I’ve been a narcissist most of times and for the other times, I’ve been hasty for myself. I always try to relate myself with things that never make sense, because I never do. I’ve been accused of writing stuff only about me, and not other things around, but the way I see it, I can write about other stuff only when I step into their shoes and see the world from their eyes. If I hadn’t done that, I’d have ended just opining about them and not really expressing the true feelings that I share with them. For instance, while I was strolling on the empty service road lanes, I saw many trees standing tall beside the ruthless highway and I felt like I was one of them. All my friends who were close to me had been cut off from my sight and taken away to an alien land. The ones who were left by my side, didn’t speak a word because they were strangers and they were afraid of sharing their sorrows because whenever they did, they shed leaves and made themselves more susceptible to exterminatio...
Seasons turn, yet their rhythm never falters. The rains arrive when they must, the sun blazes in its time, and winter winds whisper their quiet chill. So too with this blog—its name carries a deliberate flaw, a gentle reminder that mistakes are part of us, often unnoticed, sometimes beautiful. Let this one be the sweetest slip of all: where Ameet becomes a myth, and myths find their faith. That's "Ameethyst"—born of imperfection, yet gleaming all the more for it.