Tuesday, December 25, 2012

the dark place of my mind is a horrible place to be.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

L.A. 101

The room was lit with dull lighting. The word "room" didn't even really justify this damp, echoey space we were in. As people filtered in, their footsteps resounded on the floor and bounced around the walls. I was one of the first ones to arrive. Ah, the likes of the rest. Sordid looking faces, one by one taking the eighteen chairs that made up our circle, not counting the podium. Some sat with their hands folded into their laps. Others sat twitching and fiddling with their thumbs, nervously glancing around at the others.

Soon, all eighteen seats were filled. I waited for some kind of sign that the session was about to begin. It was eerily quiet. Then we heard the faint sound of footsteps, becoming louder and louder. And there she was, the supervisor. I can only assume she was the supervisor, she was the only one who looked happy to be here. Sharply dressed in heels, a pencil skirt, a black vest and light purple shirt, and her hair tightly pushed into a bun, she defined the goal we were trying to achieve. The ability to look at life straight in the eyes that none of us had anymore.

She walked up to the podium and began speaking.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to your first session of Lovelorn Anonymous! My name is Linda Goodwill. LA was founded two years ago when I, realized that it isn't just alcohol and narcotics that people can be addicted to, but dependency as well. So we began to gather people, to help them talk about the love they have become addicted to, and help them move on. Now, we don't judge. Love is strange, and it can be blind, but there is no such thing as "better love." We'll begin today by introducing ourselves and our stories, and those who touched us so deeply we found we had to be here today. So then, let's begin!"

We all tried to avoid her gaze, but she picked one out anyway to begin. A skinny man, with pants up to his chest, and thick framed glasses. He was one of the twitchy ones. As he came up to the podium, he started visibly shaking.

"Hello," he stuttered, "my name is Carl, and I am in love. I met her three years ago, at a coffee shop. She was... Oh, she took my breath away. And it seemed like we were perfect for each other. We went shopping for our cats together, we made wheatgrass smoothies for each other. We even discussed the possibility of working as accountants at the same firm! But then she left me." His voice started choking. "And for whom? For a brawny marketer with a motorbike! He doesn't even like cats!" Carl started sobbing uncontrollably into his handkerchief.

Linda quickly went to his side and helped him back to his seat.

"There, there Carl. I'm sure many of our members have gone through the same experience. Love is not fair, and sometimes it is fleeting, but we have to learn what it has to teach us, and move on as braver, stronger, wiser people. Now, who's next?"

The next person was a woman, who looked around 30. Long disshelved brown hair, short, tired looking eyes, and, in the only way to say it, the size of a small elephant. She walked to the podium holding a chocolate bar in her hand.

"Hello everyone, my name is Monica." She took a bite out of the chocolate bar. "I met him in a weight watchers class. Yes, believe it or not, I wasn't always in the good shape that I am now." Bite. "We seemed meant to be. Our eyes met in the mirrors in our Pilates class, and it was love at first sight. It was as if when we found each other, we didn't need food to be happy anymore. Collectively, we even lost 300 kilos." Bite, bite. "We were engaged to be married when, two months later, he ran away with the wedding planner! That anorexic bitch! Who eats salad with light dressing for lunch anyway?! If I ever meet the two of them again, I'll tie them both up and stuff them with my Grandma's Thankgiving pudding! Let's see how they stand each other when they're both fat and ugly!" And that was the end of the chocolate bar.

Monica went back to her seat, and started digging in her purse for what I could only hope was a Valium (it wasn't, alas, another chocolate bar), and Linda took the stage again.

"Thank you for sharing Monica. As you can see, a dissatisfied end to a relationship can lead to lots of pent up rage and frustration, which can be the undoing of a person. Also, as Monica demonstrated, when leaving one habit, we can be prone to the dangers of cross addiction." Monica's brow furrowed in confusion.

The fourth man went up. Middle aged, paunchy. A little balding on the top.

"My name is Peter," he began, "and my wife and I divorced six months ago. No, it's not what you think, she was a downright witch. But she took away the love of my life, my baby, my pride and joy. The only one who would come running to me when I'd come home every evening tired from the office. Who'd want to spend time with me no matter how much hair I lost or weight I put on. Who loved me as much as I loved him." He took out a picture from his pocket and showed it to us. "My dog, Mr Crumbles! Isn't he adorable? It was his birthday yesterday and my wife wouldn't even let me bring him his favorite chew toy!" Peter held in his sobs till he got to his chair, and started passing around the picture of Mr Crumbles. A daschund, no less.

Like this, people kept going up and telling their stories, each unique from the rest. But the same heartache, the same sorrow. Finally it was my turn.

Let me tell you, it's weird trying to express the severe anguish that your soul is going through in a room with a man in love with his dog. And yet, off I went.

"Um, hi everyone, my name is Angie. My story isn't as spectacular, or unique, or all that different from any of the usual stories you here. In fact, it's quite a common story. And to be honest, I fall in love all the time. I've been in love with every man I've been with. But I was in love with them, for them. Because I knew I could be there for them, and because they needed me. Then I fell in love for me, and it was really different from what I expected, because for a change, I needed him too. We were together for a year, and it was something else. I guess it was a bit of a learning experience for me, because I'm not that great with the relationship thing. We had our ups and downs, we laughed and cried, and the year passed by in a daze. But then we had to end it, even though somehow we still love each other. There isn't much I can say about grief that hasn't been said before. It's just  that, months later, I feel out of breath when I think about how I won't see him for a really long time. I've stopped listening to songs that remind me of him. I think sometimes that I'm getting better, but all I'm doing is filing things away in the hope that they'll eventually disappear. It's just, I'm tired of feeling sad now. That's about it."

Silence. Pretty awkward when you've just poured out your heart.

"That's it? No rage issues?"

"He didn't leave you for someone else? Why are you complaining!"

"So you can't listen to a few crumby songs, big whoop! There's lots of other crap out there to listen to!"

"Why don't you just get a dog?"

"Eat cake, that satisfies like no man ever could!"

"Sit down! Atleast he didn't cut off your limb!"

"Or eat your hair!"

Linda intervened. "Now, now, just because Angie is not going through something extreme in terms of the situation than others, it does not mean we should underestimate her emotional upheaval. Angie, that was very brave of you to share. Thank you."

I sat down somewhat confused about what had just happened.

