Sunrises

When you start writing with a fixed thought in mind I think it goes in a direction I’m not familiar with. I don’t know what it is to have all planned out at first and then start with the typing process, like you are dictating to your own self. For me writing is a random process, like life. Nothing is fixed in life, I mean that for myself. That doesn’t mean that I pick up paper and pen and then start thinking what to write, though sometimes I have done that.
I feel bad when I see things that I know would make a difference to my life in a good way. I don’t exactly know what that sentence means. So let me explain it to you and to myself. A friend, living his life happily, happy in his love life, happy in his family, content with his work, makes me feel bad because I see the fact that I could have been a normal person, like him. Sometimes when I see so many good things happening with others then I feel bad for being different from others. The funny part is that such friends look up to me and feel that I’m on a higher level than them, spiritually or some other way. They are happy to see me.
When you put your time and energy and money into something and it doesn’t turn out to be the way you wanted it to, which is the only way it should function, the right way, because it’s a bloody device, it makes you furious, especially when the money is yours, nevermind the time and energy. What makes you want to smash open the heads of the people behind the non-functioning device is the simple fact that they made a fool out of you. You got fooled! Nobody likes to know he got fooled; people get angry when they come to know they’ve been fooled.
I used to write only about love and ‘things’ related to it. Too much love spoilt me, when it came to writing I mean. Then I took a much needed break, though I didn’t have any idea that I needed one. Now I’ve begun to start on ‘things’ other than love or those related to it. Though one can see for oneself the word ‘she’ mentioned in quite a few of the pieces I write, yet the attempt to label the piece as some love inspired writing would be a futile one.
She likes what I write. In so many years someone genuinely said something nice about me, or my writing. Then the fact that I’ve tried every other thing a man in my position could have tried to get my mind to work on something positive, something constructive makes me want to go on writing, for her, for anyone who likes it. I feel those last five words in the last sentence are going to reduce the smile on her lips when she is reading this. But what I said is the truth, I’d like to write for anyone who likes what I write, and then there is the fact that as far as I can see it is only she that is a fan.
Sunsets have always been overrated. That is to say that they have always been more talked about than sunrises. Technically speaking both must be equally beautiful, and I’m not going to explain how over here. People are sleeping during sunrises, most of the people, during most of the sunrises. Those who are up are busy in doing things, getting ready for the day. They miss out on sunrises. I’ve also missed on sunrises all my life, and those rare ones that I got to see were those when I stayed awake all night and slept in the mornings and day. Sunsets ... enough has been said about them already, by people whose fans might or might not include her.