This cannot be happening, again.

It feels weird to have those very leaves, that once blew through your hair without leaving a trace, to come back and stick to your face even when there is no humidity to play the catalyst.

It rained today. I didn't feel any different. Seems like there's this repeated bag of emotions that I keep toying around with. I wake up in the morning as if to virtually, take my pick of an emotion. I have to confess that I pick my favorites. Not that ones that always make me feel better; I play by the rules. I pick complimentary emotions. They bring out the essence of me. And I like that journey of self discovery.

But, more often than not, there is a inconsistent repetition. I am tired of fighting this battle with language. I am tired of trying to put down into words the unconventional mix of emotions that get translated into syntax and grammar. Non-verbal art that way is so much better. There can be various dimensions. Words are restricting. I have immense respect for those who manage to articulate within the limited set resources.

I must curb this habit of meandering into different tunnels of thought. I don't particularly appreciate this repetition: in thought, in emotion and in situation. They say I bring it on myself. Nothing is happening. You know? Maybe it's much more than what comes off on face value.

Who can every say? Who can ever know?

Scary, much?