Captured by the dirt of my own mind, I fell in love again. After my wife’s death, I have been lonelier than heard by anyone. She was decent, celebrated, very beautiful lady! But on her death bed. Just like my wife has once been. Now, my objective was to save a living being! How? I cannot now speak! But if I tell you in coming chapters, will it be a repeat? Let’s speak of this social worker, educated, very intelligent, great-looking my second half. Am I being more than curious to have her as my wife? She has only few weeks before she is declared dead at 27.
I am enormous! Not enormous but exactly of the size of me! Hey! Will you believe me? I don’t trust me in love! I can love anyone! But why do I always fall in love with someone close to death? Am I more than curious to be happy in least?
Relationships don’t
Mighty day! Begins again! They value those who have been hunt by death over life! “Let’s celebrate it”, I said. Honey said, “It's a dew drop missing for it is summer.” Honey said as normally as she could, “Can we channelise emotions released by thoughts of disease and/ or death.” I answered, “Good question.but I am upset by your approaching death. If I fail to save you, I will this time stay alone my whole life. Then you have last stage cancer. How will emotional channels work in this? Please enfold! Whatever you say I will hold strong and safe.” Honey added, “I have heard people getting saved by building emotional channels towards more positive thought circles. There are many examples. One of them is being fresh with positive thoughts just as today’s dew!” She further said, “The one who makes others laugh is called a joker on earth. Why? Is he not engaged in the most essential job? Making humans happy for no reason is being stupid. Professionals are serious looking people who
No, not a rat! I hate rats! I was a frog in my lab. A stuffy, puffy toy! I could not understand both love and life. I was as if a cow in a decline. I loved her more, but I hated wasting time on her. She was my bit at my lab. My wife has been my assistant all my life. She was speechless in my busy schedule. Her name was Amy, but she was more present in my heart than on any outside floor. I adored her more than the time I had to utter this. I was simply a frog in my lab who lived and slept there.To be obvious, I would require some facts. Now, where had I kept my facts? Somewhere far from my shoes. My points were on a paper I took the printout of in a half-sleeping position. But raised enough to fall straight and sharp on the floor to be deep in sleep there. Ha!Let me organise myself a bit before I introduce myself. Yes! Now I am ready. The facts say I have done PhD with a gold medal, and I have worked in this broken lab for the past 25 years of my settled life otherwise. Facts also pro
Life is tough for the non-rich. I am not poor either. But then, I am also not non-poor in certain types of poverty misfits. For example, I need help to afford what I do not buy for my research. I am still determining when I will fully be back to ordinary work. But my inclination towards research says that it will be delayed a lot. I wouldn't be spiritually comfortable if I ever returned to a full-time job every day. Money was never something I ever valued. Otherwise, why am I the most underpaid worker in my eyes? Underpaid for, I cannot buy in ten years duty that for which I live to exist. I am so sorry about economics because it fails me as a researcher. As a person, I also fail when I cannot relax with things I want because they cost a lot.Money is for a purpose. The purpose fulfilled means no more need for cash. But my goal was to study for my whole life, which I cannot fulfil now, though my life is still incomplete by its end. I feel too sorry to express that I always struggled to
I wrote this poem for Amy and my life today:"Make mercy your choice. Don't decline in worth. Move straight up. That's all about right. Invention is mercy. Creation is a blessing. There is nothing left for life itself. There is peace for occupancy in every mind. We don't adhere to misfits. We speak of speech. But love declines with time. Adoration declines with time. We cannot worship dust. We created great. The cause of God's existence was not limited. We need to excel again and again. Furthermore, on the floor of life, we stay. Again. Yet again."I didn't show her with the fear to speak about it. I convey less to others. For I believe speech in excess creates tremors in my brain. A thought which I don't know comes from where. But I accept it as the best outfit for every new day. I know what dirt is. I worship food instead. On this floor of my life, I am not alone. Amy is with me. Though she is half better than me, despite all the misfits, I offer her to live with.Will I miss her whe
What is in resemblance of peace? Where do ethics begin? Will I nurture good objectives by being selfish? If I fail, will I also be inevitable? What is the opposite of life? Death! Then how can death be for the good if life is its opposite? How can nobility shrink to be limited to a single grave? Where do I begin? Why should I end? The end of life is good. I need help understanding the concept of heaven even today. The bible didn't fail me as much as the bible was unable to stand the findings of my research.People cover themselves with the floor. Those who have next to nothing to support themselves. They, too, must live. I must live the storm if it helps fight the end somewhere. Life is hurting me at floor level. Amy is dead. I didn't kill her. She failed me in my desire to have a company in the future. The doctor says she was under considerable stress. They dug her up. But what's this? I can still talk to her. How? Whispers in my mind speak to her. That's because I am a patient with
Hurt by the wind, I ask for strength to the floor. I am witnessing death which I don't deserve. I know.Light in the magnetic field. I am still determining what the impact is. Light can be dispersed or concentrated to a point by a magnetic field. Sound, too, is impacted by the magnetic field. I would think so. There is not much sound in my room. Light seems to control the floor. It may be natural or due to the strong magnetic field in my lab. In the region where I stood, there was a substantial magnetic pull on my body. The frog hops a few millimetres less in my lab than he dies outside. What is interesting to me is that I have started eating less since the time I introduced this giant magnet here, but nonetheless, I feel more energetic.My brain works at an altogether different wavelength after this magnet is there in my lab space. Am I attributing everything around me to a magnetic pull? But then everything else has stayed the same in the past few days. I even felt that the storm th
What if the world drives me insane? There has to be some level of insanity in you from starting for the world to drive you insane. I am revolutionising science here, but the world considers me disharmonious. There is a privilege for everything in the little you have. But as you grow in your wants, you begin to expect more. Expecting more is not the same here as deserving more. You might not even deserve little, but you adore more. You want to resemble a few rich not like many more. You must acknowledge defeat for progressing for you being limited. You don't throw stones on the other you disbelieve.I am researching imagination. Einstein said imagination was a superior target of intellect. He believed that. I do believe it too. My imagination keeps me spellbound in my dreams. I realise little has more and more has nothing that can repair me from within. Life's infinite goal begins with a single step but needs giant intellectual leaps. That's what my medicine for killing death away from
What sweetness does to my mind as a researcher, I am exploring thoroughly. But it does improve my performance, my thinking ability, and duration markedly. It lowers my wounds of past feelings. It helps me understand many scientific concepts with renewed speed. It builds me up from stone to sculpture. I would love to redeem and dream about.I am not alone in this corner. There are now a few more women with missing men. They may be in such a happy swing of life, with no bondages I applied to my wife. I have been rarely in the cafe with my wife. I surely didn't hate her, but it was more a matter of money and time I needed to spend. How much more will I need to save on today's meal to have a coffee tomorrow, too. This money is considered more important than my research for the people of my own society. Jesus was certainly not the only man hurt by his own men around. I experience similar blows from people who surround me. I was happier with a wife than I am with none. All dead, as if none