“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” ― Dr. Seuss
Look, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up writing blog posts for a long time, and I’m pretty sure you will not be looking forward for this subject as much as you did for my other “inventive” short stories. So, if you have already started reading this, why not finish it?
I’m going to straight away start from the basics – The Definitions.
Lust – strong sexual desire. Infatuation – an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something. Love – (n) a strong feeling of affection. (v) feel deep affection or sexual love for (someone).
Well, there is a lot of difference between each one of them. And that is something really complex to find out what kind of feeling we’re “actually” feeling. Of course, every guy who’s in infatuation says that he/she loves the other person just as much as a person who’s “actually” in love. But what’s that cuts the ice? Continue reading “Lust. Infatuation. Or Love?”
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.” ― Erma Bombeck I’m still alive. I cannot feel anything, but I can certainly hear everything. I have cancer. Brain tumour, to its severe stages. The people already consider me dead. No they haven’t informed my family. I can hear them talk and they seem to plan on telling them this afternoon as soon as they confirm my death.
I cannot move any part of my body, not even my eyes. My heart skips almost every alternate beat and is slowing down every second. I can feel no pain. The doctors closed my eyes to prevent extra pressure on the optic centre of my brain, which was close to the sight of infection, earlier.
I know I am going to die, but I still am alive. I try lifting my hand, but I’m scared. I heard the doctors tell my family that even the slightest pressure in this stage can cause permanent damage, and I will eventually die. I do not believe them. I command my hand to lift itself, but it’s impossible. One part of my brain, the ventral tegmental area, dies with that very thought of action. Continue reading “I’m alive!”