Over the last few days, whatever I have been writing (published or unpublished) seems to have a sombre touch associated with it. It's not that I don't know why. I know perfectly well. Over the past few days, I have been thinking a lot. Thinking seriously, if you know what I mean, thinking on the lines of what do I want from life, am I happy, the way I am, and where will I be a few years down the line.

Now, anyone who knows me well knows that I am not much of a planner as far as my own life is concerned. I just have a vague idea of what I am good at, and what I like. I also have some idea as to what I want to do. But then I am not the kind of person who plans out so as to achieve his goals. I am more of a hopeless 'hoper', one who hopes that things will all fall in their places, and I will be happy.

Now that doesn't happen in life. Very seldom does one get what one wants out of sheer coincidence. But I have realised the fact too late. And now that I have indeed realised it, I still don't see myself changing much. I still keep on dreaming dreams which my logical mind tells me are perfectly impossible. At this point, I would probably have said "God help me." but the problem is I don't believe in God either! I give up.