All things usually come to an end. The end is reliable. It is always there for you. Waiting, knowing, in cold certainty that it is the only thing which persists. Is there anything anywhere without a beginning or an end? There are always gray areas, but those are probably gray because we are not able to shed enough light on them or we are not equipped with the right kind of digging equipment to gather the dirt on them.

Why am I blabbering about the end? Is mine near? I am ever persistent in my attempts to make it closer than ever. Still I stop short since I can't find in me the courage to take the final step. To take the plunge in the deep unknown, and I don't mean deep sea diving here. People say that it's cowardly to take one's own life. In my opinion, it takes maximum courage to end one's life.

I have always envied Forrest Gump for his lucky streak. A series of serendipitious events continuously happening to the not-too-bright millionaire that is Gump. I wish I were as dumb as Gump so that I could trade places with him! Lucky Gump.

If I were to make a movie of my recent past. It would make Gump go dumber. It would be the exact reverse of what was happening to Gump in that movie. I am sure that Edward A Murphy Jr, will be the first person to run up to the Pearly Gates and give me a welcoming embrace when my time comes. He would have been glad to see me live my life.

There are two ways to do anything. The right way and the not-so-right or wrong way. I try choosing the first always, and end up performing the second, and this is not a willingly done act. I never know until it's too late that through my actions I was validating Murphy's law.

There are patterns everywhere. I believe that if a person can identify the patterns which bob around him, he can correlate them with his experience as well as that of the vast treasury of human experience in general, to come up with a decision which is probabilistically destined to be a successful one, or in plain terms, the right one.

The confoundedness arises when someone actually interprets the patterns correctly and decides to risk making a wrong decision in the expectation that the pattern too must come to an end, although the chances of that are slim. That little brain wave that men possess, is exploited to the maximum by the casinos worldwide.

I wish I could play Russian roulette. It would make the mundaneness dissolve away for the few fleeting moments when the eagerness and anxiety of wanting to know whether the bullet has my name on it, would make me alive.

I wish I were alive.