"Next class, we will discuss ideas of channeling our energies to more proactive activities such as kickboxing and yoga. Some of you will be recommended to not join in any martial arts activities till further on in the recovery program. Good night everyone!

Had an idea. Overdone rant in a new format. 

Monday, November 26, 2012

what is wrong with me!!!!

fasttrack. its time to move on move on move on.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Things to be happy about (#1)

1) Hair flying all over the place while the auto rickshaw is flying down the road, making me feel like a cool Medusa.
2) Katya coming to Sweden for New Years!
3) Chocolate cake with strawberries all to myself.
4) The image of Lloy sitting on Aman.
5) Meeting a penguin someday.
6) Timmy and Nele. (Just aaaaa.... littlebit!)
7) Getting a compliment from someone cute.
8) Stacy beating up Salman every time he annoys her.
9) Dirty jokes.
10) That time with the wedding music in the background.

to be continued.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

fuck everything. 

Thursday, November 8, 2012

the best part of living here in this new city is the walk home alone at odd hours of the night. it is by far the most beautiful part of any day. the city is relatively quiet, barring the odd drunk first year puking in a corner, the cobblestone streets are lit with the soft yellow glow of street lights. the archaic architecture surrounding city center, with (these days) its glistening christmas decorations in the windows makes me calm and happy. the churches, the autumn leaves. it's like i have the city all to myself and there is no one to bother me, no one to conflict with my peace.

because of how safe it is here, walking home at four in the morning alone doesn't seem like a dangerous mission, but a gift of time. the alcohol never helps me warm up, and i usually rush rush rush to my home. there is always a quiet calm. sometimes there is music. and there's always this sense of freedom to be myself, with no overarching thoughts, no troubles, no nothing. just me and my insignificant musings about the world.

past midnight tonight, i was walking on the road that is the last stretch before i reach home. the wide beautiful empty street all to myself. i always have this urge to run like a little kid. but i'm always too scared about what people would think. i had this urge again tonight, and i almost leaned forward to break into a run but then hesitated, thinking, it's so stupid. then i thought, well, there's no one to see my stupidity, and i broke into a sprint till the end of the road, running with arms flailing, hair flying, as fast as i could. and it was amazing. to give in to urges once in a while. and the feeling of running like a kid. i'm so jealous of kids. they can act however they want and would always be excused.

that is why i love this city. it gives me the space and time to do silly things like run down a road in the middle of the night for no reason.

Friday, October 26, 2012

soul call

believe, just for a second, in the possibility of a miracle. suspend all your thoughts and pragmatic assumptions, and believe that sometimes dreams come true.

the day hadn't yet begun but i was suddenly jolted awake by an empty void. by habit i checked my phone again for some sort of respite from the distance, but sadly, there was none. laying awake staring at the ceiling turning slowing slowly lighter as the sun began to rise, i started to drift off, curling up tighter into my comforter, wishing and wishing that he was back beside me.

they say when you truly wish for something, from the bottom of your heart, it comes true.

as i drifted off, i suddenly felt his lips press against mine! this must be a dream, i thought. but it's so perfect i dare not open my eyes. i could feel his warmth and as he kissed me i lifted up and into his arms.

with resolve i opened my eyes to confirm that i was dreaming. but, no, there he was! sitting on my bed ten thousand miles away from home. looking back into my eyes and smiling and his smile was so familiar, and i could touch him again and his arms were back around me and everything was right again and the moment was perfect. did we talk? can't remember. probably nothing of consequence. but then he lay me down to sleep again and vanished like a dream.

and i refuse to believe that it was. it wasn't him, yes, but it was a part of him that was there, and it wasn't me that met him but a part of me.

it's just something else, i think, if you imagine that a soul can call out to another soul, and they respond, and for a brief moment of unconsciousness, you have the gift of meeting someone you sorely miss. and i refuse to think it was just a dream because it felt too real. too much of a memory for me to let it go. it's like a balm, to believe.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

an endless procession of men that i must make sure remain happy. this is the story of my life. for some reason, women get by much better.

for a long long long time, i've dealt with the endless guilt and emotional blackmail that men in my life have been inflicting on me. it started about three years ago.

specimen number one. had something for me that i couldn't reciprocate. thus used me to continuously whine and i listened because i felt guilty for rejecting him. six months, that lasted.

specimen number two. felt angry about me dating his best friend. i continuously apologized to him for weeks. after which he was gracious enough to talk to me again. why i needed his approval i'll never know. but i just kept apologizing.

specimen number three. my fault really. i cheated on him. with someone that i had started to love. it wasn't his fault, and i listened to his anger for days or weeks. and i tried to placate him. tried to make him feel better. apologized and apologized. fuck.

specimen number four. fell for me. i didn't fall for him though. i told him, how i was still getting over someone else. though now we become physically intimate only because of the guilt that overwhelms me when i tell him no and he feels sad, because he's tried everything and been so sweet, and yet i do not reciprocate in the way he wants.

specimen number five. the only one i was ever completely crazy about. whose happiness means everything to me. and who's sad now because of where my life is going. but i'm too exhausted. exhausted by the collective guilt. exhausted by trying to please every single fucking person in my life. i can't please him now. i can't please him. because he's right. what is happening is happening.

fuck. i'm so tired of all this guilt.

two nights ago, it was beautiful. i was out, and happy, and free. it wasn't a feeling i've had in a long time. this feeling of not worrying about anyone, and not worrying about the consequences of my actions on anyone. that is what i want right now. that beautiful feeling of being free.
fuck my life.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Writing, for me, is a bad sign. If I'm writing a lot it means I'm thinking a lot. If I'm thinking a lot it means theres something wrong. If there's something wrong and I can't do anything about it, it confuses me. And confusion is sadness. And sadness is bad. And writing is the only answer.

But things are alright now, and there is peace.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Caution: lots of nonsense shit ahead.

How stupid it is to miss someone. To pine after them when they're gone, when in the grand scheme of things, we're but a flicker of light before it's gone like a candle on a raft on an endless, angry ocean. That's what we are though. Feeble and lost, floating to a destination that actually isn't there, just hoping that there is no wave yet with the name of our candle on it.

And isn't it romantic to imagine that there are other candles floating alongside us in in this ocean, but we are blind to them but for a millisecond, when somehow the light meets the other light, and there is a circle, an aura of contentedness and somehow we block out the vast tumultuous ocean and look within, on the rafts. And the ocean gets jealous and makes us rise and fall together, heaving and tossing until one wave gone astray separates the rafts forever and the circle is broke and the candles are solitary again.

