i stepped out of the room. the dark pilani sky, takes you to the seventh heaven. the puff intoxicates the breeze, and so the story goes. on a high, i don't feel the pain now. but when life glides down, i climb into a bed of roses- or is it? dark shadows and hushed whispers, i feel scared, i smile. the blood flows out, making me weak, i dream of starry nights, no one to walk with. drained and haunted, i step out into the fork, not sure what to do...
i'm not as smart as kekule, my snakes-grabbing-their-own-tails were not materialising into benzene structures(i'm generally not that geeky :P) i first wrote the last line of the first write up, and began forming on it. funny how grammatical errors can be a boon in such restricted situations. with each memory, my smile turned into a grin...
3 years finally in 2 pages, i looked at the word document and admired the genius that is bill gates.