I tend to become self-destructive when I think love thoughts.

But what is the point in dreaming of someone, if they don't know about it? Essentially, dreams are not real; so like all things unreal, aren't they limitless? Aren't they powerful and magical? When you dream about someone, shouldn't something notify them about it? Hah, you know why facebook's so popular, right - it's the notifications! And bless us all, we have those too. Inbuilt; they call it the conscience talking.

hahahahahahahahahaha.

I lost track of the number of posts I've published.

FUNNY GIFS!!!!!

Funnygifsfunnygifsfunnygifs.

Mean Girls.

Cute animals.

Cutest elephant EVER!!!

Do you think swearing gives one a false sense of aggression and control over the situation that is slipping away from one's grasp?
I thought about that the other day.
It might be true.

Anyway.

Oh, you haven't?
Fuck you, then.

The Fuck You dance.

I have been doing crazy things. Crazy, crazy things. Maybe that's why that pimple is sprouting up on my cheek. I never, ever get pimples. But now this.

Do we have any girls here tonight? Girls like this one?

We do?
Then this is for you.

And I also think we should all say a big Hellooooooooooouuuuuu.. to this guy:

I feel a little better now.

I still feel horrible though.
E-mail me if you want to know why.
E-mail me only if you like really long e-mails.
E-mail me if you're willing to let me whine.
E-mail me if you want a picture of my nails.
They're purple now.

Can you give me ideas of what to do with my life?
It feels like an empty shell right now.
Maybe that's why I cry like a bitch when I see someone talented perform their guts out, anywhere.
Maybe that's why I like watching people on TV realising their dreams and again, cry like a bitch.
Maybe I need a life.
Could you help me with that?
Passion.
Passionpassionpassionpassionpassionpassionpassionpassionpassionpassion.
It seems like the more I want to work towards it, the harder I hold on to the darkness.

But tell me, how would you feel?
How would you feel if, you know that those passionate people, they were within reaching distance of you? How would you feel when you constantly cannot help but think that those people on stage, they could be you?
How would you feel if people within inches of you were having the time of their lives?

Fuck me, I'm sad.

Do you know that I carry out conversations in my head?
I do.
I have no one to actually talk to, so when I feel like talking, I imagine the person/s I would like to talk to right then, and talk to them in my head. In my head, they like listening to me, and also give out that vibe. In my head they're smiling and laughing at what I have to say. In my head, they're looking at me, and not looking away.

It was just really hard to see all of them having such an awesome time. An awesome time that could have also been mine, if I had - I don't want to say this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - made a different choice.

But mostly nobody has time to think. Nobody has time to think. Not any more.

Boombadoomboom boombadoomboom.

Lady Gaga makes a really hot man. You and I is my new favourite love song.

We got a whole lot of money, but still pay rent, 'Cause you can't buy a house in Heaven

Best line EVER.

Wow. I respect this.

I miss my friends. I think about them all the time.
It's like I physically cannot talk for large intervals without slap-sticking some lameass joke. And my friends got that so I could be myself around them. NOONEGETSITNOW. I mean, my poker face is kind of one of the best in the world but seriously, what do you think I am? What do you think I am like? Would I really say that and mean it? God. It's all so confusing.  Dry humour is amazing. Get it.

I want to talk lots but I have no one to talk to. And I don't want to listen to the ones who talk to me, because they clearly don't want me but just want to talk. And don't tell me it's in my head because I can TELL. Ok? I'm fairly invisible, people don't take much notice of me, I can sit right in the middle of everythng and go unnoticed; so you'll be surprised what I find out.

(Edit: All my love and the world's. Look at this. What the heck. It's like I'm frozen in time.)

Yeah, I was thinking about that too. I need to look and see most of the time. That quiz with the choices, do you remember that one? "Would you rather be deaf or blind?" I think I'd rather be deaf. I need to see, because seeing is knowing.

Yes, my god, seeing is knowing.

Sleep deprived.

I'm sittin' here alone up in my room

And thinkin' 'bout the times that we've been through

oh my love

I'm singing for our first years' culturals at college! The second and third years conduct it for us, and we have themes and colours and icons and so much going on right now. I get to bunk college officially to practice and stuff. I'm in the Math department cuz I'm doing B.Sc.Math (no, really) and we're all competing department-wise and the Math department is considered - how to say this delicately - shit. Seriously, apparently our seniors got boo-ed at and mocked at on the corridors for days after their own freshers' culturals. So no pressure or anything on us, but ALL of our teachers've spoken to us about how "This time we need to bring up the Maths department's name" and we're kind of. Well I'm kind of. I'm having FUN, of course, it's Britney Spears for heck's sake.