And somehow, we'd forgotten the grayness of the ocean and the endlessness seems bleaker still. 

Friday, September 14, 2012

fate is the path of least resistance.

it's good when you get hiccups because it means somebody misses you.

it's bad when you get hiccups and you hope somebody misses you.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

so ironic i wanna kill myself

clicks on next link of 2 broke girls episode to alleviate boredom through sleeplessness.

screen says enter the words in the box below to prove you are not an alien.

words are: moot point

looks up at sky. (actually the roof, but generally in the heavenly direction)

shakes fist

Not being part of a social networking site gives you a lot of time to do lots of other useless things. I found this. Never posted it before. It's from February, 2012.

Your past is like rain. When I think of you and your family and your friends and your community, it makes me think of rain. Of light showers and the smell of wet soil.

Whereas my home, my ancestral home (although there isn’t any of the grandeur that the term ‘ancestral’ demands... though I suppose it has its mystique) reminds me of sand. Hot sand burning underfoot. Sometimes cool sand turning into mud that you can sculpt. But you know it won’t last forever. Prickles. Tickles. Keep your eyes shut or it’ll make them burn. Appropriate for the dry sand storms that we have right before the rains every time I’m at home. A forgotten palace in the midst of squalor, with denizens living in the old past. So Marquez.

I have to let you in on an unhealthy secret. I wither away when you leave me. I know our fate is sealed, and I know I’ll take it. But right now, I feel too tied to you. If it happens again, I won’t shed any tears. I’ll just wither away. My insides feel empty, my skin deadens. It really isn’t healthy, I know.

It feels incomplete. Like I was suddenly interrupted by a doorbell ringing twice, fast. It used to be the happiest sound.

Friday, August 31, 2012

perhaps the most frustrating part of having a relationship problem (besides the actual problem) is trying to explain it to your friends. i mean, it is for me. because, there will be one of two outcomes. either the friend will take his side, which is unacceptable, or they will take my side, which i can't trust because he or she's probably being biased for my sake.

yeah there's some issues i have with life.

when i started the last relationship i had, it was like a dream. but people didn't see it that way. many people, almost strangers, asked me what the hell i was doing. they scoffed, saying, yeah like that's gonna last. "don't fall in love with a junkie" one said. i laughed all of them off because they didn't know what the hell they were talking about. and they really didn't. they didn't know this man. they didn't know me. i know what i was getting into. i was right, their proclamations were all wrong.

when problems started to surface, i couldn't tell anyone. i couldn't bear to have someone speak ill of him because they didn't know the whole story. they were only hearing my side of it, and using it to prove themselves and their preconceived misconceptions right. when they still didn't know him at all. i didn't want to see that "i told you so" look in their eyes, as if to say, "we warned you, now don't you see we were right all along?" no you weren't right! he's brilliant and awesome and everyone makes mistakes! "so then why are you crying to us about it?" well, because, i can't just keep it all in. not forever. but i hated how people judged him without knowing about him, and i put him in a good light, and hid what negative things i had in my mind. he's a good guy after all. they don't need to think themselves right because of what i say in my emotional turmoil.

then there's that part, when they say get over it. you'll find someone else. you'll go hook up with plenty of hot british men soon enough. and i get angry at these people too. because doesn't anyone understand that i was in love? saying i'll get over it and find someone else... it's not really addressing the matter now is it? usually my high school crush used to be the ultimate love of my life, but recently he's been upstaged. by this stupid foolish man. there's no contest. sure i may be childish, may not have even lived half my life, but this was the most serious thing in my life and it did make me go insane to such a point that i don't recognize myself. i go batshit crazy at the thought of him with someone else. and these people who tell me to get over it, they don't understand that you can't "turn off" a relationship like its a movie that you got bored of watching. yes we broke up. yes i was the one to do it. this deadline was like some sense of impending doom looming over my head, and the closer we came to the end, the crazier i started to get. to be fair, i never thought we would last this long to have to say farewell when we went our separate ways. in the beginning, i was infatuated but i wasn't in love. damn. now that i think back. everyone else paled in comparison. and i went insane.

being in love is not pretty. and its not a switch! no i can't "get over it." it's like that song by as tall as lions. this one line that i love, and yet freaks me out. they say, love's not a grave, it won't decay on you.

you know, back in ninth grade, i overheard this guy who i had a crush on saying something mean about me, and i felt the wind punched out of my lungs, and i thought that my heart was breaking. in a sense i thought i was maturing, and i hid my then barely grazed heart like a battle wound, and felt like a grown woman. well now i know, they weren't kidding when they named it heard break. and hell it's not something that lets you hold your head up.

there aren't many people that i can talk to who won't point fingers, in this whole matter. either they'll point fingers at me, or at him. but you know, in the end, they'll say move on. that's the final verdict. and that's the conclusion i can't stand. things ended between us because it was a condition imposed right from the start of our relationship. it wasn't something that was ever questioned. just a given.

one should never fall in love with a time bomb. i guess that's the lesson.

i guess a new city is the place to be. new places. new people. new me? no, old me. old old, ninth grade me. just a little more guarded this time. it's time to be aloof and stone hearted again. sharing feelings just creates conflict. it's alright to not feel about things. screw this being vulnerable to be happy crap. screw everyone who thought i needed to open up more. just goes to show, listening to people never gets you anywhere good.

need to cut this goddamn cord.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

a break up is like pregnancy. soon enough every little thing makes you wanna throw up.

Friday, August 24, 2012

heavy heavy heart.

sorry glee, i did stop believing. 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

sometimes we can only tell people how much we love them when we're intoxicated.

Sunday, August 19, 2012


Friday, August 17, 2012

three years ago. somewhere i don't remember

my friend was sitting on my bed, in the hostel late one  night, going through the pictures on my camera. six months had gone by now in this new family and new environment. most of the pictures were of the recent trip to bombay that we'd gone on. it was the usual night at the hostel. full of nonsense.

"hey, why do you still have this picture on your camera? it was from ages ago!"

i didn't know what she meant. i looked at the picture she was talking about. oh yeah. this stupid picture of him looking happy, jumping in the air.

"oh that's still on there? must have forgotten to delete it." she gave me a look. uff, why does she read into things so much?

