Or not.

Gah.

I’d like to think that I’m a good, even an above average person. But I’m not.I think about what I want and what I don’t want. I don’t know the difference between the good, the bad and the ugly. About what I am, what I aspire to be; but obviously the world a big, big place and what I want or want to want is entirely insignificant. So now it all crawls down to this fact of life. Why were we born in the first place? We’re a part of a country, a planet, the milky way to a gigantic something incomprehensible.
So we’re basically nothing.
Tiny fragments of eternity.
But as I pondered on the futility of my existence one night on the phone with Meher at 3 am, I was hit by a flash of lightning. Maybe the big guy up there just said… Lemme just get these whiny little buggers down to my paradise to liven things up a bit, and possibly even give the earth a best before date.
Maybe, we are here to destroy earth.
Pawns to the king up there.
And we’re doing a damn good job.

While I discussed my implausible prospect of college, to my well endowed birds…I figured that half of us are scared to death about the future.
Then I thought you know, if people like Nishkaam don’t get into college who will?
Bani has a clear vision. She’s going to do Bio-technology and make tomato potato (potamo) hybrids.
What would I do? Pollute a little more, take up more air…and probably more space at the rate at which I’m going.
Then again, what would Thomas Edison have done, if there was no darkness.

I still cant get over “Catcher in the Rye”.A book written by a eccentric man in the early fifties. Makes tad more sense more than the “Chicken soup” stuff.

“I’m sort of glad they’ve got the atomic bomb invented. If there’s ever another war, I’m going to sit right the hell on top of it. I’ll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will” . Holden and I have a hell of a lot in common.

Maybe all I want to do is procrastinate and catch people falling off cliffs.

My eco book tells me to ‘assume’ the consumer is rational. There is a clause of non-satiety. Apparently the homo sapein sapein is always wanting more.This greed not only towards the materialistic goodies but for happiness and ultimate bliss. Its funny because when you reach that stage, some stage of almost self actualisation, it seems like there could be something lusher, fresher.
Im not being emo. But there has to be some ultimate high to cure this insatiable hunt. And if it means wearing black, and being ‘trapped in a lonely ungrateful world’ in skinny jeans then im game.

My stomachs making peculiar noises, my heads pulsating beads of sweat. My hair feels greasy, my face flaky…My nose just twitched, my toes just clicked, the “dreary desert sand of dead habit” just hit.

Every time, you walked by, I wanted to… It’s inexplicable, the urge almost blinding. About my age, tall. Wasn’t good looking; cute maybe in a weird sort of way. Five years ago, I would have looked and laughed. Now I wasn’t so sure.

It would have been pretty easy to walk away, but my feet were stuck in the whirlwind of hot slush. Some idiot once told me I had issues with maintaining relationships. I think it’s more about how I tried too hard, to keep my dignity or be your bitch.

Engineering a move, to stop…stare. Retreat into a little ashamed, embarrassed bubble. Running away; my forte. Carving a little world, through these tiny words, throwing a flowerpot made perfect sense. Logic isn’t always beautiful.

The pathos of it all, I was still the fake cherry of your chocolate truffle. Not that I mind, I’ve got enough pineapple to keep me going.
But I winced for that second. Don’t worry your pathetic lie’s still safe. For now.

The lure was strapping, my mind racing. And just when I needed someone to kick, scream and shout…I was alone. A little patience, a little more.

Creeping closer, finger like diamonds. Your invasion, my shame.

Force.
Why is it that in retrospect I want to wait and watch instead of close my eyes and jump. But, reminiscing about it makes me squirm…I’m not sure in pain or pleasure. So when it comes to this, its crystal. I wanted you to feel, to sense, to wonder…me.

You cut me up inside, measured little pieces. Mocking every gesture, hot and cold.

I should have torn your eyes out.
But how the hell would you look at yourself in the morning?

Dawn was a picture. Stars all decked up, like you and I. A pocketful of sunshine was all I wanted, I got cancer. A sweet escape, while I weathered a storm.

Contempt, disdain, crude anger! And it wasn’t even PMS.

It wasn’t funny, then either.

Home isn’t home, I’m not me anymore. Your winds of change didn’t just sweep me of my feet; I think I fell flat on my face.

I stand tall now, you can’t even crawl. If only you were dead.

Oh wait you are now.

Smokey cool.
Precariously wedged between.
A step away.
Your Queen.

Soapy dreams.
Sex and screams.
Wait, wander.
Stop.

Choke.