Kamna's Blog

It's hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky It's easier to dig your own grave when it's the sound of eternal silence that you crave It's hard to drown in the deep blue sea when there are jumping dolphins that can set you free It's easier to live in a dream when in reality you can't help but scream It's hard not to crash when your driving is terribly rash It's easier to pull the trigger when you don't have access to a razor It's hard not to laugh when you see a purple giraffe It's easier to allow the ropes to snap when you can't anymore bear to deal with crap It's hard to not suffocate when your heart is full of angst and hate It's easier to jump from a great height when there exists in you no longer the will to fight It's hard to draw courage when you can't seem to locate a bridge It's easier to let it all burn when you're sure you won't get what you yearn.

You have to catch the thought before you let it disappear. Before you forget the idea, you must express it in some form before it's gone forever. Don't wait for your dreams to merge with your reality till it's true. You have to let yourself be who you want to. You have to do the things that make you happy. No one else can give you what you want better than you can. The more self-reliant you are, the more independent you'll be. And with independence comes self-confidence. And if others misconstrue that as selfishness, don't try and prove them otherwise, because nobody is worth that effort. You can't expect anybody to know you. And if someone finally does understand you, without your actions ever being justified, hold on to them. If they can see your strength, and respect you and love you for it, then that's just the multiplication of joy, not the addition of it, to your life. Love and music makes my life beautiful. Music is love. Music is so powerful. I cou

The poor boor and his whore With her body all sore He sat on the sea shore And wondered what he wore When he was at the moor Boots, it was not he was sure For he threw his only pair out the door He had to, as he killed his last whore with it Which caused a lot of gore He needed to keep on killing to maintain score And before murdering, their clothes he tore It excited him otherwise it was a bore The poor boor was sad now A feeling he never felt before And he realised he wanted to kill no more He was in love now: for his new whore, affection pore No matter she looked like a man, no matter she sometimes did roar!

प्रस्तुत कहानी   के   शीर्षक   की   सार्थकता absolutely अनुचित   हैं| The truck was cruising at speeds conceivable only to broad sighted men. Van Der Vaughn sat confident; his 200 pound behind placed comfortably on the custom-made seat, howling enthusiastically along to Motown his woman Pam picked out especially for this road trip. Countless old country traffic signals were being passed with not so much of a look of acknowledgment. Van Der Vaughn had been looking forward for this one journey for twenty five years of the grand enigma that was his life. He didn't come from an easy childhood. His mother was a rag-picker, and he had no father nor any siblings. He was twelve and a half when his mother hanged herself in the Holly Hood's motel. He was put under the care of his Uncle Jim who was a drug dealer cum drunkard. Van worked at a convenience store and did odd jobs for his Uncle's "friends" to put himself through high school. And then, Uncle Jim died. Therea