unginat tukre karke
musafiro mein baat diya
dil ka kamra kamra humne
khaali karke rakh diya
aasoo aaso sametke usmein
ek samundar ban gaya
leher leher andhi aayi
us mein khud hi dub gaya
apne dil ki kissi kone mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
duniya bahaar bahaar reh gayi
khud dil ke andhar kho gaya
tere liye jo khaali kiya tha
tere gum mein bhar diya
apni dil ki kissi kono mein
apne gum mein dub gaya
to be continued
today was one of those days when i just could not concentrate on anything. sometimes it just pokes me in the eye and paralyses me all day. i keep messing up at work. i couldnt write a post. i couldnt do my homework. i havent paused all day, but i havent completed a single task succesfully. i locked my unix pwd again. the generate was messed up. got a wrong cr #. its like falling into water when you cant swim - you know what you are supposed to do but you cant make ur arms and legs do it.
this is not what i wanted. this is so not what i wanted. i know that it could have been worse. i know that atleast i have a decent thing to do. money in my pocket. my own money. no need to beg. no need for charity. i actually help support people now ... but this is not what i wanted.
when we read pressman in college - i used to crib ... who the hll uses all this rubbish ... well now i know. i cant crib. i made my choices. but it sucks. i it. i didnt spend 4 yrs for this. i hate it. i hate it all
its true that its not death that kills you, its life. one day at a time. every dream is weighed against the price youre willing to pay for it and shatters to the ground falling from the scales. there were too many dreams. life gives you anything you ask for. life gives you everything you ask for. you can have anything you want. but you will have to take it. no changing your mind. and you have to pay for it. so if you get the specs wrong - ur done.
i try this exercise now. i try to close my eyes and think about what i want - what i really want. and its so hard. and sometimes things clear up. the way i have carved things out its hard. its painful. its very very lonely. but better honest clean solitude than crowded hypocrisy.
do you ever feel like spring cleaning your life and chucking out everything, everyone. i have done it, at a level. i am doing it now. why should i hold their hand while they blot out me and everything i blv in. why do i scale down, hold back, temper every colour down, so noone is uncomfortable, hurt, made to feel awkward. they just turn around and call me a names afterwards.
i like to be alone. because id rather be alone than with anyone i know of. i like to keep quiet bcz though the words burn up inside me, i cant find a way to say them, so that you may understand. so i hold it in my hands a while and then put it back inside
sometimes i things that drive my crazy. i feel pain that numbs everything else. i feel joy that makes the whole w
this is not what i wanted. this is so not what i wanted. i know that it could have been worse. i know that atleast i have a decent thing to do. money in my pocket. my own money. no need to beg. no need for charity. i actually help support people now ... but this is not what i wanted.
when we read pressman in college - i used to crib ... who the hll uses all this rubbish ... well now i know. i cant crib. i made my choices. but it sucks. i it. i didnt spend 4 yrs for this. i hate it. i hate it all
its true that its not death that kills you, its life. one day at a time. every dream is weighed against the price youre willing to pay for it and shatters to the ground falling from the scales. there were too many dreams. life gives you anything you ask for. life gives you everything you ask for. you can have anything you want. but you will have to take it. no changing your mind. and you have to pay for it. so if you get the specs wrong - ur done.
i try this exercise now. i try to close my eyes and think about what i want - what i really want. and its so hard. and sometimes things clear up. the way i have carved things out its hard. its painful. its very very lonely. but better honest clean solitude than crowded hypocrisy.
do you ever feel like spring cleaning your life and chucking out everything, everyone. i have done it, at a level. i am doing it now. why should i hold their hand while they blot out me and everything i blv in. why do i scale down, hold back, temper every colour down, so noone is uncomfortable, hurt, made to feel awkward. they just turn around and call me a names afterwards.
i like to be alone. because id rather be alone than with anyone i know of. i like to keep quiet bcz though the words burn up inside me, i cant find a way to say them, so that you may understand. so i hold it in my hands a while and then put it back inside
sometimes i things that drive my crazy. i feel pain that numbs everything else. i feel joy that makes the whole w
going to california - messed up
Spent my days with men unkind, Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.
Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To California with an aching in my heart.
Someone told me there's a man out there with love in his heart, spinning dreams in the air
Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let them tell you that they're all the same.
The sea was red and the sky was grey, wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.
The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake
as the children of the sun began to awake.
Seems that the wrath of the Gods
Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow;
I think I might be sinking.
Throw me a line if I reach it in time
I'll meet you up there where the path
Runs straight and high.
To find a king without kingdom or a queen,
They say he plays the guitar and cries and sings
Rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn
Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born.
Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams,
Telling himself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.
random thoughts
life kills you, not death. and it takes it times
my greatest joys, my most beautiful shadows, tallest pride, crippling shame, paralysing bitterness ... comes from my loneliness
sometimes i feel so alone ... sometimes i feel like if, if only, I had a friend. just one perfect friend. like one perfect rose. someone i can always talk to. in all my life theres never been anyone i could talk to. someone i can trust. in all my life theres never been anyone i could trust.
i dont know anything. love. life. where we are going what we are doing why we are sitting here wasting time. and everything else seems so pointless without that
Some days, the friendlessness pokes you behind your eyes every now and then like those funny headaches that you get when you are dehydrated ... elusive, but ever present. playing hide and seek. it stares you in the face stark, shining, unbending:
you are alone. totally alone. there is noone. there can be noone. ever. anywhere. you will always be alone. and you have no clue. why you are here. what the goals are. where you are headed. what you are supposed to do.
Then someone breaks into your thoughts with a friendly attempt at conversation ... and you stifle a curse bcz your chain of thought is broken and you realise that maybe all men are not social animals. people who are self-centred, self absorbed, lost in the abyss of introspection ... and yet polite ... cowardly, are better of on their own
the blog is killing my pink pages
theres nothing i hate more than to be disturbed when i am thinking.
my greatest joys, my most beautiful shadows, tallest pride, crippling shame, paralysing bitterness ... comes from my loneliness
sometimes i feel so alone ... sometimes i feel like if, if only, I had a friend. just one perfect friend. like one perfect rose. someone i can always talk to. in all my life theres never been anyone i could talk to. someone i can trust. in all my life theres never been anyone i could trust.
i dont know anything. love. life. where we are going what we are doing why we are sitting here wasting time. and everything else seems so pointless without that
Some days, the friendlessness pokes you behind your eyes every now and then like those funny headaches that you get when you are dehydrated ... elusive, but ever present. playing hide and seek. it stares you in the face stark, shining, unbending:
you are alone. totally alone. there is noone. there can be noone. ever. anywhere. you will always be alone. and you have no clue. why you are here. what the goals are. where you are headed. what you are supposed to do.
Then someone breaks into your thoughts with a friendly attempt at conversation ... and you stifle a curse bcz your chain of thought is broken and you realise that maybe all men are not social animals. people who are self-centred, self absorbed, lost in the abyss of introspection ... and yet polite ... cowardly, are better of on their own
the blog is killing my pink pages
theres nothing i hate more than to be disturbed when i am thinking.
whats love gotto do, gotto do with it
You must understand
Though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I read it some place
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
I've been taking on a new direction
And I have to say
I've been thinking 'bout my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love, but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
everywhere there are men and women, there will be attraction. sparks will fly, temperature will rise. heartbeats accelerate everynow and then. dreams will get crowded with phantom guests. the problems, the confusions and then the pain ... comes because we confuse each attraction, for love. the attraction is like a fertile ground, where you could plant a seed and hope it grows into the tree of love. but it is not love. even if you did plant the seed, you would still have to water it for a while to make it grow. even then it would depend on that particular plant (seed / sapling / root / tree), on the environment, on the random whims of a stray cow which may wander by and take a bite at the whole baby plant, a single bolt of lightning, or a casual wood men may cut down the full grown, matured tree ... there would be all these chances and more, between the readiness of the soil and the full grown tree.
everywhere there are people there will be likes and dislikes. affections. disagreements. trust. betrayal. friendship. confidences. shame. pride. ego clashes. shared humour. bitterness. making fun of someone. the square pegs. the round pegs. the grid. the quiet joy of finding another person a bit like you. the excitement of finding someone you can relate to. the awe of admiring someone, someone more like who you want to be. the gentleness of feeling protective of someone you are fond of. someone more like who you think you might have once been. the betrayal, the loneliniess, the disillusionments come when we confuse each affection found, for friendship.
i sent an olive branch. i turned my head away in anger, but i could not walk away. not because of what he is, but maybe bcz of what he means to me. he means to me, freedom - from every judgement i accepted. he means to me, unconditional love. he means to me, the ideal of friendship, personified. he means to me trust, bcz he is the only one who has never hurt me. he means to me absolvement, bcz he solves every confession. he means to me a bank, bcz he is the only one i say everything to. he means to me, security, bcz I know i will never stop loving him. nothing will ever matter between us. nothing will ever change us. nothing will come in between us. bcz i can always turn to him in need. always. he means to me, every friend I have ever had, every one i have ever loved, every dream i have ever dreamed
i saw 'pinjar'. after all the expectations i had had, it was ok. the same old cliche of ram and ravaan? i always thought felt on ravan side. but this time i felt different. was it just bcz they had switched to that side? well that maybe so. cant help it if im intrinsically antimob? vajpayee (is it something about the name that everyone who bears it becomes the coolest??? ;0)) is brilliant, as always. he is just too good. urmila is weird. i almost found myself wishing they had put someone else in her place. the rest of the actors were all good. the theme was the great and very well handled, i think. and in the background, the same wounds they will never take their sticks out of. i wish i could conjure some magic and undo it. put it all back together. sometimes i feel like it was all mine, and i want it back. whole and sound and healthy
i made someone cry. it disturbed me so much that i fell asleep as soon as i got home. ok im kidding. it feels good doesnt it that someone cares. even if its fleeting. if such a small thing could make her cry for me, then what would she do if she heard about my whole life?
