I just feel like a half empty wine glass. Not half full. Its like somebody had done a bad job of trying to fill it and given it up mid-way, leaving everybody to ponder about its content, its richness. Even the glass itself can't make up its mind. And time continues to fly by as it always did, not stopping to give even one glance.

Atleast the glass holds hope. Of being filled to the brim. I don't even have that. Isn't that worse?