"none of the other pictures from that day are there." she smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. i swear, she wiggled them! i don't know how she does it.

i ignored her. i looked at the picture again. at this almost stranger who made me smile for no reason.

happy birthday, stranger

Thursday, August 16, 2012

in a relationship, it shouldn't be a label that holds you back from the things you want to do, and the people you want to see. in a relationship, you shouldn't feel held back from these things. if you do, then the relationship doesn't exist for you, its just the label. make sure you tell that to the other person, so that the other person isn't shocked by all the things you do now that the label has been ripped apart.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

blinking lights. thudding music. faces flash for a second, eyes shut, faces in concentration. everyone is moving to a single beat. hot, perspiring shoulders. she's leaning against the bar, already unsteady on her feet. so many people. so lonely still. what was wrong with her? time for another shot.

the whiskey burns down her throat. slowly the smile comes back. she goes up to a guy.

"so why aren't you dancing?" she asks him.

"i'll dance if you come with me" he smiles. she laughs, takes the stranger's hands, and guides him to the dance floor. she moves, forgetting that these are people she will see tomorrow. she closes her eyes, forgetting that this is not him.

when she opens her eyes again, the man's shirt is covered in sweat. and she sees him. the one she is supposed to be with. she sees him swinging another woman in his arms, and she's laughing. she doesn't need to close her eyes.

why is it that she feels scared to ask him for a dance?

damn. still not drunk enough. she leaves the stranger there, not sure if he notices. and heads back to the bar for another whiskey shot.
i didn't deserve this. didn't deserve the anger. didn't deserve the insecurities. didn't deserve to be replaced. didn't deserve to be second place to someone. didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. didn't deserve to be forgotten at the drop of a hat. didn't deserve to be treated like an non existing entity. didn't deserve to be played around with. didn't deserve my feelings to be classed as unimportant.

things finally changed. the love evaporated. strings cut.

someone once told me i would regret being in a long distance relationship because i would regret taking all that effort to meet the person, once it was over. they were wrong. i regret this five minutes away relationship a lot more.

breathe, erase, reset.

happy independence day

Tuesday, August 14, 2012


dusk was settling in through the half open windows when she finally opened her eyes and grudgingly kicked the duvet to the floor. night time already?

what a waste of life. but it was better than being awake. those long empty hours. maybe she'd stay in bed for just a bit longer just staring at the ceiling. cold and lonesome. a hard change to make, having that bed to herself. without a warm body to sleep next to. she reached out to the bedside table, found a half a cigarette, and searched with her fingers for a matchbox. with all her energy, she rose, put the cigarette to her mouth and tried, and tried to light the matchstick unsuccessfully. oh that's right, the empty glass lying on the floor reminded her, she'd spilled water all over her table in drunken haze last night.

who was he, the man from last night? just a blur in her memory, he hadn't even left a piece of evidence except for her unreliable recollections from last night. the last thing she remembered, was laughing, throwing her heels to him while they stumbled home from the bar together. what was his name again? couldn't remember. did they do it? she stood up from her bed, catching the wall as the head rush blinded her.

as her vision returned, she assessed the room around her. the day was breathing its last and orangeish light was streaming in the way she liked it. the creaky wooden floors were cluttered with clothes and piles of books and papers. she stumbled to the gas stove across the room with her cigarette, looking for the lighter. her phone blinked next to the stove. she unlocked it, already dreading her choice. battery low. no messages. one missed call from her mom. anger boiled up and she threw her phone against the wall in rage screaming in frustration. the phone broke into three pieces as it fell to the floor.

anger kept rising. she looked frantically for the lighter and found it under a mug. sweet relief of nicotine. she took a drag, and went to the window. ever since she was a little girl, she loved to sit at the window and watch the world go by. and now, she watched the day pass and awaited the cover of night. in the quietude of the world, she found comfort. in a dark corner of the bar, she found peace. nothing satiated her like liquor. not reading a book, which she would restlessly throw to the floor in a few minutes. not cleaning her room, which would bring back memories that she kept suppressed. no. sleep and liquor. those were her friends. they dulled the pain like nothing else.

and the men. she smiled when she looked out. they would come expectantly to her place, and if they were lucky, she would be able to withhold the puke and they would haphazardly fumble under the sheets. if she was lucky, he would stay till morning. and then he would disappear.

they all leave in the end.

Monday, August 13, 2012

what a brilliant summer this is. can't wait for it to end.
just goes to show that the minute you let your guard down, the minute you decide to be happy, BAM life punches you in the gut, leaving you breathless and shaking.

fuck naruto. fuck his tshirt. fuck the notes. fuck the cd. fuck the letter. fuck these emotions. fuck mugsy and fuck moot.

this generation needs to get some fucking integrity and grow the fuck up.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

heres what i've lost.

desire to wake up
desire to get out of bed
desire to make breakfast
desire to eat

desire to talk
desire to laugh
desire to sleep

and repeat.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

never been more in the mood to give someone a piece of my mind. someone. anyone.


Thursday, August 9, 2012

half of all the world's family drama would end if, at dinner, families watched cartoon network instead of a soap opera.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

i play so far away by dire straits a million times each night because it expresses everything  i want to say to you about how much i miss you. then i get sick of it. then i turn it off. then i play it a million times again the next night.

Saturday, August 4, 2012


it's a funny thing, having a place in your heart, or your mind, or whatever, that's reserved for a ball of white, pure, hot anger, that never ceases to burn, that will never run out, that keeps you fueled for life, and that no matter what you do or don't do or think or forgive, that place won't go away, and its existence pains your existence, but somehow keeping it for all these years has made you form yourself to a shape that can accommodate that anger, and keep it within you but without you, keep it hidden yet very much alive, like a crazed convict with a maniacal laughter that resounds off of dungeon walls, but that you shush in the presence of good company, that you keep quiet in the presence of any company actually, because this secret of yours, this precocious secret, it can't be let out, no matter how much it tries to break through from within, no matter how angry or upset it makes you, no matter if it makes you want to tear the head off the person that has caused its birth, because it's your secret you know, and you're scared what kind of rampage it would cause were it to be let out, and if it were let out would it lose its power, or would you lose your fuel? is it even the right kind of fuel? you've tried to quell it a million times over the years, try and try and even then when you see the face that caused it you can think to yourself that you may be over it, but then the white, pure, hot ball of anger starts to bubble and cause trouble and you hope that your eyes don't leak out the secret that they have to withhold, because if they do, no, that would be a catastrophe and families would burn down, or would they, maybe no one would actually care, maybe the reason for the fuel in your life is meaningless to other people, so no, this secret you hold on to yourself like a lunatic till your grave, and perhaps in your grave before the sand finally covers you, you can point to someone, and whisper this horrible secret into their ear and finally die in peace, hoping that perhaps some justice will be brought, and that anger which caused so much suffering will bear fruit, but even if it doesn't, you did your part, you didn't hurt anyone, you kept it within for so many years, and now you can let go in peace and close your eyes and not be haunted by memories that make you scream in humiliation, but instead dream in the blackness of your mind of a white light that is going to comfort you in your final moment. where you will finally be safe.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

