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Bucket Loads of Crap..

Glued to one of my favourite bands ever, I sit around my room wondering how far I've come in life and how often we do not get time to look back at the series of fortunate/unfortunate events and appreciate the sense of time and presence. It's strange that I don't have time, have submissions due but still something inside is continuously prompting me to say out something. Anything.

Coming here and stepping into the independent pathway of life, I've Realized that the stones I picked up while walking through my past road were after all not that crude. There are moments when I flip back to those moments of ephemeral joy and wish to stop whatever I am doing and start dreaming of what might have been. I ain't talking nothing about love. All this noise and all this sound inside are there to remain. Forever. That's the thing about our mind. Undo button is fucking not there and erase just does not make any sense. So why on Earth do we all call our brain one of the best computers ever created by nature when it does not have the basic functionality of erasing stuff which sometimes leads to unnecessary deviations? Food for thought maybe! Well, it all started with a positive journey and I am more than sure that it would end with a positive note. 'Cause life is all about learning while you crave for what might have been when you look back. 

I definitely should have; should have researched a lot more than I did. I could have been in a much better place than I am now. I constantly dream of what could have been different then. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Lost amidst all these conglomerate of indefinite thoughts, I am thinking taking a field trip to somewhere very few people go. Discover a paradise of my own somewhere around where I currently crash. I don't know..I miss someone else taking decisions for me. I go too far away gauging every node in a fucking bidirectional tree which was never meant to be search in a depth-first mode but breadth-first one. :-P Haha. Look at what is happening to my sense of humor. Sucks now. 



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Okay, back to being normal. In case you're trying to find any sense in the above text, you won't. I don't know how to write profound poems, sensible articles and any more such stuff. They require a lot of empty space in my mind and I don't have any. I am getting late and I need to sleep in order to get up early tomorrow for work. So let me just say what a tear in my eye is shouting out..I miss a caressing hand on my shoulder, a hug which gives me life, a feeling which makes a big difference, a profoundness which shows me something worth living for. I miss you so much mom. 

# There is one thing I've realized. There is no fuck in this world that can influence a Hindustani-dil more than hindi music.
## Growing up is not that simple. There should be degree for growing up!


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Bucket Loads of Crap..

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