Ok. I and a bunch of friends got kicked out because we were late for a lecture (but no we actually went on a detour from canteen through the grounds in to the basement =D) not kicked out.. we didn’t go in after we saw the self study class filled with my crazy theetha batch with girls and guys nodding at us treacherously “Undr mut ana!” (Don’t come in!)
So I came to the computer lab. After this I have a PBL class (problem based learning). Then I go back hostel. Grab my bags, call a cab, run down the bus station get my tickets, jump into the bus and back home. It’ll take five hours, blah
Jee. I am so sad..
I mean. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t feel like making all the crappy jokes I am known for. I don’t wanna go out and have fun. My hand is still blue from the hike. 3 hours of hiking with my worn out shoes and walking all the way back because the first years got lost or what… It was fun! It was so.. damn.. fun. Rain, hail, twisting roads, mountains, the great Mosque, the greenery, the pine corner, the stones… The cup full of ice gola the great expensive restaurant the band the crowd the clamour…Allah.
But then the three weeks of papers
And then I am exhausted
It feels strange. Why am I writing over here? I can just simply fill a page of my journal. I can quietly fade away. Sometimes it feels as if I am one of those goody good side roles in movies. People who are very good but they die before the movie finishes and are barely remembered after the end titles. I don’t wanna have that role. I have my own story. Or rather I want to have my own story, rather than being a part of so many anecdotes. Sigh. Or I’d rather be Mysterious Mr. Quin. But no.. I have a tendency to give people chances to find me. Once, twice.. thrice
Oh never mind. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be
You can’t break what’s already broken..