I took a walk this morning and realized in the act of walking, the uselessness of walking, thinking and living
I am wasting my life away under spell of words, pages after pages of books I read and that’s all I can do
In the process of reading one forgets oneself into mere lucidity of imaginations
I drink too much caffeine
Caffeine is not healthily for one’s body but productive for any work of art
When I think of death, I think of the time before my birth
I have killed myself thousand times in my short stories
The only consolation in death is the inability to think like a tombstone over a grave
First I resign from life later I bid farewell to all friends and family
I welcome sorrows and grief to take over me
I took refuge in literature, arts and philosophy
One must invent a new way of killing oneself
Less painful, less pleasurable and more enjoyable is death than life
To take revenge on life I seek to produce books after books