Only recently, I posted about my reading someone else’ private blog. Can I help it? I hope I could. But prying someone else’s life is tempting. At first it was curiosity of wanting to know something, truth perhaps. It ended with the discovery that words are “just words”. Sometimes those sweet lines we read could cause heart ache (big time) and doubts. Doubts which we tend to ignore but exist deep within.

I once believed that a missing piece has finally been found. But, now I question the idea. Has it been found? Do we really search for that missing piece in the first place? How come we believe we have found it and then later on, we find it … the second time, third time ... again and again?!

Sweet lines. Does it make sense in the end? Does it really matter?

No one completes one person but himself. There is never a missing piece. These missing pieces are creation of our boggled imagination. There is no missing piece. We complete ourselves. No one else can.

As No one fits just right.

Life is not a song, life is not poetry. Life is reality and, reality is… it sucks most of the time.