It comes to a point in a man's life that he begins to realize that he is weary. Of people deciding on how one should behave and live one's life, of time that makes one's blood's rush seem so slow, of routines that make life seem so sequential.

We meet strangers, eventually we gain their trust and know their name. And when we utter their names, the phrase from which it resides ends with the word "friend". But then, they remain strangers. Nothing but a mere passers-by on a one way street. They flee...And when they do, we hold on to their memory. And when they do, we value them more. And when their memories begin to inspire us to live, that's when they become more than just a stranger. They become part of our soul.

When we look about us at night, we see the stars. But why can't we stop at just being amazed at their brilliance? Sometimes we can't help but wish "upon that one big star." Perhaps we're just hopefulls. If there's such a word. Or perhaps more appropriately called "hopefools". Believers of a world that exist beyond those stars. If there is none...I would not hesitate to believe. Still believe...even if it means that I'd have to be called a fool. At the very least, I'd live. At the very least, I'd stay sane.

But still today...I'd say, I am weary. But tommorow...might just be another day. Might just be a better one...for me at least. Or perhaps...a wonderful one. :-)