whats me !

Well , evening is so pretty , a little light of day left and a cup of coffee on my terrace , a fiction book in my hand ,thinking of December and the orange sky , as if the sun has been melted all over the vault , lovely kites of various colors ,solitude , writings and me ,what else ? Well no one can see anything else except it. Literature, a subject, I always loved since childhood, deeply trying to understand it in teenage                                   and hope to stay with it forever. It’s so strange, happiness is just like a dot in the circle of life but still all of us run after this even till the end of the life, that’s called human nature. I see so many people around myself , none of them could ever be my friend , I am a good friend for them but they aren’t  mine, well , I always try to hide this from them. I am knowing myself , it’s true that I am a prisoner of solitude and it won’t release me ever, I have realized today and even in my future I will always be like this and it won’t be changed. I am addicted to be alone and dream of my solitary byway. Sometimes I wonder what gives me pleasure and the answer was only my pen and the blank sheet where I could fill up my words and sometimes I feel getting absorbed in it, I wish to be soaked forever in it and never come out ever. I recently realized I was born in winter and I love winter and I am a November born and I am glad it’s the month of winter, Christmas is one of my favorite festival because it’s in December and feel like spending it in a very gorgeous place.

I am a literature girl, I am completely absorbed in it, and when it comes to something mechanical, I don’t remember anything! The polar express is my favorite movie because I see the world as the very way this movie is. I dream to count the how many stars are there in the sky, dream to hold the water in hands, dream to fly without wings, seems impossible, right? Staying in my world gives me pleasure like a bird in her nest.

If ever I think about my aim, then generally so-called matters comes in mind, but I am a traveler, the traveler of the extreme solitary byway which is endless, which would be only applicable for me and no one else would be there, there is no place for anyone else except the birds, the trees, the winter, the solitude and my lovely white flowers.

I pray to god ,if ever there is a second life ,make me literature lover as I am today ,to make me the traveler of the solitary ways !