Tryin' my best to understand

I really wanna know what we did wrong

with a love that felt so strong

 Exams are coming up. Maybe I could just drop out. And feed my cows everyday. My dad'll pay me for it, he's chill like that. And then I could steal a little of the hay I'm supposed to be feeding the cows and use it to build a tiny cottage for myself, like the first pig from the Three Little Pigs. And then wait for a sexy big bad wolf to come and blow my cottage away, so to speak.

If only you were here tonight

I know that we could make it right

Really, the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems - why shouldn't I write a novel? Novelty is something that's always interesting to me. And almost always, things that I find interesting tend to inadvertently break my heart.

Did you see what I did there? From novel to novelty to heartbreak? You don't get it?

I crack myself up

I crack myself open

I crack and crack

and hack and hack

make this cough go away

make the pain evaporate

I don't want to feel

phlegm and sick inside me.

Love.

Seriously. I don't get it.

I've spent most of my life thus far thinking I'm some special shit. Major superiority complex. Don't ask me why, or on what account. I just used to think that I was THE thing. It's kind of hard to explain but this is the best I can do.

And then, I started growing up, and saw myself clearly, or whatever, and the way I see myself now, it's.. different. WAY different from what I thought I was. For which I thank God, because the way I used to see myself, well, let's just call it the blockbuster of Shrija-rules-the-universe land. I was a movie that was a blockbuster, is what I mean.

But there're people that see me for what I am really, and they tend to see the good bits, and kind of focus on them.

So much so that I start believing in them.

And I am so, so grateful for them.

There is honestly no better gift or blessing than realising that some one, some one,  sees you. You. And, having given up on ever being seen by anybody a long while back, it rocks my world to the core when someone tells me what they think about me; and when what they think is too glorious to ever possibly make any sense, but is secretly, deep down, reflected in my very soul. And in that moment I realise that I am not alone, and never again will be, for this realisation has warmed some part of me, and that part is never ever going to get frozen again. And in this way does my heart thaw, and in this way do you melt it all. I thank you, I thank you, I thank you from the tips of my toes (they just tingled! :O) till the depths of my eyes, that shine brighter now that I know.

~

This and this.

You can imagine how big a loser I felt like when I realised, right after I blogged like a little cry baby about no one wishing me on my birthday, that these two losers did what they did. Seriously you guys, can you tone down the adoration a little? It's kind of getting hot in here.

And the rest of you. Don't listen to them. I paid them to say all of that. None of it is in any way true. The things they said.. my God. I'd marry them right now if they were here. I don't think any boy will love me the way they do right now. I'm not even kidding. And, being in a girls' college and everything - I mean women's, women's college; we're all women here - I can tell you; you can depend upon it, really, that girls do not just say nice things about other girls unless they want something from them. Or are being two-faced. But these two, I have nothing to give them, and they're as two-faced as Nemo. So if you think about it, they probably DO mean all that they're saying.

Seriously. I don't get it.

All I know is this. We're awesome. We're so awesome, that:

That is all.

So yesterday

I watched Something Borrowed and No Strings Attached last night.

*********

I also stumbled across this video


I URGE you to watch it. You will not regret it.

*********

1. The photographers at the inauguration.

2. Someone else I cannot remember but I'm sure there was someone.

3. Ashton Kutcher in No Strings Attached.

*********

You guys didn't wish me for my birthday. What's up with that? 

I still haven't bought my birthday-present books.

My parents and my grandparents gave me money, asking me to buy books for myself because they know that's what will make me happy ^^

Only, I haven't been able to go to the shop I like. I don't want to go alone but I'm kind of the only one who'd enjoy the whole shindig so I guess I'll have to go alone. Or I'll ask my friends to go away and leave me there and we could all get back together after I'm done buying them. 

It's not like I'm going to spend ALL the money on books anyway. Probably a third. I don't know. Maybe all of it.

Whore. Funny. Fool.

And then,
Fat. Beautiful. But. Broken.


Aaaahhhhhhahahahahahahhahaha!

Babies. And kittens. And puppies.