on being home

I don't know why mothers never seem to think that their child eats enough. Never will a mother say, "Gosh, beta, one more roti? Don't you think you've had enough?" (Except for my aunt, who's got a child as heavy as a baby elephant. Seriously, no joke. And he's eleven. He's on food patrol.)

So, following suit, when my mother saw me after a year, she immediately pounced on my emaciated health, raggedy clothes (both of which, I'd thought, were perfectly fine) and general pathetic state of being. You know you've slipped low in the world when your mother refused to be seen with you in those chappals. That, or a severe generation gap.

I knew she meant it all in kindness, however. So I begrudgingly (haha) went for the shopping trips, bought myself a decent pair of shoes, some new pants. (Another weird thing about my mother (and I could go on and on) is that she always insists on buying clothes that are size S. Now, I don't know if she's making up for when she had to buy XXL clothes for me when I was ten or what, but damn those clothes make it hard for me to breathe! And I came home to eat, not to worry about love handles that would be going to waste anyway!)

Another awesome thing about my apparently anorexic form (which in itself is laughable because I weigh ten kilos more than some of my other friends) is that I now get to take vitamin supplements. Lemme explain to you why they're awesome. This means you can eat all the junk in the world, and be sure that your body is getting the nutrients it needs. Calcium, magnesium, iron, vitamins A to Z or whatever. It's awesome. And, just by the way, it starts making your hair and skin awesome! Goodbye frizz, hello healthy shiny hair!

Sure they nag, crib and whine about they way you're wasting your life away, but in the end, if you know how to balance it right, being with family can be beneficial for both parties. Never thought that was possible.

Discovering books that you used to read when you were twelve is like reuniting with your old best friends.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Uff this prolonged longing for the long gone.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

You know, the scary thing about relationships is that there is no way you can hide who are you from the person you are in a relationship with. Whatever odd quirky eccentricity you have will be revealed to the other person in due course of time. And that can be scary for those of us who don't fart out butterflies, if you get what I'm saying.

There are lots of things we spruce up before we head out the door. Hair, makeup, contact lenses - yes. Weird habits, granny panties, dysfunctional childhood, etc - under the bed. But this person, with whom you're about to share every being of your self with, they're going to know all about everything. And you just have to hope that they'll stick with you despite it. Or if you're lucky, because of it.

So I was lucky enough to meet someone who forced me to be myself on an everyday basis. Here are some things I've done with him that I don't usually do with anyone except maybe sometimes my really close friends. Or not even them (the PG rated list)

1. Wore my glasses in the mornings.
2. Left my hair in an unruly mess.
3. Cried my heart out.
4. Cooked horrible food for (which he still ate and complimented)
5. Thrown up in front of and been a disgusting drunk mess in general.
6. Expressed my weird need that he be in his own house so I could... you know.. shit. (Funny story.. he thought I  had problems with him because I was telling him to go home for such a ridiculous reason.)
7. Told him how I actually feel about him (the good and the bad)
8. Talked about family. And future dreams.
9. Named our imaginary child Momo.
10. Eaten in my full messy glory. With mayonnaise dripping down my chin and whatnot.

There's probably lots of other things. And the thing is, I learned so many things about him that I normally wouldn't know, and that make him the person that he is. I'm glad that I got to know someone so damn well.

Ironically, when I told my first boyfriend that I wanted to get to know him completely, he completely stopped calling. Ah well, probably didn't have much to say.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

A lot of self reflection has been happening lately. Mostly because there's just so much goddamn time to think about things. And I realized that sometimes, it's just really hard to talk to people. Just some people. Actually a lot people. These people come in the category of those that I have some respect for and want to keep talking to.

See, the people who I don't care about are really easy to talk to. Because, deep down, I think I have a superiority complex somewhere. I say what's on my mind and dare them to judge me. Low risk involved with these sorts of people. Being myself with these people is what actually helped me have the most interesting conversations.

Then, there's the close friends. The people I love and trust. Those are easy as well. Even if we don't communicate for days on end, I know it will be the same.

Then there's the horde of outside friends with whom occur the awkward conversations. The conversations are only good for short witty banter (if lucky) or awkwardly asking about their families. And other awkward areas of life and sordidness.

You know who's fault it is? My mother's. For feeding me when I was young and making me so fat that no one ever talked to me, hence robbing me of gaining the skill of social interaction.

I miss that chubby girl. She had it all figured out. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

If God has a plan for everyone, why are there homeless people?

I mean, what if that's the plan for me? To live a decrepit life of poverty in a box under a highway, brains addled by cheap liquor and heroine, with a graying cat named Cat for company? Wrinkly and haggard.

I think I'd walk with a staff. And slouch towards happy kids, prophesizing of the return of the Great Toad of Yore with great and dramatic hand gestures. And a missing tooth.

That could be a plan. Hmmm.

Day Huh What?

So I realized, I'm really bad at sticking to a resolution that involves daily activity. And I also start a lot of sentences with 'So'. And 'Anyway.'

So, anyway, here I am to rant about your timing, and the timing of the universe. I was struck with the realization that, a long time ago, after a year of longing, after I had finally moved on, God took notice of my earlier wish, and so set in motion a series of events that were to cause everyone a lot of pain, but would in the end result in the fulfillment of the aforementioned wish.

Here's the story.

Boy meets Girl. Girl likes boy. Boy is dating someone else. Girl wishes she would stand a chance. Boy ignores Girl. Girl starts moving on, finding love in someone else. Boy and girlfriend start fighting. Girl falls for other boy. Boy and girlfriend kind of break up. Girl meets Boy again. Girl is dating someone else. Boy and Girl talk, laugh and fucking fall for each other. boyfriend hurt. girlfriend hurt. Hence Boy and Girl hurt.

