Bittersweet
It's one of those evenings.
You are lying on your couch, utterly bored. You are staring at the patterns on the window made by the rain pouring outside. There's nothing else you can do right now, except stare.
You have no will whatsoever to get up and reorganize your desk. You have no desire to even look at your phone and immerse yourself in the deliciously addictive cyber world. There is nothing you really want to do except lie on that couch of yours and start off with your favourite past-time:
Thinking.
You start off pondering over all the grand plans that you had formulated and think about how everything just ended up dramatically opposite to what you had imagined. You think about how crazy you used to be, so many years ago, and you think about how you have grown so much as a person.
Then gradually, you start thinking about all the people you've encountered in your life.
You think about your doting parents, how they mollycoddled you in your childhood. You think abou…
You are lying on your couch, utterly bored. You are staring at the patterns on the window made by the rain pouring outside. There's nothing else you can do right now, except stare.
You have no will whatsoever to get up and reorganize your desk. You have no desire to even look at your phone and immerse yourself in the deliciously addictive cyber world. There is nothing you really want to do except lie on that couch of yours and start off with your favourite past-time:
Thinking.
You start off pondering over all the grand plans that you had formulated and think about how everything just ended up dramatically opposite to what you had imagined. You think about how crazy you used to be, so many years ago, and you think about how you have grown so much as a person.
Then gradually, you start thinking about all the people you've encountered in your life.
You think about your doting parents, how they mollycoddled you in your childhood. You think abou…