…that flows from this pen, my life lessens by every stroke. With every tip it touches, it gets coarser. Till its last drop it holds on, till itself almost consumed. When flung to the ground for fun, it bares the pain. The life of the pen that holds my words till this day reminds me of the love that I hold on..just like the pen.
Don’t question what it is as it just came and then left me as like how the chilling winds grace my face every now and then. Accept the abstraction without explanation as I’m confused and lost, trying to find my way. I hide in the cold bitter darkness now where it feels like the only place giving me shelter. Oh, what am I to do?
Life is sad..isn’t it.
I actually posted this on August 31, 2004 during my early blogging years. While looking back into the web archive for something, I stumbled on some old blog posts which you may would’ve never come across.
Gotta hand it to them. Without them, I never would’ve imagined or remembered myself writing this.