God: Whaaat, I gave you what you wanted, didn't I? Kids these days.

True, true. Boy and Girl pick up the pieces. Make a new puzzle. Try to fit the pieces together the best that they can. That's what it's all about, in the end, isn't it? That, and a few chocolate tarts here and there.

But now we have to slowly dissemble the pieces of the puzzle.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

day 10

Thoughts of the day!

1) Haircuts suck.
2) Long car drives have started making me nauseous. Thank you Pune.
3) I miss everything but this place.
4) He did it again! 
5) I really can't stick to a decision.
6) I haven't had many thoughts today.

Oh and good news! I might still have a future!

Friday, July 13, 2012

day 9

In order to not get hurt in life, you must remember that people are expendable. The people who remain in your life deserve to stay there, but the ones you keep fighting to keep... after a point you have to realize that you must let go. There will be more. Maybe that seems like looking into a gloomy void right now. But eventually the void will decrease to a light at the end of a lonesome tunnel. If it doesn't, hey, I'm sure you should go back and call that person. Because maybe you've got some past life karma to work out. Maybe. Bollywood movies have made me think a little fantastically. Fantasyishly? You get the point right?

You know what's annoying though? The person who you've finally decided to let go of, gives a reason for his or her behaviour, and you decide to rethink your decision to let them go. And then they go and do the same thing again. And then again you must steel your heart and be ready to let them go. And again they apologize. And so it continues.

At this point, you must realize that you definitely do have a past life connection. It's almost always with the people we find hardest to detach from.

Children are always fascinating. Without any current life karma. I mean, I'm sure no kid would hold a lifetime grudge if another kid ate his crayons. 

What if there was a child? What if that child was somehow symbolic of something? I don't know yet what it could be symbolic of. A deep connection between two people? Well that's pretty obvious. Is it symbolic of some weird connection? A reason that they will never let go? Is it symbolic of something we are trying to avoid having to face? Why is it, sorry he or she, there? 

What is this strange bond between a mother and a child? What thoughts come into her head about the father? It's really scary to imagine this happening. There's a wall there, stopping any thoughts from being thought. An anvil which squashes any thoughts that might come up.

This is definitely not the time. But I don't know what this connection is, between you and me. But it's there. Even if  I tried to get away from it. Even if tomorrow I decided not to talk to you the entire day. I don't know if I could. The thought of not talking to you an entire day is really scary. 

If I write an auto biography, it would start like this, "Once upon a time, my life was carefree and idyllic. Then one day, I met you." 

Okay so it's not one of the most inspired things I've come up with. Shall keep working on that. In the meantime, if you're reading this, please don't feel bad like you are prone to feeling after things like this. By some insane fucking karmic logic, I still love you. 

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Day 7

Sometimes things fall apart. And then they fall apart some more. You just gotta hold on tight, and hope for the best. 

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Day 6

And here I thought, something that bad couldn't possibly ever happen. No way in hell.

What a difference an extra line makes. 

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Day 3

7th July 2012

Imagine this.

Flashback style.

It's around 8 o'clock. I'm in front of my mirror, with a million clothes strewn across my bed. Can't decide what to wear. Then I think, fuck this it's not like he'll notice anyway. It's just momos and pani puri. Just him and me. Then I look in the mirror again and change into something else. The phone beeps. He's left Camelot, walking now, almost at the gate (didn't I tell him to text when he was leaving his house?!) and come down now. Shit, not even done with eyeliner, no more time to change! Rush rush. I say bye to the roommates, and skedaddle down. Or rather, wait for the painfully slow lift to get to the 5th floor. He's already called again.

"Where are youuu? Come down quick re!"

"Yes, yes just a sec."

I walk out towards the gate, heart beating JUST a little faster, already smiling widely though I try to look casual and all cool and shit. Can't help it man. There he is, standing, talking on the phone to his parents, smoking a cigarette. I smile at him and we start walking towards the momos guy. While on the phone, he notices me walking on the outside. So he grabs my waist, as only he is allowed to do, and pulls me towards the inside so he can walk on the outside. I was almost waiting for this. I like his arms around me. I like walking next to him, as he's talking to his mom.

"Yes ma, don't worry. Yes, I'll get it done, don't worry. Yes tell dad also. Alright ma, love you too good night!" Click.

Always abrupt. We talk and trip each other and punch each other and laugh till we reach the momo guy. I sulk over something he says about my nose or something, and then he sulks when I sulk so I have to stop sulking. While we wait for our momos, he tells me about his "fascinating" game of DoTA and how what's his name did something to someone else and something happened. I nod along, inserting "really? wow!" at the right moments. He rambles on, blissfully unaware of my stupor. It's just that when he talks, he animates things so much that his face tends to light up, especially his eyes. I've noticed his eyes before. They kinda sparkle. Like once they were actually sparkling. I couldn't listen to what he was saying. Like what was happening at this moment. Luckily, we're done with our food, pay up, and head towards home. Screw the pani puri, I'm really tired.

"Biryani from Tastebuds, then?," he asks. Sure, why not. He makes random conversation with the restaurant guy, while I roll my eyes and smile at him when he comes back. "What?!" he says. He knows that look by now. I've given it enough times.

We head back. He holds my hand. I slip it out. He gets offended. Then I hold on tight to his hand, and he tries to free it. "Rape, somebody help! She's raping me!" he yells. After some struggle, I let go. Fine, be that way. So he laughs and reaches for my hand again.

Fastforward to getting a plate and eating the biryani. I'm not really hungry. but he feeds me anyway. It's always so good! While we're watching Naruto, I try to snuggle in and do nice cute things, and he swats me away because I apparently "have to watch this part! It's AWESOME!" It is awesome. But that boy has to straighten out his priorities. After the episode is over, he will ask me three times atleast what I think of the show. Because he thinks I'm not interested. But I am! It is quite nice. Not the best thing since sliced bread, but still. He remains unconvinced.

After a few episodes, I get up to get water, and I find him sprawled on the mattress, already passed out.

"Oye! Wake up and go sleep inside the room. Mugsy? Mugsy!" Gotta yell. If that man passes out, it is beyond my powers to wake him up again.

"Gimme ten. Go, I'll be there in a second."

"Are you sure?"

Grunts something. I go inside.

