Never again.

I made to to-do list today. Its funny how sometimes out of all that you want to do, there's only a few things you can write down. Even to yourself. You're just kidding yourself sometimes. A friend told me today that hope was a dangerous thing. I laughed aloud. Hope is that closed door which is the only way out. Hope is that monster under your bed. Hope is a reflex.

You reach halfway through a novel and you realise that its just like your life and then all you want to do is open the last page. You're constantly in search of that happy ending. And then a happier one. We resurface from our ignorance with the apparent realisation of what we want in life only to submerge back. We're gluttons. Thats what we are. And all that is good and beautiful in this world is waiting to be devoured. One fine morning we're all going to wake up and realise that life is not a storybook. Life is not a song. Life is just...life.

I just hope to be more coherent.