If I am Who I am and you are who you are.
And I am Someone when I am with you and you are Someone when you are with me.
And I love the Someone when I am with and you are in love with the Someone I am.
And we are someone else when we are together.

Then do I love you or do you love me?
Answer in a monosyllable and how many people are actually in love, give me the count.

Is that even love when it is so much conditioned?
How many of us are involved in this love story?

And is it even a love story or just a Blank Page with undeciphered ink of which we are making our meanings and words.

Are these even questions or just a rant from a wrathed mind with no opening to release.

Release the love, anger, frustration, sadness carried by all these people and the one who he thinks He is.

But isn't it too many people and their souls carried by one, when we are in love.

And again if it's not the same you, Is it even love?

We all want to be happy.
Happy all the time.
We pray for it.
Seek for it.

We know it is inside us.
Still, we look for it outside.
And find it sometimes.
In those little joys moments,
We Float in the air,
Like those tiny cotton seeds
Surrounded by happy fluff.
Look for it, to be with us forever.

Ask someone who knows better.
Someone who knows it's nothing less than a curse to be happy all the time.
What's the use if you haven't felt the blues.

What if you got it?
Would you keep it?
A packet full of lifetime happiness.
Wrapped in cute pink cellophane paper.
Covered with glitters and a bow.
It has a supply enough for you to survive your entire time here.

No sorrows anymore,
No sadness, anxiety, negative thoughts, no problem ever for you.
You will always be joyous gleeful and Sunny.
No rain would ever be around you.

Just like it used to be before Eve had "The Apple".
The Apple" which brought all the miseries in our lives.
All those, sorrows and pain,
The dark thoughts, engulfing you like a flood around a small village.
Nowhere to go.

Burying ourselves in the swamp along with those who are in there already.
Crying and screaming for help,
Rotting in hell.
We are walking towards it as well.
Taking step by step.
Slowly but all of us reaching there. One day.
So why this?

All because of that one lady who couldn't have been any more stupid.
So if I ask you, I could give you that life, where everything is at it's best.
And you would always be happy so happy that won't even know what pain is.

Who wouldn't want such a life?

But how would you know you are happy when you have never witnessed the sadness.

If the person who I am, When I am with you,
Kills the person who I am.
Is it a Suicide or is it a ******?

I don't know that.
You decide.

What I certainly know is that someone died and I can't even mourn for her.

Ever want to learn to fly and be a part of the wind?
Ever want to learn swimming and be through the ocean, like the drop?
Ever want to sway like the trees and be selfless?
Or be as steadfast as the mountains?
Be as melodious as the nightingale or
As deadly as the bat in a soup?

But birds can only fly, a drop can only be a part of water.
Trees can't move, mountains are something we dig up.
nightingale can only sing or the bat can only ****.

What about the rest?
Rest of it all.
All of the rest.

The nothingness of everything, ending into something.

How could you be ALL?
While aiming for nothingness.

Ever want to die? - because this life is too short for you to be finishing up everything.

So you decide to complete everything at once by letting it go.