It’s just the strangest thing… I’ve seen your face somewhere

looking around in a crowd

I honestly thought I was done with blogging.
I mean…really.

I’ve got your friends on one side, then you’ve got your studies and you’ve got your little dramas and you’ve got a relationship and you’re losing weight and you don’t care about social media, you don’t have that need to connect with any more people than you do and you don’t have the inclination to be your old melancholic self’s all tied up in a neat little bow. You have no big inspiration, you have no new thoughts to share..what little you feel you jot it down somewhere. It’s all very ‘Dear Diary..’ you are uninfluenced, unfettered, well-adjusted and happy in your favourite way. Perfect Imperfection. I could kiss karma if I found the bitch.

But then March comes


Aye to my thoughts

Sitting and looking

Giving up writing is like giving up breathing. And there are times when you don’t want to breathe at all. But you can’t just stop breathing if you want to.. and I can’t stop writing even if that one remote part of me might ever want to. Even if there is no one to read out there (I doubt that though =D)

It’s beautiful. That light in the heart. That tiny bubble of hope that is all yellow…That keeps you company in the loneliest of hours, keeps you going in the darkest of times. I feel that. I feel that tentative glow and I feel the smile coming on to my lips without forcing it for the sake of others. And the genuine laughter so afraid..what if the next moment I do something and this bubble of happiness bursts.. plunging me back into the venom that compels me to shun everyone who dares come closer. I don’t know. Bathed in this light my heart feels like a tiny fluttering sparrow.

But you know’s just the tricks of time. Up and down and down and up.. I have been down for a while.. A little up won’t hurt…

See ya =)

fluttering heart

I just can’t control my head anymore

gone mad

I can’t stop it. My mind is on fire. It won’t stop writing, it won’t stop stringing all the word together and making a passage, a story out of every place I step into. Watch a movie, read a book, hum a song, my brain won’t stop. It just won’t stop

If writer’s block was like constipation.. honey I just got diarrhea

And I have this place in my building where I go when I just have no place to turn to and hide and the wind is always warm there.. I went there, played doodle jump on my cell for nearly two hours, and when I fell down after the one big high score and the sun flashed into my eyes, my brain began again. And I nearly lost it

Because.. you know what!! Some thoughts are not supposed to be thought, some feelings are not out there to be felt and there are some things one is not always ready to confess and confront. There are things to just be left aside and buried in both heart and mind but my body is so receptive to energies these days that I made fifty characters in my head and drowned ten of them and strangled another five. Three had a happy ending and rest of the stories are faaar from the finishing point

I gotta flush my brain for a while. I have stopped talking sense altogether



Gone mad

One of those things.. you know

tree There’s that moment when you feel that thing creeping up at the back of your mind, at the surface of your heart and the tip of your tongue. That urge that beautiful flow of words you know you can write down. You have been staring at blank pages and empty screen for days. Nothing to write nothing to type yet the mind and heart are full with stories and emotions. But it just doesn’t flow. The time ain’t right. The feeling isn’t exact

You sit there, in your empty room, that lone wolf you always were. Talking only in jokes and laughter. Why? Because you don’t know how to talk. And the friends you once had..don’t feel right anymore. The only channel you had was through writing but that is blocked by some strange barrier. Is is too much happiness? Is it too much sadness? Is it that pain in the arm that has been killing you for three days and nearly made you break down in class? Is it because talking suddenly has become the hardest thing in the world..?

So you look at your computer, sighing because the old companion has got old and is getting chipped off in places. An guilty feeling in the heart that it might just be time to let it go. You shut it down, lock you room, go into some other room, try relaxing with a bunch of friends, with that odd feeling that is bugging you deep down.You hang out for a while but then the jokes run out, the energy runs out, it’s too late in the night already and then there’s college tomorrow. You walk back the corridors, up the stairs. Unlock your room and get into bed. Shutting your eyes or opening them does’t matter much, it’s too dark to make out the walls

It’s just, sometimes, everything in the world seems so, far away. Was it you who were walking slowly or were it others who sped off? You know, sometimes it just gets harder to breathe.. writing