I planned on filling up my black and white sketch with the strokes vibrant colors that depict and distinguish me, I planned on picking out the thunder clouds taking their silver lining out and hanging the silver out on starless nights, I planned on fighting against the deceitful rage of the fearsome sun and taking over the wind grasping it and using it in times of nerve wrecking heat, I planned on tearing down a thousand soldiers, fighting even death, and leaping across valleys at once and casting spell on all people to make my time of these 15 almost 16 years worthy of becoming the most happiest fairy tale of all which has obviously been written by the almighty me, the writer of my fate, destiny, fortune, the ruler of my kingdom and the god of my world.

But nothing I do ever goes according to plan I make a mistake while painting my sketch, I lose balance and my painting is not even worth looking at, as I take out the clouds to rip them off of their silver lining the line breaks in the middle due to my clumsiness, the rage of the sun is too much for me to handle, the wind is too strong for me to grasp, I am too weak to take on a thousand soldiers and much too insignificant to fight death, I am too powerless to leap across valleys at once or to cast spell on my fellow comrades, but I am capable of one tiny thing that is I am competent to write every page of this book, am capable of drawing every single fortune line on my palm, am proficient enough of drawing my dreams from my head into reality and am utterly able of altering my future and changing the world’s. I dare to say that I am competent enough to be the god of my world.

Every person in this world is God. God of their faith, God of their greed, God of their desires, God of their fate, of their fortune, of their loss and of their gain, God of their belief in god, belief in themselves, God of their confusion, misinterpretation, misunderstanding, bad luck and the keeper of their life. Every person in the worlds is a writer the writer of the book of facts and real events, books of their past, their present and their future, the writer, the god of their individual lives. Shakespeare once said “The whole world’s a stage and all men and women simply players”. Yes, players acting their own individual plays, fulfilling their role of a writer in their life and making sure that what they desire is brought into existence so they can fulfill their role of God for themselves.

We human are weird extremely bizarre, creepy and peculiar beings. Instead of believing in ourselves we have faith in some stone sculpture that has been given a name by one of our kind. Instead of working for what we crave we find it easier to sing to a stone sculpture, put red powder on the sculpture, fast days in and out and worship some stone sculpture that doesn’t even respond to us, doesn’t eat the Prasad we put on the plate and doesn’t even breathe. We believe in a sculpture that is lifeless and doesn’t have a heart. But no matter what we keep on believing, I keep on believing…

It is because it becomes far easier for us lifting up the burden. If what we desire is not fulfilled, we say “God didn’t want that. What can we do?” But this is just a way for us to run away from reality, from our mistakes and what could have been done by us, it is a way of gaining self satisfaction by putting the blame on not someone else but an inexistent something else, in other words it is an easy way for us puny humans to turn around from the problems that we created and just run away. That is what God wanted, right?? Or is it what you want??? Because this is not God’s life it is mine and even if God exists God cannot toy around with my life only I have the authority to do that.