Staying up on a Friday night without alcohol means sorrow. Well, most often. And what do you do about it? Everyone's asleep. And you don't want to talk to humans--you are practically done with them. So? You blog.
Sitting alone on my window sill today I wondered so who goes to hell and who goes to heaven. Who decides? We all have lied, cheated and broken hearts at some point of time. Then? Who is the less cheater among us?
That gorgeous woman I saw at the bar last evening--she looked sad. Somehow. Her heart may have been broken. But then again she may have broken a thousand of hearts too. That cute guy sitting on the next table, waiting for his girlfriend maybe, may have blamed people for his faults. Several times.
And I realised, there maybe no hell or heaven at all. It's what we carry with ourselves. The bad memories are hell, and the good ones are heaven. But somehow hell always overpowers heaven.
Sitting alone on my window sill today I wondered so who goes to hell and who goes to heaven. Who decides? We all have lied, cheated and broken hearts at some point of time. Then? Who is the less cheater among us?
That gorgeous woman I saw at the bar last evening--she looked sad. Somehow. Her heart may have been broken. But then again she may have broken a thousand of hearts too. That cute guy sitting on the next table, waiting for his girlfriend maybe, may have blamed people for his faults. Several times.
And I realised, there maybe no hell or heaven at all. It's what we carry with ourselves. The bad memories are hell, and the good ones are heaven. But somehow hell always overpowers heaven.
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