Breaking Point

From dreams to aspirations; illusions to fantasies; moons to muse, my life is rambling on the path that i chose. Maundering my way through the mundane moments, a cacaphone of voices errupt with in me. May be warning me of the blue ahead. I tried to be what i am not to be, loosing my way all in between. The dreams are drifting as far as they can; breaking the walls of my heart to a seedy hinterland.I don't want to talk about life. I know a lot about it and i see through a lot under the its aegis, benaeth the hood. Fingers drawing with in me, poking at the core of my heart. And i hate it, i hate it, becasue I just don't want my heart to rule my head. The heart does not deserve anything. Giving up one dream for the sake of another. I do not know what retrogrates my faith, neither do i know why i am writing all this down. I know it won't serve any purpose. No book can teach you how to succeed. It's upon one's ownself. And unfortunatley, i do not even have an iota of that. Oh! I am so tired. Not because i am working too much. Tired of loosing it all the time. Opportuities galore at my door step and i turn them away, shitting in the loo.Wonder whats going to happen. I hope the curtians are not drawn upon the play of my life, like a pall of gloom.I begin a new day when i am down. And the result is, i have a new day every day, leaving me at the same spot where i was a month ago.What the shit has happened to me. Why am i like this. The questions are unanswered. And its me who has to explore them and dig them out; before its too late for them to really matter.People say i motivate well, but i know how demoralised, puny and waffled i myself am.It's true though, Loosers make Good coaches.