A story? No, just an incident

It is with great discomfort that I do confess that I am not eligible to get close to other humans for a very long period of time. It is neither good for me not good for them. I do not understand what is wrong with me, and till I do, I would not even attempt to bring my very unhealthy self to barge into anyone else's life and become an essential part of it. Things I do and am unable to comprehend, that have the habit of changing course in sharp angles at very short timings, and drive people around me crazy. Unstable and inconsistent as I am now, I do declare myself as being hazardous to myself, as well as those who are unlucky enough to care about me. I don't know what possesses me, or what on earth is going on with me, I really don't know, I swear I don't know. I do things in great belief, then the belief fades away as strong as it has started, in a glimpse of an eye. Escaping is not going to achieve anything, but what to be done is totally not within my knowledge the m

Whoah, finally some privacy. What can I say? What should I say? What is not what it used to be? and What is new with whatever I see? Just what? This place acts as a sanctuary indeed. I look back at whenever I started posting my words in here, and think about how much one has changed dramatically, and I keep repeating myself a lot about this, but it is true, every time I drop by and read, I say that it HAS been a long trip, and thank God for whoever I am right now, hoping for the better as I stroll down the lanes of a short life. To be straightforwardly honest, I absolutely feel like an alien, with every meaning the word could hold, a green-faced monster amongst a herd of white four-legged creatures; what intrigues them does not form the simplest forms of interest for me, what saddens them is like rain drops over my head, what they see I cannot comprehend, and what I see is absolutely invisible to them. At the same time I can't seem to manage myself quite right, I'm getting as b

Yeah she can walk. There she is carrying her leather soft bag and a huge file stuffed with papers, each group of papers with its own section, she is also good at classifying her papers, and the people that she meets. A hurried crossing of the road in the middle of the day, under the heat of a burning sun, she closes her eyes momentarily as she passes in front of one of the tall entrances of the old downtown buildings, the fresh breeze that crosses her face from the air conditioning encourages her to increase the speed of her pace, promising herself a cold cup of water and the cool silence of the booth, once she reaches it. She doesn't like to walk in haste, but in this heat it is a necessity. She recalls those winter days when she used to talk long walks within downtown with her father God rest his Soul, she used to walk with his hand holding hers in her favorite red dress, she was really young and he really made her feel safe, so whenever she traverses the same places alone in the

I really don't know. As a manner of a private silent conversation between a man and his Creator, one dares not say I know. An overlook on the future could not seem that bright, in matters of readiness for example, one can't really say that things are that visible because they are simply in the hands of the Creator. All I know is what I feel now, and that it is not a really great feeling to be honest. the differences between human beings are mostly significant when dealing with problems. Some enthusiastic reactions from people who are living a certain state of mind or spirituality would immediately say "If you're not feeling that good then you should check your relationship with God, pray more, ask for forgiveness and things will be okay". On the other hand other people might ask more questions and analyze the situation more in order to try and come up with answers, also related somehow to their experiences that might be irrelevant to my situation so to speak. That

What exactly is right? I can't tell! All I can say is that there is "Good", and then there is "Bad", then in the middle there are two strange multi-colored realms: The Realm of the Better, and the Realm of the Worse. I don't think there is anyone on the face of this earth that can be absolutely "Good", and I doubt that there are people who are absolutely "Bad" unless they have made the wrong choices for a very long time. That amount of time is only known to the Creator who has created every person for what he/she is precisely. Sometimes one might overload himself with the burdens of a Globe, as if he is responsible for the pains of the universe, taking into account that he might be the one responsible for easing it up for Millions, thus thinking that the way my life has become is not at all what I am supposed to be living, my mundane activities seem so small in my eyes to the extent of me wanting take the nearest exit to somewhere else, o