Today was a Fairytale.

It had been really long since she ever felt that way. Rather she had never felt that way. She had never felt so close to someone. So close that being closer beyond that seemed like an unfathomable expression. She'd always thought that fairytales never existed but well that was her way of dealing with rejection.
And then there was today. This was her unexpected, unorthodox fairytale.
It was like as if not he, but his fingers knew what she wanted to feel.
As if that strong impulse which had led them here was being the north star, guiding them to unconventional and unheard of emotions.
It was right there. This complex net of emotions. It was uncomplicating everything. It was leading them to each other's face even in the absence of light.
She didn't speak. It had numbed her. It seemed surreal.
He couldn't have been the same guy who just told her that he couldn't do without her ever.
He couldn't have been in her arms, she said to her shocked mind, he couldn't have been the same guy she had irrevocably been in love with for so long.
But he was.
And that was all that mattered.

Remember me?

I was aimlessly looking at people entering the train. Forming opinions. Judging people on their appearance, the volume at which they talk over their phones, little nitty-gritties about their appearances.
It's fun. And its what most women are amazing at.
That's when I saw her.
She had a troubled look on her face. But that hair.
I wouldn't ever forget that mop of curly hair.
Despite it having been more than 8 years since I had last seen her face.
I go back to 4th grade.
The time when I last saw all of them.
Ofcourse it's her.

I can't be wrong.
(That's what my brain thinks.)
Nevertheless, I ponder over wether it's sensible, the idea of approaching her. I mean we weren't really close as friends.
I remember what my reaction was the last time I saw one of them. I was plain confused about how had my bestfriend from 2nd grade grown up into this beer guzzling, tattooed machine.
(No offence to that prototype.)
I'm still trying to gather the courage.
It's now or never.
Only heavens know when I will meet one of them again.
So I finally get up.
Just that when I look up from my phone, she isn't there.
And Goregaon just went by. She might have gotten off. It strikes me how all of them stayed in Goregaon.
Ofcourse it was her, Rexy. :)

Jumbled.

(Originally was published in July 2012, some stupid glitch in the application has forced me to republish it.) 

It's an uncanny resemblance in all my blog posts that I start with "so, well" initially and later get tweaked to god knows what.
I'm actually jumbled.
This stems from my disorder of thinking excessively.
I create things.
Half of the stuff, of which's occurrence I'm scared about, isn't even there in the first place.
My mind is like a machine, creating fictional situations, all of which aren't exactly possible. But let's face facts, I'm probably a masochist. I mean I keep hurting myself, thinking of the most awful outcomes possible.
And something in my head, tries to  pretend like all of that is happening for real. The end result - Me in a miserable state of mind.
Ah well screw that.

My father ran with me today when I almost missed my bus to school. Avoiding puddles and sprinting way ahead of me, he looked like he might have been blood-related to Usain Bolt.

I felt sorry for myself thinking of my awkward sprint which kept transforming into a jog and then a walk and back to the sprint randomly. Maybe I've taken after the plump side of my family and not after him.
The fact that this statement might be a fact made me curse my genes. :P

When I was sprinting/jogging/walking I called out to him asking him to stop running and walk because I was the one who had to catch the bus. He responded with something which sounds filmy but made me smile for the rest of the day "I'll run to the edge of the world with you"!
Thank you Papa. :)
Even though our relationship threatens to seem like a disaster at times, I'll always love you more than mom. :P

Messy.

So I am sitting on my window, staring at pigeons and marvelling at their love for nooks and crannies, when I feel a tear on my cheek. I don't even know how I started crying. All I know is once I did, it didn't stop.

Since the last couple of days, I've become an awful lot crankier, ready to snap at people for no reason at all. I have started to analyse every little thing about every person (significant or insignificant doesn't matter). I can't look past certain things. Weird details; somethings which don't even matter, have enveloped me and my thinking capacity.
Just now, I snapped at someone, AGAIN.
I can see a fault in me.
I know how to rectify it, exhume it. But I can't.
And I suppose that's how life works?

I can't trust, The one person that I really need to. It isn't exactly about "trust you with my secrets" trust; Not even "I have doubts over you" trust. It's something more complex. It's something like I don't trust someone to be there. I don't trust a person to actually hold me when I need that. I don't trust a person to stay.
Yes that's all that my problem is.

And well, I know this piece might be a real rag but I had to write. I had to write to solve out the tangled ball of yarn that my brain has been processing over the last month.

Feels better.

My amusement park =)

Amusement park.
It's your birthday!
I don't know how on earth did I start getting so dependant on you.
Last year, same time, I used to hit on you because I found your eyes pretty. (And also because of my drummer theory.)

I still find them pretty though. Pretty like a girl.
Hahaha.
So who's amusement park?
He's just this guy, I gradually got close to. He is creepy, but he is funny too. Although I don't like the jokes he makes on me, at the end of the day, the are actually funny. Like hilarious.

He is the only person who gets away with those jokes, which by the way are made round-the-clock.

The first initial times that I spoke to him, I thought he was some really shy, 'my habitat is a cave' sort of a person.
But honestly, almost 6 months later, I can certifiably say he isn't that at all.
"Amusement park" because he is fun.
And ofcourse, he is the ONLY person with evidence about my previous embarrassing blog. (Incase you're reading this, DO NOT ever upload that picture.)

And yeah why this post?
Well because he is the only person who over-exerts his mind as much as I do. And because he is the 'fastest' best friend I made.
(Ps only I consider him that. Not the other way round. :P)
Hmm I want this to be a crisp post, so, I hope you never let go of your 'next level' sense of humour, get all that you wish for, grow up and stay the same.
Happy Birthday Douche. :)

Repair Centre

A week into hostel life & I feel like there is a tenant in this personality.
A loner is hiding somewhere behind that excessively jolly visage.
I look at that face and something pierces me.
Something invisible & something painful.
That person is fake. Trying so hard to be THAT someone that they aren't.
Trying so hard so push life into dead situations.
Trying even harder to smile her way through things which she knows will not work.
It's like she has been given an appliance that won't work and she tries her best to hit that machine, throw it around make it work. But it won't.
It is like every situation in her life is like that appliance, refusing to work out.
I try to run a finger over that face. It feels cold. It is my face.

So I lament. Cry. Scream. Do all that I can to make it work.
Spend almost all my day in that exasperated situation.

But then I start writing.
My mind clears up.
"The clouds burst forth & it began raining".
That rain soothed the roughened edges of my mind.
Quenched that pained, thirsty side with an answer.
I had tried everything but this-

I put in new batteries into the appliance.

Look at me now.

There comes a point in everyone's life when you don't have options.
When you have to deal with a situation at hand in the only way that you wouldn't want to. When you learn accepting. Accepting things, circumstances that in no way appeal to you.
That make you question your point of existence.
You eventually have to learn dealing with things. Learn how the tough get going when the going gets tough.
And you won't learn unless you experience that once. It can be learnt only the hard way.
You'll learn how to rapell only once you do it. The theory about it won't take you anywhere.

The reason having provoked this side to come out is living in a hostel.
No one makes my bed.
No body picks up things from the floor which I keep chucking here & there.
No body clears the mess that I make of the table.
No body tells me wether a grey pair of jeans goes in sync with a black t-shirt.

All that dependence has just disappeared. Gone away to some distant far off place.

It's a total paradoxical feeling where I wish I could lean upon someone allover again & another part which is glad that I'm finally dealing with life on my own.
And for now I'm off to find entertainment, on my own.