Half an hour later, I go back and shake him awake. Success! He gets up and goes to the room and immediately passes out. I sigh, try to roll him a little away so I have space, and climb in next to him.

"Good night Mugsy" I lie down, kiss him, turn around and go to sleep. Just as I'm about to fall off the bed, he, still sleeping, puts his arm around me. Bliss.

Now I'm typing this from a very comfy spacious bed, very far away from him. 8,322.9 kilometers to be precise. Sigh.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Day 2

6th July, 2012

Okay, so the writing every day thing didn't happen as planned. Missed a day. Blame the jetlag?

So last night, we had The Talk, Him and I. And last night was the last conversation we had while still together. And we also managed to sort out the mess from the night I left. Which he didn't realize was a mess apparently. This whole decision was very strange. Inspired by a friend of his? Maybe. Hm, anger is rising again. I can't let jealousy consume me again. This is why the break up is supposed to be a good thing, and I'm supposed to be happy about whoever he meets again.

What a task. Anyway, I look forward to when I will see him again. It seems like an impossibly long time away, but it will happen. I don't know where we will be in our lives.

Home, man. Home is awesome. It's just the people outside that are frustrating. If only the people I loved from college and everything were here, where it's beautiful and I have my parents with me. And where people are not so fucking racist. Honestly, can the world not fucking grow up? How can you possibly be racist in the 21st century! Next time, I swear I'm gonna punch that guy in the face.

At least the internet speed is awesome. Also looking forward to meeting the Embassy people here. Haven't interacted with uncles and aunties and little annoying kids in so long! I know I'll regret saying that later, but for now I'm a little nostalgic.

I don't know why anybody would be interesting in reading this.

Anywayyy off to my new chick flick of the day: What's Your Number?


Day 0

Hello, I've decided to become a proper writer and write. Er, yes. So basically it's the end of an era, college is over, my relationship is over, I'm in a new country, and there's not much to do here near the North Pole. Writing becomes the only escape. I'd promised myself that I'd write every day, and I will try to stick to that as much as I can.

Here's something from during commute.

5th July, 2012

Well here I am, finally writing in this diary almost three years after it was given to me. I finally made it on time for my flight to S, which never would have happened after pretty much one of the top ten most fucked up travel experiences ever. Been crying on and off for the whole flight because of the really weird last conversation I had with him before I left. It's kind of my fault for not charging my phone. Hence I couldn't talk to him throughout the whole ordeal. It was horrible, the last conversation. And because of stupid Air India!! Fucking telling me they're overbooked. Fucktards. Anyway, I've decided to write everyday for this grieving period that would mark the expected yet still tragic end of the relationship. And to rant about the missing fucking period. I detect a lot of anger inside me. Nooo, my phone died! AGAIN. Great. Hopefully my parents have faith in my arriving to Stockholm in one piece. Every blonde kid looks like AR, my God. Small gene pool this side of the world.

Funny thing is, when I got off at Vienna, and saw outside the really large windows, all I could think was, "Great, this again." I think I heard some Malayalam in the bathroom just now. Made me feel happy. I miss India. And everyone. I hope I don't sulk away this vacation.

Cheers to plans of swimming! Now when will boarding start??

(Must write about failed hair straightening attempt and airplane journey later.)

Saturday, June 30, 2012


sadness is overwhelming. i really hope that's the PMS finally kicking in. and I hate this city, filled with self righteous, overly dressed women who stare you down as you walk down the ladies compartment of the metro, as if mentally slitting your neck for wearing those shoes with those pants.

You know what I realized. This city has never been good for me. Never. Not with my family, not in school, not the people. Nothing ever seems to make it work. Can immorality really be a city wide endemic? Are they really all out to get me?

Down, Stalin-esque paranoia, down!

There should be a time limit for the amount of time I spend here. Three weeks till insanity wears me down.

You know what I like about blogs? You can be self obsessed and not talk about anything else but yourself, and no one is allowed to have a problem with it.

And right now a little jealousy is getting the best of me.

Down, Snow White's mother, down!

Gasp, I just compared myself to an evil stepmother. Overthinking, brain going into overdrive.

Must get away. To a New Castle.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

An Ode to my Desk

I hate that irrevocable feeling of anxiety when you feel your world slowly spinning out of your control. When after three years of constancy, you don't know what tomorrow will look like.

And when you suddenly realize how much that desk you had with you for two years meant to you, but you realize too late because it's now in the hands of some juniors, who might desecrate it with ash and loud metal music. Oh desk, I'm sorry I wasn't there to bid you goodbye! I know I've dumped a lot of baggage on you, but you've always carried everything, the good and bad, with great storage capacity.You and I had many memories together - I cleaned up the bird shit that I found on you after two months apart, you held my empty liquor bottles right from the very first wine, I kept my best secrets with you, and you took away all my useless papers with so much good will. I'll always treasure the times we spent together.  I know I lost the key to your drawer, but you'll always have a key to my heart. I hope those boys find as much happiness with you as I did.


Sunday, May 6, 2012

like sleepless in seattle.
like naruto.
like plans.
like bets.

Monday, April 23, 2012

The rain always put her in a good mood.

The air was still clean from the rains at dawn, the earth still smelled like fresh mud, the wind cool and undecided, blowing her hair all around her as she stepped out of Mass, walking among people she didn’t know.

She was heading home to her still sleeping husband. Her gaze was turned down on the pavement when she had that inexplicable feeling yet again that there was someone watching her. As she walked past the gate of the church, her eyes, as if with a life of their own, searched for his.

It had been eight years, six months and fifty seven days, and when her heart and mind had given up hope, her eyes continued to search fruitlessly. Amidst the crowds at the market, the families at church, or strangers walking past every day. Searching, hoping, despite the fact that they bade goodbye a lifetime ago in the dim room on the second floor of a rickety make shift hotel. She could still remember the faint smell of sweat and sex in the room, the beard on his face prickling her hand as she stroked it, his vicious bites of affection, the unruly chaos of hair on his head, the smell of smoke in his mouth and the increasing darkness as he cut the cord of their still infantile love.

Eight years, six months, fifty seven days and three hundred letters that were left unsent, still piled up in a shoe box in some deep corner of her cupboard. It took that long for her eyes to set upon what they searched. There he was, in a worn out overcoat, with the same prickly beard she remembered. The lean contours of his body from their days of murky love making had given way to broader, mature features. The glint in his smile was replaced by a thin line on his lips. But his hair was still as unruly.

