Singularity
This can't be happening. I must be having a terrible, terrible nightmare, for sure. As the throbbing sound of bells, burying the darkness of subsequent history, went by, it whooshed along the line of life, telling stories of appreciations, and in the midst of apparent contentment, the only decision of undeniable resentment was made at discretion. An odd day, when the sun made the water boil, and the clouds cry, my reflection was seen at dismay. All the years, I've accounted for my felicity. The hand of the clock that should be frozen is now advancing step-by-step. This is mere illusion where the mirror itself fails to explain when the past and the future feel like a glimpse of companionship and the seemingly pleasant present that executes its magic portion by portion. Time doesn't decide future. It is you who sketches out its frame!
Serendipity
He's been living way too long. It would be fun to see him lifeless. His soul departed with the only sin, that he had his heart in the right place, and the realization of an undismayed friend. There are several layers of meaning to words or notions, that off and on interrupt the function of life. A heart without the fear of death, without generosity, and without the capability to induce a sense of being constrained from insubordination never give life its meaning. When the river flows smoothly, the entire nature feels safe. When it becomes flooded with water and sediments, it is accused of its uproarious behaviour, following devastation of habitat. When a person falls on his knees to do us honour when success is with us, he becomes the first to throw stones of malice when failure settles clouds upon our heads. There has invariably been a truth to the furtive nature of mirror.Mulligrubs
"I'm afraid, that importance of eccentricities has been cut short for so long, that your stupor has now knocked up gestures of sympathy from everywhere. For the most part your voyage has been alone, like a misguided traveller in a forest. As long as your mellowness and mannerism keep your fears and arrogance from coming into harmony, your forbearance shall oversee your diffident approach to certain situations. And, all of the time, you've managed to blow off the curtain of severity, that had been longing for for a queer trouble. I'm appalled to see how you often contrive to cut down your existing problems? Is it a lingering hint of selfishness that makes you feel joyous at the thought of her? Do your apprehensions make you worried about yourself? Is it a hair's breadth of error that you're struggling for non-existence? Are your thoughts aggravating your ill-fated life for the cause of natural world? thus, it left him half rapt and half quizzical - for which it was acknowledging him, that his life is now numbered, to see that his existence is purely a joke!
Euphoria
The artists and their repertoire, the history and its pithy epigrams about civilizations, and the human mind as well as other organs of influence veer like a weather-cock to every point of compass. The heart beats as it is programmed for it, but never hesitates to ask for how long it has to do this noble deed, that ever so keeps the person alive. Meanwhile, I remember the sensation of your hands. Did you wander looking for that erased, rose-coloured smile? The only thing that is different from fate - your gaze hurts, looking at the same place as me. Will you still stay in my dreams? I can hear the far-away ocean across a dream, over the horizon. Even if the ocean is prodigious, no matter who shakes the world, don't ever let go off this hand you're holding - don't wake up from this dream, because you're the cause of my euphoria!
Penitence
Many people have an irregular or rough outline of their expectations with every breath of caprice that blows. The paradox of creation is the greatness of both originality and particularly desire or lust. Admittedly, the normal life is sometimes marred with impulsive sensationalism; but the intense psychology and the vexed characterization of a person bring him or her to suicidal death. As hearsay suggests, the plot of life provides a chance to enliven the coordinated structure systematically; but with pure suggestions, it is simply an ocean of worries that makes the person fall short of one's expectations. The feelings are enough to gauge about one's reality and to determine the critical overturn of decisions - one's physicality, and emotional appearance is sufficient. Finally, the representatives or the causes of social disruption remain undiscovered till the worries eat up the victim wholly. At last, the remains of tears readily incline towards the utter desire for self-harm - though not languid in nature - but with flexible perseverance, you are able to live for the following months of guilt, regret, and abnormality of thoughts. If God fails you this time, you won't have another choice.
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