Thursday, July 5


There was a time when I thought it was a really good idea to

Express myself without restraint through my art, because the feeling was new and fresh and exhilarating and hey, judgement was for losers.

Talk about what was 'real ' and dismiss anything that seemed layered with artificiality, little knowing that I would become layered myself, what with college and life and electricity bills and movingtimespaces, and it would be less like an iced tower cake and more like protection from the wind and rainfall.
Read depressing poetry about death and longing and loss and write a lot of it myself in dog-eared books and this very public journal. It was insanely intense, and now intense is just a funny word.

Believe in love akin to instantaneous  rasna powder drinks, which would make themselves without any effort on my part. A list  or recipe was key to such a belief, and   any deviation from the list meant that it was
The phrase 'not meant to be' was what we call the universe today,when we express thanks.

Dislike a god, or denote a capital G. Hate crimes, moral police and fattening temple coffers are still my reasons, but Ive discovered Neil Gaiman years ago and once you fall in love with his gods, well, here's a speech to start YOU off.

Listen when someone called me fat,
Chat with strangers online,
Never change myself,
Classify myself according to my 12th standard abnormal psychology book,
Study my family's genetic history,
Relive the past like a stuck tape,
Call sappy moments and cliches uncool,
Judge someone based on their city,
Pretend I wasn't from my own city,
Play blame games like some people play SIMS,
Think cats  are the bestest animals in the world (They are, but dogs have crept their way in somehow),
and thereby
Define the very existence of emo-ness.

Instead I'm  happy and searching for more happiness and can cook for myself and buy overpriced things if I fall in love with them hard enough,
and  use the colour yellow with aplomb,
and have embraced my love for clothing without worrying about my image,
and  can laugh at myself loudly and  appreciate design and know even LESS about the future than I did 8 years ago, 
which feels great. Though I have already planned my dream home right down its wooden bookcases and flooring samples and wide, wide windows.

Actually I think I'm pretty damned cool. Not compared to you, of course. Just my old idealistic and introverted self, the one I don't miss anymore than week-old laundry.

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