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i am thinking of ending things.

 These past few days, or rather these past few years have been really draining. I think of ending things from time to time. Sometimes I make vivid plans of how I will end it all. Everything, for good. I always let the moment pass and I come face to face with myself at the end of the tunnel- the one which takes me days, sometimes weeks and maybe even months to escape- and I cannot face myself. My hands, they are always trembling, especially more when I see myself and realise how utterly shattered I had been to make such realistic plans of how I will kill myself. I convulse with disgust, from myself, of how I could think of it, so thoroughly at that.  Every word I write is lightyears away from fleeting moments of such agonising misery and plans of departure. 
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here, take a hug :)

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"In the race of getting through life, we seldom forget to truly live it in its true essence."  how often do we question life? how often do we wonder if we really are living the way we dream of living?  Probably every time when we try to sleep because it's only then that we are left alone with our thoughts.  So, is life a journey, a road, a song, a melody, a tale, or a narrative?  I'd say it's everything which exists between nothingness and fulfilment.  To exist is to be a part of the universe, but to live is to make the universe a part of you.  To love and to laugh, to be kind and hopeful, to have faith and zest even in the darkest of times is to be human; and that's when the universe becomes a part of your soul, a part of you.  We might think our life isn't perfect because it isn't the way we want it to be, but is that really the truth?  Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.  What is perfect then?  Someone once told me, 'it doesn't have
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perfection

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