i slept 8.5 hours yesterday! its been ages! usually i sleep 4 to 5 hours. from 12 to 5 am. but last week was so exquisitely tiring that i guess yesterday it was just too much. today we have a farewell dinner for a collg (i cant spell that) who is leaving. its been 4 days since I ate something nice, something cooked, something with gravy. im going mad thinking about it
Though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react
That it's only the thrill
Of boy meeting girl
Opposites attract
It's physical
Only logical
You must try to ignore
That it means more than that
It may seem to you
That I'm acting confused
When you're close to me
If I tend to look dazed
I read it some place
I've got cause to be
There's a name for it
There's a phrase fits
But whatever the reason
You do it for me
I've been taking on a new direction
And I have to say
I've been thinking 'bout my own protection
It scares me to feel this way
What's love got to do, got to do with it
What's love, but a sweet old fashioned notion
What's love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken
everywhere there are men and women, there will be attraction. sparks will fly, temperature will rise. heartbeats accelerate everynow and then. dreams will get crowded with phantom guests. the problems, the confusions and then the pain ... comes because we confuse each attraction, for love. the attraction is like a fertile ground, where you could plant a seed and hope it grows into the tree of love. but it is not love. even if you did plant the seed, you would still have to water it for a while to make it grow. even then it would depend on that particular plant (seed / sapling / root / tree), on the environment, on the random whims of a stray cow which may wander by and take a bite at the whole baby plant, a single bolt of lightning, or a casual wood men may cut down the full grown, matured tree ... there would be all these chances and more, between the readiness of the soil and the full grown tree.
everywhere there are people there will be likes and dislikes. affections. disagreements. trust. betrayal. friendship. confidences. shame. pride. ego clashes. shared humour. bitterness. making fun of someone. the square pegs. the round pegs. the grid. the quiet joy of finding another person a bit like you. the excitement of finding someone you can relate to. the awe of admiring someone, someone more like who you want to be. the gentleness of feeling protective of someone you are fond of. someone more like who you think you might have once been. the betrayal, the loneliniess, the disillusionments come when we confuse each affection found, for friendship.
i sent an olive branch. i turned my head away in anger, but i could not walk away. not because of what he is, but maybe bcz of what he means to me. he means to me, freedom - from every judgement i accepted. he means to me, unconditional love. he means to me, the ideal of friendship, personified. he means to me trust, bcz he is the only one who has never hurt me. he means to me absolvement, bcz he solves every confession. he means to me a bank, bcz he is the only one i say everything to. he means to me, security, bcz I know i will never stop loving him. nothing will ever matter between us. nothing will ever change us. nothing will come in between us. bcz i can always turn to him in need. always. he means to me, every friend I have ever had, every one i have ever loved, every dream i have ever dreamed
i saw 'pinjar'. after all the expectations i had had, it was ok. the same old cliche of ram and ravaan? i always thought felt on ravan side. but this time i felt different. was it just bcz they had switched to that side? well that maybe so. cant help it if im intrinsically antimob? vajpayee (is it something about the name that everyone who bears it becomes the coolest??? ;0)) is brilliant, as always. he is just too good. urmila is weird. i almost found myself wishing they had put someone else in her place. the rest of the actors were all good. the theme was the great and very well handled, i think. and in the background, the same wounds they will never take their sticks out of. i wish i could conjure some magic and undo it. put it all back together. sometimes i feel like it was all mine, and i want it back. whole and sound and healthy
i made someone cry. it disturbed me so much that i fell asleep as soon as i got home. ok im kidding. it feels good doesnt it that someone cares. even if its fleeting. if such a small thing could make her cry for me, then what would she do if she heard about my whole life?
i slept 8.5 hours yesterday! its been ages! usually i sleep 4 to 5 hours. from 12 to 5 am. but last week was so exquisitely tiring that i guess yesterday it was just too much. today we have a farewell dinner for a collg (i cant spell that) who is leaving. its been 4 days since I ate something nice, something cooked, something with gravy. im going mad thinking about it
Banjar
jo zameen sukhe banjar par jaaye
to akela tinka sawaan ki hariyaali ho
to akela tinka sawaan ki hariyaali ho
jo dharti sehra ban jaaye
har ek bund pura sawaan ho
jo jeevan samshaan ban jaaye
har aahat gunje shor
jo man itna khaali par jaaye
har ishaara ek rishta ban jaaye
jo din itne akele ho jaaye
ek kiran bhi mehmaan ho
to be continued
when the written word is almost your only (non ephemereal) passion, thats the easiest analogy that comes to mind. As a natural fallout of being an incurable book reader / buyer / collector / keeper (in the mark twain sense), before long you find yourself owning an unmanagably large colume of books. Which is a double edged problem.