When I hear someone say something for that first time, that I particularly like or feel I relate to, I tend to believe that it was them that said. That's how much I believe in words. But now I realised that most words are borrowed.

It doesn't necessarily mean that they don't mean the same. 

But not all words are true.

Being true is. something.

And it certainly doesn't happen always.
Even if one were to try.

See?

My eyes are not light but opaque and dark brown

for in them do all my secrets drown

and make a wonderful hazy veil - 

my faithful shield, never to fail.

My hair is densely filled with air

and a million of my other airs and cares

It's long, it's true, but shapeless too

and strands sometimes fall out of queue.

My eyebrows though, are quite stellar!

Dark unidentical caterpillars 

that dance erratically across my forehead

- though, they hurt a lot when being threaded.

~

Her eyes are like warm pools of honey

and her thoughts are almost runny

for they flow out of her eyes like phlegm

and I catch each and every one of them.

Her hair falls heavy and without a care

and trails away from her here and there.

A dark haven for burning hands

I am home amongst these strands.

Her eyebrows though, I cannot love

they never seem to rise above

the level at which they always rest;

to make them move will be my eternal quest.

Silence.

AWESOME things have been happening. And I want to blab about it at high speed to somebody but I can't seem to find the right person at the right time. I know, ungrateful or what.

So maybe I will blab it all to my blog? And make a proper effort to be a proper human being person?

Ok.

(umm not because I want to tell you all about it or whatever, because

but because I have this article review that I'm supposed to be doing that I want to ignore currently so I'm choosing to do this instead.)

Yeah, so I tend to overthink. Get over it.

Shit is fucking going down.

I have established beyond all possible and reasonable doubt that I am a mean soulless coward with an empty shell for a heart. Well, something nearabouts to that, anyway. Details, details.

*

My birthday is coming up. And I want to be knocked out of my mismatched socks. I am not even kidding. I want something amazingmagicalfantasticmindblowing to happen; and you know why? Because I fucking want it. And I fucking deserve it. For fucking being alive, and being myfuckingself. So sit the fuck up and take notes:

1. I like reading. Few things give me the warm fuzzy feeling that my mind feels when I'm reading a particularly exceptional book. Fewer things can compare to the self-assured happiness that fills me to my core when I find myself appreciating the nuance-filled and graceful wording of an exceptionally good story. I love words, and finding them, and hoarding them and setting them off at the right time. I love words more than any of my worldly possessions. I love words than I ever could love any worldly possessions that I may ever own.

But what does this mean to you? It means that whatever gift you're planning to give me, it's kind of not going to be as awesome as the words you can churn out from the deep viscous trenches of your stomach (or heart, or whatever) that, slimy as they may seem, automatically become awesome because they're a part of you that you're giving to me. I'm just saying.

2. I love cake. And Pepsi.

3. I fucking LOVE surprises.

So do what you fucking can because I demand something awesome. For myself. All for me. Right now. Ok?

I DEMAND IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The hard part would be to figure out what exactly I term to be "something awesome". But if you have been paying attention it's really the easiest thing. Really.

I show not your face but your heart's desire.

Have you ever done this? I love looking at the mirror. I'm that much of a sexy beast to look at, I mean.  

This is how I look in the mirror.

Do you think so? I don't know. I'm undecided on this.  

Sigh. Fuck this.

PUPPIES PUPPIES PUPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!

Who sits around and makes these things?

 Do you remember these???????? I can't remember what they're called! I used to LOVE PLAYING WITH THIS WHEN I WAS LITTLE!!!!!!

This kid.

I love pretty ornate gates.

And I love the sky, even though it makes me feel super claustrophobic sometimes.

I love nice funny rom-com-like-but-not-too-brainless-at-the-same-time-hilarious-with-a-huge-big-chick-flick-like-ending-kind-of-movies.

This is totally true. Believe the pie.

I saw Harry Potter. It was very "This is the end it's now time to go back home" like. Which is not necessarily bad; I for one LOVED all of it. Even though there were a few GLARINGLY OBVIOUS GAFFES which I cannot tell you about because obviously you might want to watch it yourselves. But imgfave.com already has gifs from the movie. About which I'd like to say what is UP with that? Although I can tell you ONE thing.

Ah, Photoshop.

I now find Severus Snape attractive. Alan Rickman is a beauty. If only he were twenty years younger.

