For love..

   Not a job. It's just a passion; a sudden urge to express yourself. Not a responsibility. Just a though; waiting to be put down, like many others. Not a commitment. It's just a feeling, overwhelming at times. Writing.
   Thoughts are mere shout outs of your mind unless they're written down. Ideas aren't concrete until they're put out and opinions don't matter until they're stated. Have a dream? Write it down. A materialistic reminder is much better than a mere thought that preoccupies you. One day, when you will be at the top of the hill, dreams made reality and standing by the flag of your victory, those words you wrote down will remind you of who you are, where you started from and everything beyond.
     It might look like abstract ideas expressed in queer gibberish, but these are the purest thoughts put down in a jargon everyone is familiar with. It's an art, acquired with time and persistence. Expressing yourself is the best thing you could, and you should do. You're here for a reason. Tell the ones around you what you think, how you feel and everything else they need to know. There's so much you have inside those abstract boundaries that is fighting to get out, that is yearning to be heard by someone. The one who understands. But at times you're alone. Or you need more than a physical reassurance, you need someone to understand, but there isn't anyone. Just let it flow through those words.
     I hate myself for not being so expressive, loyal and honest to myself. I know I never did justice to my passion, my ability to write. But I try. Believe me.