Adoring the unparalleled beauty of the night-sky always had been Solus’ favorite thing to do after his restless day. The stunning contrast between the dark sky and the glittering stars; as if the prettiest woman had put on her the most aesthetic collection of jewellery.

Solus always had this undying love for the stars, because the way they shine in the night, dimming and brightening up, as if the light itself danced around them.

God must be a painter, the way He paints the night-sky.

“Stars make me happy, they show me the way in the dark, I feel like I can communicate to them on a different level, with every passing day, I feel like I can guess their movements, and their behavior.”

Without any doubt, Solus was in love with the stars. And like every lover out there, Solus made a very typical mistake; learning about them.

“They appear to be nice from the outside, but they are scorching like hell from the inside. I’m getting more and more excited. They are born out of dust. They spend their lives attracting things around them, but the Universe won’t let them do it. They die in more than one ways, and none of the ways of their ending sounds pleasant; just like love.”

God must be a physicist, the way He keeps the forces balanced.

Solus finally learned that the stars are not what they appear to be. Like most of the people, stars also are farther away than they appear to be. If you get close enough, you die. If they move close, their color changes. If they move away, their color changes.

“I trusted the stars, and I feel like they’ve betrayed me. I wish I never had learned this much about them, but my love for them drove my passion of understanding them. I have made a huge mistake. I have trusted the wrong. More than them, I now hate myself for being so foolish and blind. I could not see the reality.”

Sitting in the corner of his room now, Solus closed his eyes, imagining every phenomena he has ever observed, every person he has ever met; searching for someone, something that Solus could talk to.

It’s really hard to tell if the drop flowing over the cheeks is sweat, or a drop of tear, and it becomes harder when you’re not sure if you’re crying, or not. Solus also couldn’t tell the difference.

God must be a psychologist, the way He makes people torture their own minds.

“I’m wounded in all sorts of ways. It’s ironic that I can’t find a doctor for these wounds, and if I don’t find a solution soon enough, these wounds will get infected. If I don’t get rid of these wounds, the hurt parts will have to be amputated. I don’t want to become another heartless person. But if I don’t get rid of my heart, I’ll die. I’ll die every single day of my life.”

There was complete darkness in the room, filled with muffling, and screaming sounds. Solus’ brain seizures had gone worse, worse enough to harm him physically. His random movements shoveled tiny pecks of blood all over the white wall he was facing. A stunning contrast between the white wall, and the dark bloodstains; as if a murderer was feeling proud of his stained cloths after taking another life.

God must be a writer, the way He twists the plots of everyone’s stories.


Strengthening the thoughts (I)

“I spent the whole night, studying for the exam. Just kept cramming for the final. And now this one thing, one equation, that might have gone out of my short term memory, and now I have NO idea how to solve this question”, this is what I kept thinking during the exam. I closed my eyes, and tried to THINK, but no use. I WANTED to recall what I saw on the book last night.

When I closed my eyes, the whole Universe went out of my sight, and all I could see was some really random patterns, as if it were a visual presentation of what my mind was going through, in order to perform a search operation on a specific visual item. I tried to focus hard, and some vague patterns of a page from a book appeared. Some further focus, and the content of the page became clearer. I could see the orientation, and paragraph layouts. There was some figure drawn as well, a graph. I could barely read some text, but I wanted that specific equation. I knew the exact location of that equation on the page. Focusing on and on, I could see the variables and operators that composed the equation. As I was getting closer, it was becoming harder and harder to focus. I was spending my energy, as well as my time, because that one equation could lead me to 10 straight marks in no time. At this moment, I could feel the physical pain, as if it were telling me get out of this inner World. The pain kept on increasing, but I wasn’t willing to quit. I JUST WANTED TO RECALL THE DAMN EQUATION. *snap* “Half of the time has passed”, a voice came, which wasn’t from the World I was in at the moment, but it helped me enough go get back to my real location, with respect to my physical dimensions. Now I barely had the courage to maintain that focus again, but I was sure enough that the information was NOT lost. It was still inside, I just had to find a way to access it.

And in case if you’re wondering why I didn’t finish it in this post, well, honestly, I hate these walls of never ending text. I’ll most probably not read the text where I have to scroll down till the end,not even on 9gag. I mean, SOME scrolling is fine, but A LOT of scrolling isn’t acceptable.

Thursdays are the new Mondays

I’m a final year student (semi-final year, actually. Because the degree “SOMEHOW MAGICALLY” got delayed by 6 months), and like anyone else, I’m almost sick of following a timetable. Just like a normal human being (although I shouldn’t be like this), I’m also afraid of work. I would never have gone to the University if that attendance wasn’t compulsory, because I’d simply ask for the notes from other students, if and only if they wouldn’t adopt a mentality like mine of not going.

Although Monday is a nightmare for people (if you’re someone who doesn’t go anywhere for work, school, or anything, then you may quit reading, because the feeling isn’t worth it), but I’m more afraid of my Thursdays. The reason is simple; hectic day, from 9:30 AM to 6:30 PM, I get a single break during the 11:00 AM to 12:30 PM window, and rest is a “planned sequential physical and mental torture”.

Because I’m afraid of Thursday so much, I wish that it never appears. But, just like a normal human mindset, I feel like Thursdays come faster than any other day. It’s like reading the phrase “MondayTuesdayWednesdayTTHHUURRSSSSSDAAAYYY”. And now, I don’t know how to exactly explain it, but this is a blessing in disguise, because the weekend is “JUST” ahead. Fridays passe like a charm, and THERE!

The whole feeling is amazing, because Thursdays help my mind not to think of the first three days of the week too much, and allowing them to pass really quickly, and then with one hectic day, I have a weekend ahead. So, in short, it helps me to realize that how close a weekend is, hence maintaining a state of psychological equilibrium inside my head by being good, and bad to me at the same time.

Me: “Damn, the weekend’s over”
AnotherMe: “Don’t worry, Thursday is JUST here”

P.S: Did I mention that we have a lot of assignments and project deliverables to be completed on weekends? Yes. The weekends equally suck!