I always, always miss you. I wish I could be with you at least those times when you want me to stay.
Not being able to spend time with you saddens me. Makes me feel strange, as though I'm letting a good opportunity slip out of my hands. I know that sounds very economised but heck, it is that!
As though it'll end and then I'll want those times back so that I can spend them with you.
I know it doesn't really matter but I cannot shake it off. I want to be with you not because I feel it'll end soon but because I feel, "what if it ends? Might as well enjoy it as much as I can now."
But even that saddens me. Is this love. Is this attachment.
"It's alright. I happens to me too. Hug."

I remember the first time I saw you. It was quick and fast. I didn't feel anything. I didn't even notice much. You came in. You sat two seats away from me. Maybe three. You rushed out.
Skip 5 days. Or less. Or more. I don't know.
I remember the second time. Somebody had told me, told us you were 'very cute'. I have this habit of falling for 'very cute' people. I did fall for you. But I did not realise it immediately.
Then the third time, the fourth. I don't know. One of them. Of of the others. That day when the four of us went to drink.
It was a strange day. I got high on half a glass of beer. It was sort of embarrassing. But it was fun.
Hooking up was proposed by a friend. I thought, "why not".
So I 'friended' you on a certain social networking site.
Wait. What date was it?
22nd March. Go figure how I know that.

Happiness.

Happiness obtained out of small events is the best happiness one can incur. You don't need expensive things, you don't need money, you don't need substances. Sit down with a person or two and talk and talk and talk and gain only happiness out of it. Experience everything. Don't hate anything. Love everything and everyone. Because in the end, nothing will matter. You are such a miniscule part of this infinite cosmos. And you are not going to last. Everything and everyone leaves some day. And everything is eventually forgotten.
Why then should we run after hollow concepts of success in terms of money and work and fame and popularity when we can gain happiness through simpler and less complicated ways? Like helping somebody cross the road, or feeding hungry strays? Is it not easier and better to do all this than consuming your health and happiness in finite pursuits?
Don't be selfish, but don't be self-exhausting either. Love everybody else, but love yourself too.
Everybody has different concepts of happiness and different ways to achieve it. I am not one to judge anybody's ways. Anybody can do whatever they want as long as they are happy and they are not harming anybody, including themselves.

- J.

I see so many angry people everyday, all the time. Anger is human, it exists, but what I don't understand is how futile all of it is. People get angry about utterly trivial things. I want to hold their hand, or better, hug them (though that would be a problem with some people) and tell them that everything will be okay. That anger won't help.
But then, even I get angry at times, a lot of times. What do I do?

Anger- exit.
Enter- love.

Some people.. are just.. such prodigies. They amaze me to no end.
But they also leave me with this desperate need to be something, to do something worthwhile- this feeling of envy.
But I suppose that's good, is it not? But should envy or jealousy be the base of motivation and hard work? Does that not lead to competitiveness?
Is competitiveness healthy? Does it have to exist?

Death.

SADDER THAN DEATH ARE THE SORROW AND GRIEF WHICH SURROUND IT.

THE ANGER

THE MISERY

THE SADNESS

THE HOPELESSNESS

THE LAST TIME

THE LAST LOOK

THE PAIN

BUT THEN,

THE JOY

FOR THE DEAD

THEIR PEACE

THEIR FULFILLMENT

THEIR CONTENTMENT

THEIR PAIN CEASES TO EXIST.

The dead may leave others in pain, but others celebrate the fact that the dead have been ridden of their pain and suffering. And yet, they fear death.
Life goes on. Not the same as before, but it goes on. Sometimes, while one is doing something one suddenly goes silent and remembers the dead- a fond memory or an angry memory or a sad memory or an embarrassing memory. At that point, time stops, remains still, but in the next, it resumes and one has to move on. One can't stop, because one has one's own life to live. Or just survive. Some just survive, they stop living. Or maybe they never lived.
The possibilities are endless, but the ultimate truth is that everything does end someday. It is inevitable and yet people cannot accept it. They tend to hang on to the tiniest threads that manage to exist after death. That is the power of attachment.
But this attachment breaks one, weakens one. It makes one cry out for the dead, makes one miss them and pine after them. But they won't ever come back. The dead never return. They only remain in spirit, but their soul has embarked, their body decomposed or burnt or eaten or cut up and thrown away.
Do memories make the situation better or worse? Is it better to have cried or to not have cried? Is it better to accept the universal truth or live in constant denial?

There is always something more to life than all this. More to it than just lying on the bed, walking back from the station, boarding the metro, sitting at the coffee house, leaving college, studying, giving a test, going to college, boarding the metro, leaving home, getting ready, studying for a test, waking up.

There is always more to life than everything that already is. I want more. But I don't know how to acquire more.

- Jananni.