Chapter 8

Burning, like fire.
Rage, altogether hot and cold.
Disappointment, suffocating and stifling.
Hurt, painful like the edge of a sword.
Tears, bitter as a penny.
Regret, cold and thriving.
Happiness, distant and futile.
Hate, ever-present and all-consuming.
 

She never thinks before she writes.

I guess I can't write anymore. I'm not sure. You know how I used to before. Where words were incensed and had some meaning. It's like everything is garbage. Nothing makes sense. Is there a purpose for anything? Yes, perhaps. But perhaps not. What a weird being to be. Are we human? Really? Ah, I'm not making any real sense, am I? Um, I guess the whole point of this rant is absurd. Because I never knew anything. And I wonder if I ever will? The thought's one to contemplate, and sure as the hellions of hell, scary. I'm sad. I hope this isn't a depression. I'll always be this girl. Shy, weird, lonely, different. 

Her: You forgot moody. Moodddeeee. You're very weird, also.
Me: Perfect, thanks.

Facebook is Dumb

Everyone likes to say things. Say smart things. Be noticed. Recognised. Appreciated. Well, I think you're dumb. You're stupid. My writing sucks.

Goodnight bros.

Conversations with the Brain

Her: I'm a girl of many talents.

Me: Oh really. And what are you doing about it?

Her: Well, nothing mostly. But I'm happy. I'm blogging regularly too.

Me: Blogging? That's your big move after being a proper writer and editor?!

Her: Um. Yeah! Why?

Me: Tons of reasons.

Her: Don't be a killjoy. You know that I like my space and time, doing my own thing. Having nobody to report to.

Me: Yeah, but sometimes it's what you need. Besides, do you even have a source of income?

Her: Not really. But I'll get to that when it bothers me.

Me: You mean when you have no more money for your little shopping escapades? Sure. (Snickers)

Her: You're just being a mean dick.

Me: No. Realistic.

Her: Why are you like this? At least, my life is completely stress-free at the moment. I think I might actually be self-actualised, at this point.

Me: Keep dreaming. I'm not saying anything, do what you want.

Her: Okay.

Me: Okay.

OK

You're not okay. You're upset but you won't say why. You're hurt but you won't even cry. You felt this way before but you let it slide. You're waiting for something... Someone. A song. You can't ask for help. You're stuck in between time. You're here. But actually you were left behind. You ask the air around you a thousand questions. You never wait long enough. You're moving at the speed of light. You kissed your heart goodbye. You're cold inside. Cold out. You're alone and yet somehow, you think you don't even mind.

Happy Hormones

It's funny... whenever I'm travelling, I can think of a million different things but even as I've begun to write this post, I feel absolutely blank.

I've been observing the man at the Juhu signal for a while now. You know, the guy holding up the positive quotes on a board. It totally warms my heart. Whenever I've looked out of the rickshaw to catch a glimpse (when speeding by), he always sees me. And smiles! You just feel so good.

He's there every morning, holding up that placard tirelessly in the hot sun and you can't help but forget all that you (probably) were obsessing about in your head. Greater good.

It's important to stay happy and be in love with everything you do. That's what counts! Nothing else, y'all.

Makes Me Ill

Stupid fever, stupid cold
Go away, and die with the mold.
I hate your taste, I hate your face
You're so stupid, you make me grimace.

My appetite has gone
And my face is forlorn.
I can't work
I hate you, you mother-fucking jerk.

Rot in hell!
I won't be cursed under your spell.
Fuck you, fuck you
I think I'm gonna be sick (boo-hoo).

Dear Lizzy

Lizzy, Lizzy,
Why are you back?
I thought you had gone
But you're back to attack!

Please leave Lizzy
You creep me out so
Go play with your friends
Not with me, please, oh no!

I'm sorry we aren't friends
And we never will be
Just go on, leave, Lizzy
and set me free.