And also Roald Dahl. I bet he was a babe. In fact, I know he was; have you read Boy: Tales of Childhood?
If you fall in love with the author because of his words, does that mean you love him, or what he's written?
But then again, is not he the words? For was it not him that made them all up?

Oh dear.
Ok, I'll be leaving now.

 Oh yeah, college started. But not officially, only on Wednesday. So far, so good.

Millions of hearts
with millions of prayers
Where do they all go?


My blood turns cold.
But it runs again.
What about theirs?


The terror spreads like a forest fire
but where is the deluge that will put it all out?


If only the tears we cry
could be accumulated
joined together
fused
united
and become a roaring tide
to douse out once and for all
the fiery inferno.

I listen to piano music on Youtube and stare at imgfave.com these days and it makes me think like this.

I want to visit every beach in the world and take pictures.
Whenever I see a big cut out of some model guy outside clothes shops and stuff I want to fling my arms around it and pose all sexily for photographs!
I want to meet those kind of people that've made new and amazing things while still sticking to their roots. Like, there's generations of people that have been doing something but they've been doing it differently than others and they've given it their own new twist. There are people like that, aren't they? Creative and inspired people! Maybe in some Greek island. Or some Italian village. I want to visit Italy and Greece!
I want a piano and I want to play it beautifully. And a violin. And maybe a flute too.
I want to grow plants and tend for them and stuff. Pretty plants.
I want to write and write and write and I want to read and read and read.
I want to dance and dance and dance and hug and hug and hug.
I want to laugh crazily and do crazy things with my girls. I MISS MY GIRLSSSS D: D:
I want to teach. I want to know something awesomely enough so I can teach it to little kids. And look at their faces when they get it. 
I want to learn. I want to meet someone who's awesome at something and learn something from them.
I want to lie on the ground and stare at the sky. That's pretty amazing too.
BASICALLY I DO NOT WANT TO BE PRODUCTIVE IN THE QUANTITATIVE SENSE OR WHATEVER.
Right? Isn't that what all of this tells you?
Ugh. But it's so much fun.

But I know the difference between myself and my reflection.

Once you've realised that nobody ever hears anybody, it's so agonisingly easy to just stop hearing yourself, yourself. In a world that babbles constantly, it's hard for everybody to be heard, I suppose it is irrational to think that everybody should hear all that I say. Or don't say. But you know what the sad part is? Some people do.

I used to be among that lot. The ones who used to hear what I said. But now, I don't know. It's so easy to just block out my mind that sometimes, I miss it, I guess. I miss reacting to everything like how I want to, as opposed to how I am supposed to. Soon I forget what I'd be like in the first place. But so what; I try, just like everyone else, to be perfect, don't I? So what if that perfection isn't necessarily me. Right?

Wrong. I want to be me. I want to be the best me that I possibly can. ANY me is perfect, for myself. Shouldn't that be perfect for the world? It should. It will. When I'm brave enough to do it. If I'm brave enough to do it.

But we all know that's not going to happen any time soon.

This is a little hard for me to talk about.

Do you think I'm unappreciative? I try to be nice to everybody, you know. I never, ever want to intentionally hurt anybody. ANYBODY. But there's a WHOLE LOT OF DIFFERENCE between being nice and trying to be that way. Isn't there? I don't know.

I've been told that I hurt people unintentionally. And lately, ever since I learnt about this, I've been hyper-aware of what I say/do, and I noticed that all those people that said that I unintentionally hurt people, they're RIGHT. It's like, I kind of read people's faces more than their words, you know. So for me it takes a sec to understand what's really being said. Because usually the eyes are more interesting to read. And they say something and I respond to what I think their eyes/mind is saying, or whatever, I just RESPOND, ok, it's what people are supposed to DO in a conversation, and I guess my dialogue is always quite on the offensive side, as opposed to defence. Or maybe both sides. And then immediately I see this fraction of a shift in their features, and I know I've said something wrong. Even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. On the contrary I was probably trying to be NICE; instead, my logic may have been too skewed for them to understand. Or maybe I wasn't being nice in actuality. Bottom line, I'm a nuisance to society. I should just go and move to Iceland. But I'd really REALLY hate that. I love my life. I love the people in my life. I wouldn't want any other, even though I may delude myself daily about how I'd like to live a different glamorous life each day. But that's also crap. I could never live a different glamorous life! Because I'm not that person! I'm not even A person. Sometimes I walk around, living my life and I don't feel real. I suppose when one is doing things one must feel connected to oneself and realize that one is actually performing said actions and is not just an amused bystander? Well, I hardly do. I live my life in autopilot. And I know no other way to live it. So I fantasize about jumping off cliffs into deep dark icy water because I know that if I really did do that I'd probably not feel real anyway. Things seem more real in my mind, oddly, than when I actually do them.

