Maybe Vincent

I think I know why do I write this blog?
Maybe because I cant think straight,
Maybe I am trying to give words to my thought, or maybe I am trying to limit my thoughts by giving those words.
Or maybe coz no one is listening so I write to the World Wide Web.
Maybe I do not wish anyone to listen so I write on a screen.

With people around you,
Full of insecurity,
Does not give you the opportunity to feel the same.
It is so easy to blame everyone else other than your self for every thing around you.
The government, your husband, your in-laws, God, the corporate, the neighbor, whole world.
Even after that blame game, why do you cry if the mistake is not yours?

The Debts are high, business is low, and too many ideas too less time, people you cant trust, people who don’t trust you.
Family split wide open, wounds for you to heal.
New relations to tread carefully.
Friends, who are in trouble.
My detachment makes you angry.

I have too many stresses to remember one.
I do not even remember that I have a stress.

Writing to the world, makes me feel free.
Of worries, of hypocrisy, of lies that I have to live day in and out.
I write half truths, the other half is not a lie though.
Its yin of the yang.
Darkness, of the light.

Not many read it, not today at least.
I have labeled the IP Addresses, and I have me and Mr. Hunter keeping the stat counter ticking.
56 in 70 days not a bad score.
And I am not filling pages.
I am writing to myself.
Some day, I can read back, all of them with a sigh.

Now I understandWhat you tried to say, to meAnd how you suffered for your sanityAnd how you tried to set them free:They would not listen; they did not know how --Perhaps they'll listen now.

But I could've told you, Vincent:This world was never meantFor one as beautiful as you.