You rip my soul apart, and sew it back again one
stitch
at
a
time.

I complain about painfully slow deaths and equally torturous "bringing-back-to-life"s. You kiss the tears away with a lying smile.

And we fall, again again again. All over again.

Backtrace all the squares i conquered, to number one. Only one.

The cycle doesn't stop, never did, never will.
And we will continue our sadistic love affair forever, until there is no you, or no me. Whichever comes first.

Why do I believe, when you reassure?
Why do you confide, when I keep not your secrets?
Why do we love and hate in equal measures?

The cup is halfemptyfullemptyfull.....empty..

It goes on.And on.And on.

I realised that my blog does not have anything about issues affecting things out of my own ife.

does it make me self obsessed, ignorant, or just plain detached?

I wonder sometimes what I would have done if I didn't have my words. I suppose I'd suffer a mental asphyxiation of sorts. But maybe that would happen if i lost my words, and it has happened to me, i came dangerously close.

What would i have done, if I never had them in the first place?

What would you do, without your words?

An example of how messed up my bestfriend and I are:


19th march, school.

Me: Give me your iPod!
A.S: YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!
Me: What's there in that bag? a dildo?
Bestie: Why are you pointing a long straight object at me A?
Me: It IS a dildo, isn't it?
A.S: NO, YOU BITCH, ITS A STRAIGHTENER!
Bestie: HAHAHAAHAH. SHE EVEN CALLS IT STRAIGHTENER. HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Me: *falls down laughing*

Today:

Bestie: so... dude.. it's really weird.. i think i'll have a long talk with him...
Me: long? how long?
Bestie: HAHAHAHAHA. straighten things out?
Me: Yes, you best give it to him straight, i tell you.


Sigh.
=\

Salt and Saffron...

I want to curl up in bed with my earphones plugged in tight, with a cup of tea, listen to Coldplay and read Salt and Saffron because i absolutely adore that book...

I want to feel utopic, because I haven't lost touch with reality in ages, and I fear that if i stray away from my dreams too long, I will lose them and not be the person I am.

And that, to put it very blatantly, would suck.

I want to avoid my O levels. I don't want to jinx my life now..

=)

Golden ticket

And then it strikes you, that either you got it wrong the first time, or it actually isn't a once in a lifetime phenomena=)

Can i be Charlie, and will you be my Golden Ticket? We'll live in our Chocolate Factory World and Roald Dahl tales and be happy in our bubbles of joy created in those moments of sugar highs and subsequent lows, and laughcrylaugh at our silliness.


I think someone/thing stole my funnies, and I do not appreciate that, because I've always prided myself on the fact that I have the ability to amuse people. Kindly return it, who/whatever you are. I feel lost without my funniness=(

OhNoesss!

Haha, three posts in one day on a blog that no one reads?

I am too good. *pats self on back*

Last days of school. Seriously, it's still hard to believe that my 6 years of single sex catholic school education have passed, and I survived. Harder to believe that the first waves of nostalgia are beginning to hit me. Very soon, i have a feeling, that they will be washing over me, and might even be streaming out of my eyes. Gay much? But I won't be the only one....

Yes, even though I've whined and bitched about this place so much, it's still a kind of second home. Sigh. Cheesy.

What is making me write this, I feel like i must explain. Hitler.

Not quite in the way you think, before you start thinking of him as a closet sentimentalist (if that's even a word) cross-dressing fag. No, not like that at all. We watched the movie today, in school, Pakistani dvd and all having fucked up sound and worse subtitles seemingly written by chinese midgets with a very poor hold on the English language. Added to the fun, although it was supposed to be "educational", it turned out to be more of a joke than anything else.

And then,while literally rolling on the floor laughing, it hit me, that i would miss the silliness of this place, and these idiots who are my classmates/friends/confidantes, intentionally or unintentionally, and how we know so much about each other without ever meaning to, or talking to each other one on one.

Our stupid fits of laughter, class jokes, politics, lameness, sticking up for each other,larka problems, -isms. (now it sounds like a speech. shit maaaan.)

Empathy.

Everything.

6th grade was then, and now we're done with grade 11. Almost, with a couple of days to go.

What the fucking hell is wrong with me?=\

Colour

Are you envious
of me thinking in Blue
Seeing in Green
Living in Pink and
Breathing in Red?

Are you envious?
When I have so much colour,
Too much colour
Exploding in my head
Like catherine wheels
And fire dragons.

And are you envious?
That it surrounds me
And bursts around me,
While you are caught in
greys and browns and blacks and whites
The aching dulls,
Against all my brights.

What should I say to you,
When you begrudge me my splashes.
I do not want them,
These constant explosions rocking
My core and such
Violence,
Not a happy place, no.

Trade with me, and give me
Your dreary two toned world
And take my fantasy onto yourself.
Feel it in the crevices
of your numb being,
As it courses through you
Bursting bubbles of life in your veins.

And then feel the pain
I have known all along when
I drown in the blues and bleed in the reds.

Know then, why I envied you,
Your dreary thoughts and
Monochrome mind.

Fireflies and Nightlights.

Fireflies
And streetlamps
Flickering.
On. And off. In a
Foggy haze on cold winter nights
As water ripples gently with
Short
Bursts of a breeze.

See in distorted reflections
Images of
What-You-Are-Inside.

Pictures on a sheet of black water
Lit
By the moon shining
With
Blurry lights in the dream
Where you stand.

Cigarette in hand.

Wonder, Wonder.
Fire in the water and
The fog lit by clarity of
Shining lights.

This place in your mind,
The harbour in your thoughts.

Not quite real.

But not a figment,
of your
Restless imaginings.

Thank you Abdul, for the lovely picture. Now you can go ahead and say I'm a pretentious bitch. <3=p

Little rainbow fairies on freshly washed grass. Bright green.

Rather obscene.

There are pictures in my head, very disconnected. It's rather like being an addict. Without knowledge of the addiction.

But who's complaining? It's a fairly happy state of mind, with pixies and rainbows and spring-morning-dew and flowers and the bright green grass that shocks my senses into happiness.

Plastic happiness, senseless happiness. Lovely, pretty lies.

Oh such mirth.

Excuse the inanity. I think I'm happy.

=)