I don't know. I hate just drawing random conclusions about myself. I'm not all that easy to analyse, I tell myself. But I know that really I just want a simple, succinct and perfectly normal explanation for the way I am.

Hah. That sounded SO emo.

So I loved all your comments about my handbag. I totally am going to add all your suggestions, too, you guys are so practical! In fact, my aunt got me a new handbag from the US, so I guess I need to kit it out any day now.

Oh and I find eating pomegranates sexy because of the seeds. It takes quite a little dexterity to extract just the seeds and pop it into your mouth without splattering the pink juice all over yourself and when I manage to get it right, that very dexterity makes me feel sexy. Does that make sense? It doesn't. Lol. It's just a FRUIT. God. Don't you just love me?

I'll tell you what's sexy? Eating pomegranates. And the fact that I typed that out right just now. I don't think I've ever written that word ever. When I was little I used to pride myself over the fact that I could just glance at a word and remember its spelling just like that.

*

This is pretty sexy too. It's tootoo sexy, man.

*

I haven't called my college asking when it starts. I didn't even think I should do that, I just figured they'd let us know or something. Major heads-up I need, college is not school. Real life, here I come hurtling at you!

*

*

Secrets are sexy too. I CAN keep secrets, you know. It's only secrets about other people that I cannot keep. But I'm getting good at that, too. I'm turning into a very different kind of me.

  

*

Far too weak to stand in your arms without falling to your feet. But I set fire to the rain. 

*

I once wrote a poem about fire and water. On my palm. I love writing on myself. When there's no paper around and I really need to write something and I just fish out a pen from some bag and scribble all over myself. That's nice.

*

I think all bags should have a pen. A ball point pen. Let's make a list.

List of Things A Perfect Bag Should Carry At All Times

1. A pomegranate.
2. A blue ball-point pen. Or a black one. But mainly blue. Maybe two pens?
3. Money, I guess. Like, in dollars or pounds. Because I don't have any use for it that way. Just for appearances' sake. 
4. A wide-toothed comb and a scrunchy.
5. Wet wipes.
6. A hair clip. No two, a crocodile one and a click-y one.
7. A tiny book. My tiny red diary! 
8. Some ID? I don't have any ID cards. Never have. If I had a library card or something this is where it'd be.
9. A paper-back chick-lit!
10. An mp3.

That should do it, I think. In a big black faux-leather bag that's pouffy and soft with velvet lining and three compartments! That looks great.

*

OH MY GOD! I JUST GOOGLED IT!

THAT IS THE MOST PERFECT BAG IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE.

$324. Wow. Girl's got expensive tastes.

*

Most of my friends are going to be here for college too! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY BESTIES!!!!!!

*

Well it burned while I cried cuz I heard it screaming out your name.

EARGASMS. ♥♥

I was thinking 'bout her, thinkin' 'bout me 

Thinkin' 'bout us, what we gon' be

WHAT A SONG. WHY HAVE I NOT HEARD THIS BEFORE. I WANNA SHAKE MY THANG NOW. LIKE ALL CLASSY-LIKE. IF YOU EVER LOVE SOMEBODY PUTCHO HANDS UP.

Hello hello. Baby you called? I can't hear a thing!
Don't call my name, don't call my name.
I'm just a holy fool, oh baby he's so cruel.

Blah blah blah. Etc etc.

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?p=PL04F2202E20FDCAB7

Oh, Eva.

"The whole strange concept of a Christian marriage with its oaths, its unreasonable expectation that one man and one woman can find in each other all that the human heart desires, had found an echo in his ardent and romantic soul. When Isobel betrayed him, he put away these thoughts— and the kindness of Madeleine de la Tour had been for him a bridge to another and equally ancient tradition: that of woman as an amused and amusing source of pleasure."

- "A Company of Swans', Eva Ibbotson

All the shit in my life recently, and I escape to watch a movie, and this is what I find



The Proposal is a FUCKING amazing movie.