Mental Intermission

I think its interesting how alot of the people who visit my blog deduce that I'm a chronically depressed personality. Perhaps clarification before i get another comment like carl's? My blog is for my inner demons, for the insecurities i hold within. it's my little outlet where i let the intensity out before something inside me explodes... but that explosion isnt always one of grief. Although it is, more often than not. The last time I had an intellectual orgasm was quite a few semesters ago... I long to experience that more regularly but unfortunately either time or circumstances or my own pathetic laziness always seem to get in the way.

Yayy... I'm mister Coordiantor now... the big guy. In the forefront of the hypocracy that pervades most institutions in my beloved country. So what does that make me? A product of the system? A victim of the system? But than again, one must first conquer the system before it can be changed. Conquest is close, but by no means complete. And, just like in the story of king Arthur, maintaining peace is more difficult than conquest.

Excalibur

Within

It hurts inside, it really does.

Everything seems to be inconsequential and at the moment, lethargy is my best friend. She has no right to seem potentially perfect for me. Nor does she have any rioght to haunt my every waking hour. Nor does she have any right to be object of all my dreams.

I hate her, and everyone tells me that i'm too good for her.

But why does my chest ache whenever i think about her? Why are there always goosebumps on my skin when i touch her broken anklet? Or smile to myself when fingering the fragments of hwer broken hair clip?

God damn it.. it hurts so much... and the worst part is... that last, small flicker of hope simply will not die.

I hate her. But i hate myself even more.

Changes

'I dont care a damn about how Ali feels about me or anything I do'

Subtle, no?

And there everything goes... just like that. All the affection in the world cant turn a rock to a rose, I guess. But it felt so damnably close.

It's funny, that alot of the time I have a list of things that I could , that I should, write in my blog, but when it's time to write, thew words just seem to disappear.

Except these.

Woh meri jaan thi

That girl was my life.

And life's a bitch.