We aren't much but we're all we have.
Don't give it away for anyone. Because there's only one person who'll care about you all the way till the end and that's you.
And that's the loophole in everything we are ever taught.

A thousand little people all searching for nothing. The cross the Universe bears. If Gods must answer for their deeds on a judgement day of their own we'd see them shrink to our size and stare mutely at the floor. The Kingdom of Heaven come, and faded into Earth.

We aren't very different, you and I. I made you and you made me. Now I'll take off on my own.

We'll talk every night before I sleep. Its a habit that'll stay with me.

We aren't much but we're all we have. And that is why we'll turn out okay in the end.
Almost always.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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