How's life shaping up? Like an amoeba!
Ego? I have a ton of it. But since it weighs a ton, I mostly leave it at home.
Don't mind it if this doesn't sound acerbic enough. My sarcasm cartridge is running low on toner.
What would I ask if I was face to face with God? I'd ask for a refund!
I hate the present... the past coz it has been present and the future coz it is going to be present ...
Whoever said I need chicken soup for the soul? I'll settle for chocolate!
Work is like shit. It always pays to dispose it off quickly.
What remains when one dies? With the vessel of his existence returned to the elements, the sum total of all his interactions with those around him is all that remains ingrained in multitudes of memories. Like a grain of sand in the oyster, a pained presence blessed by fortune that lingers on to become a pearl, a gem to be gazed upon and passed down the generations, each adding a veneer of myth till it no longer resembles the original self. Yet again just a grain of sand, more oft than not forgotten, amongst the innumerable grains that the crumbling rock of life gives up against relentless sea of time.
My grip on reality is tenous, more oft than not almost non-existent
It's not about who will cry when you die... but who will smile while you live.
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