They say old habits die hard. I say the only reason old habits/people/things stick around because we reason with ourselves that the murky history is essential, because who are we if not for our pasts ?
This is a part of Confession Series , little figments of writings scribbled down in old sketchbooks bought to life here.
It is strange that how I wrote these little snippets of advice to myself obscuring it with whole lot of drama that I was then facing. I’ve always disliked being ambiguous about my life because of the kind of control freak that I am, but when I think about it, the most joy I’ve ever had in writing my short stories or drawing was when I was ambiguous of what I wanted and every word that I joined on the paper to make a sentence would be a surprise.
This is a part of a series of confessions, written in old sketchbooks bought to life here on this blog.
Everyday when I step out of my house, I tell myself that hope is the worst feeling to take with you when dealing with the outside world. But occasionally you give in, you give in to be hopeful about something or someone. It is at these points that you are the most vulnerable too, because hope and disappointment are strange partners that come in pairs of two. I don’t remember when I wrote this note , but it seems like I’m hopeful once again and keeping an eye out for things to fall apart.