I find it harder to make grand interpretations of all the grand gestures the universe so chivalrously lays upon me. I usually tend to forget these, but it’s worse when I can’t. I am afraid my response is not nearly as expressive as is expected to be. Because there are expectations of responses too of-course, but I can’t work well with proportionate emotional exhibition.

However, the moments that are laughably insignificant stay etched in my mind.
My obsession to put things into the humble equation of give and take never comes to fruition. I really understand why it is fundamentally flawed, but I should hope otherwise. Because it should work a few times. That would be nice, I guess.

To add to it, time in itself is a labyrinthine concept. All of its divisions when melded with emotions, do not work in tandem with how they’re defined to be.

If they did, every bitter moment of angst would’ve ended when they should’ve, but they never did. We still live them. And the hours gone by would not have lasted for mere seconds, they were to be felt as their names imply.
But really if they did, what would memories be then?

I can’t stand the ridiculous dominance with which Time plays us.

– Sincerely,
Krishna