Her heart beat so loudly she could have sworn he’d heard it. From her mind to her heart to the core of her being, everything ached to hold him again, to feel him around her, on her, inside her, to complete herself in a way that only he knew how to.

Why wasn’t he moving towards her? Why wouldn’t he say anything? Her jubilation was slowly melting into anguish, turning to guilt as he appraised her from head to toe, pausing at the bump of her child yet to be born. Rooted to the spot, she battled between her desire to rush forward into the past or back to her present. Her eyes thirstily took in every ounce of him. His one undone lace, his trousers blowing against his legs in the wind, the rising smoke from his cigarette, his undone collar, the thin thread of his scapular peeking from behind his neck, that beard of his, and what she’d feared most, the stoic expression of his face as he looked straight at her with controlled eyes.

Suddenly eight years seemed like yesterday, and yesterday seemed like an illusion. Suddenly it seemed as if life had given both of them another chance to redeem an ill timed love.

She gasped as she felt pain inside her. Her baby’s first kick. The baby of her and her husband, to whom she had sworn a vow of love and companionship. Their love was not torrid. It was not volatile, or fiery or mad and insane. It did not throw her into the void of absolute ecstasy, or the volcanic pits of rage. It did not give her life through every act of love, nor did it drive her to heights of the tallest mountains, only to let her feel the rush of an entire world pulling her towards her as she fell. It did not bring out the urges she had to expel her passion before it burned her away. No, their love is not a ship riding the highest waves during a storm. Their love is a ship sailing on a lake of placidity. Their love is exemplary in its perfection. No scars mar their relationship. They have their routine of quiet breakfasts behind the newspaper, not of walks in the moonlight. Theirs is a love of sunshine, not torrents of rain. Their love is about giving and receiving. It is about taking a deep breath on top of a mountain and never looking down.

But here she was, led to the precipice once again and reminiscing about the rush of falling to your death.

But she wasn’t ready to look down now. Look again into the fire and face it, not with another life depending on her. Not with another love expecting her. The rains were romantic and dashed, but once the skies cleared she did not want to leave decrepitude in their wake. Immature and fanciful whims of a young girl had no place in the mind of a grown woman, or in the heart of a mother.

For every love that is fulfilled, there must be so many that are not. So many silent sighs, quiet wishes, hushed regrets.

This must be one of them. She gave a faint smile, placated her unborn child, walked past him and never saw the flower he dropped from his hand that could have shaken the very core of the earth to drop her from that mountain and return to his life.

Inspired by Marquez, and life.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Once I had a strange love
a mad sort of insane love
a love so fast and fierce I thought I'd die

yes once I had a strange love
a pure but very pained love
a love that burned like fire through a field

That's a song I've heard many times, but it never made such an impact as it did this afternoon. Guess you have to live something before you can truly relate to it, empathize with it. I do not envy the writer who had to undergo such a painful love before writing poetry such as this. I really and truly don't.

I can feel another chapter in my life closing, and instead of the romcom I thought my life had turned into, it seems more and more like a play by Tennessee Williams or a tragedy by Marquez, and I never saw it coming. Or maybe I did and thought he'd be there by my side no matter what. What illogical thoughts. Yes, he's right. This was never meant to be forever. But somewhere, I thought that was because of circumstance, not by choice. Unfortunately it looks like I've pushed someone so close to the edge, that finally he's decided to jump off the deep end himself. I can't feel bad for being in circumstances that I knew I'd eventually fall into sooner or later. 

Yes, I'm insecure, and I have been for quite a while. It's not something that goes away, because it's embedded really deeply in my side of this relationship. And no matter how much I want you, it's just so difficult to uproot certain things from my mind. I know, I know all the things you've said about how stupid my insecurity is. Believe me, I try to fight it. But I don't like it if other people treat you as if you belong to them. I don't like it when I sometimes remember some of the things you've told me, which have broken my heart. And every time I remember them, they break my heart all over again.

It's not something that can go away so quickly. It's something that would take ages to fix. Time we don't have. And why would you want to waste the remaining few weeks here with someone who is bound to act psychotic? I don't trust in myself to make any promises about changing the way I am. 

The things that were said to me yesterday, they'll stick with me for a while. They were like little rocks, or needles right into my eyes. Not really pretty. And I'm wondering how much of it is true, and it is that process of wonderment that is making me hesitant  currently. 

Right now, I want you to be happy. And I know there are enough and more people who can do that. I feel useless knowing that I can't. What we have, or had, was (is?) really really amazing. It's something I'll cherish because I'd grown to love someone more than what I thought were my limits. I've realized so many things in this relationship, and I'll treasure so many happy memories once I leave this place. It's just that I feel like you're done with this, and that scares me more than anything. If that is your choice, then that is your choice and I can't stop you because I would hate to force or guilt you into staying with me, because then, you're doing it out of guilt, not love.                                                      

Monday, March 12, 2012

Ah, the misery of waking up in the morning with the realization that you are, in fact, a horrible person.

There's something to be said about having belief in oneself. I can't remember what that something is right now due to my severe altercation in self perception, but I remember from the fond memories of yester year (or yesterday actually) that this belief gives you the strength to voice opinions, to be yourself and to make everyday decisions. Now that you don't even know who you are, how can you know how you like your eggs?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm dead inside. I mean, there is a mechanism in there that has probably broken down and shut me off from all happy emotions. Nah, that sounds too melodramatic.

Maybe it's something else. I've never had this sort of intimacy with anyone before. Someone on whom I rely on so much. I don't even rely on my parents this much. Instead of being one of my closest friends, he's become the center of my world. And that's really really bad. I think it's destroying both of us. It needs to change.

I can't begin to say how sorry I am for unleashing this on you. I knew it would come out eventually, but I never realized it would be so bad. But it has to stop now, I promise. Not for you, but for me. It's taking me away from who I am.

I want to be the old me again.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

how many times can a fuck up fuck before a fuck up does get fucked?
a fuck up would fuck up as much as he could so the fuck up will eventually get fucked.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

So now I know that in a competition between me and ice cream, the ice cream would win.

In other news, there once was a thoughtful, pensive, brooding, and generally introverted coral. Who had a tenacity for stalking oysters. But sadly she couldn't.

Because she was a piece of rock stuck to the reef.