Well, it might look like I’m bragging, but I’m just writing for myself.
Well, even if I’m bragging, who cares. I’m just being myself. I felt like writing and had no patience to type it all down. So, I’m just being lazy. It’s too much work today and with the impossible targets I have for myself, I’m not going to type it in anytime soon. So, it’s here this way!
If you’re really interested, read and enjoy my confused brain. 😉😎
I have no clue how people with tough lives and sad memories write memoirs or autobiographies. It is such a painful thing to do. It is almost as if the person is reliving their entire life which is more painful than the original version. Atleast in the original, we just live experiencing pain or any feelings along the way. But while writing, we recollect everything and anything the mind remembers. And you see, this thing called brain is so amazingly weird that it remembers everything that caused you pain but forgets others point of view entirely. In such cases, writing becomes the most painful and tiring activity one has ever performed.
It crushes the soul like anything breaking the heart into millions of pieces every waking minute and day. And at times like this when you realise that there is a pattern in your life and you might have repeated your past mistakes, just kills you. It need not be true but to people like me, everything seems to be wrong or done the wrong way or done for the wrong reasons, in retrospect.
I wish it was easy. 😐 Or atleast, i wish it wasn’t this lonely.