The Unabridged Journals of Karissa Gupta

  Death and regret seem to be two dependent words, don’t they? Whenever an ominous gray cloud envelops my mind, and rakes my thoughts onto the tingling notion of death and what lies beyond it, I'm left with involuntary shudders that rattle every nerve of my body. As thoughts of death overpower all feelings of rationality, I can’t help but wonder, what is it that I will regret when I have no time left to rectify my wrongs? When my clock will run out, what is it for which I will wish I had just a few more seconds? When the chapter of my life closes, what parts will I wish to whiten out? These questions often sweep through my overwhelmed mind, rendering me anxious as I grapple with the acceptance of the fact that the sands of time keep trickling through the crevices between my fingertips.  These notions of mine were swiftly overturned when I read the masterpiece that is better known as, He Never Expected Much. Written by Thomas Hardy, this poem is an antithesis of the traditional...