Yesterday, in midst of unrelated conversation, my friend said, history repeats itself. Is it? Is it what scares me today?
Passion, possession and Lust are lying in my bed. But I don’t see Love. May be I am subconsciously kicking it out cuddling my lust and satisfying my low esteem. Once bitten, twice shy is what always occurred to me when I reasoned about Love. Now it seems, I am scared of being betrayed and ditched again. Ha! May be, history repeats itself.
In an insanely and morally deprived world, where man is busy satisfying his urges and shoving away his selfish motives, one needs to be ultra cautious. The care may be genuine but love is always conditional. I fall in, with a condition. The condition may sometimes overbear the extended period. But conditions always come with an expiry date.
Right now, with free mind and unconditionally I am lying in my bed nurturing my passions. A lonesome otherside of bed is still withering. I caressed across, whispered: the story is brewing nearby, wait if ‘History repeats itself’.