like () said, you never know how real the character in a book are, till you have lived in one urself. i have lived in books probably more years than in the outised world, since when i learnt to read my first (). when you read a lot or love what you read very much, for a long time, after a while the boundaries between the real world and your world of fiction dims and fades and then glimmers in the distance. Not just while you are reading but at all times. Thus might I wake one morning with a vague uneasiness of missing someone close and worry at it like a itch you cant reach to scratch, till it suddenly dawns upon me ... its pip & beth, or for some weird reason ... mini's dad, or jane, or wyanan, or mole (mole, i often miss)
1 - cant find the one u want 2 read
2 - cant keep / carry
3 not worth
have to part with
library // casual friends // come and go
read forget - keep always - keep at home
glad of having read but will never read again
will never buy but will read again and again
will buy but never read
love to talk about - will never discuss // dominiques statue
like () said, you never know how real the character in a book are, till you have lived in one urself. i have lived in books probably more years than in the outised world, since when i learnt to read my first (). when you read a lot or love what you read very much, for a long time, after a while the boundaries between the real world and your world of fiction dims and fades and then glimmers in the distance. Not just while you are reading but at all times. Thus might I wake one morning with a vague uneasiness of missing someone close and worry at it like a itch you cant reach to scratch, till it suddenly dawns upon me ... its pip & beth, or for some weird reason ... mini's dad, or jane, or wyanan, or mole (mole, i often miss)
1 - cant find the one u want 2 read
2 - cant keep / carry
3 not worth
have to part with
library // casual friends // come and go
read forget - keep always - keep at home
glad of having read but will never read again
will never buy but will read again and again
will buy but never read
love to talk about - will never discuss // dominiques statue
Beyond
behind the rainbow
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good, who want to make it big
to soar into
theres a forest
black as the night, thick as sleep
behind the rainbow theres a forest
for souls that seek the rainbows end
to get lost in
inside the sun theres a fire
hot as the final home
deep as lethe
inside the sun theres a fire
for those souls
who seek the light to be forever burnt in
above the clouds
theres a field of ice
as cold as mercy
as colourless as virtue
above the clouds theres a field of ice
for those souls
who want to be good, who want to make it big
to soar into
Wintering
Wintering is shattering and desperate, because there can be no happy ending. Plath ultimately becomes the “Sylvia Suicide Doll” of daughter Frieda Hughes’ adult poetry, and the ghostly recipient of Ted Hughes’ tortured and bitter Birthday Letters. Wintering broke my heart and it will break yours, too.
On February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath sealed her two young children, Frieda and Nicholas, in their nursery and placed rags and towels in the cracks of the door and again in the cracks of the kitchen door downstairs. With her children crying upstairs, Plath gassed herself in the kitchen, just days after completing a first draft of the poem, ‘Wintering’ and after months of estrangement from her husband, the future Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes.
On February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath sealed her two young children, Frieda and Nicholas, in their nursery and placed rags and towels in the cracks of the door and again in the cracks of the kitchen door downstairs. With her children crying upstairs, Plath gassed herself in the kitchen, just days after completing a first draft of the poem, ‘Wintering’ and after months of estrangement from her husband, the future Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes.
dirt on ur mind
sunsets are so beautiful bcz the air is so polluted. the water we drink tastes so good bcz of the impurities it contains. life is interesting bcz of the troubles we face.
if we keep our house and our lives and our minds so clean and ordered ... we mights as well be machines
theres a u2 and a scorpions concert coming up. but i probably wont be able to see it. damn.
if we keep our house and our lives and our minds so clean and ordered ... we mights as well be machines
theres a u2 and a scorpions concert coming up. but i probably wont be able to see it. damn.
run out of words
suddenly, i have NO clue as to what i should write. i mean, as per my earlier resolution, i onbviously cant write what i am actually thinking, so now whatever I start to write feels artificial. stilted. forced.
like meeting someone you almost became close friends with and then discovered was a weirdo and had to stick to making PC with from then on. next time you meet them, its the awkwardest thing ... to rewind a relationship. i guess thats why they say that about friends and lovers and transitions between the stages!
and ive always hated making polite conversation. trying to guess what you want to talk about and spinning meaningless leaping majestic yarn about it for hours at and end. actually i must be pretty good at it cz im never caught out. most people think - atleast in the beginning - that i am exactly like them. its the mirror effect. and the ultimate smokescreen at times
lets see ...
a four weeks back my gran fell ill. i prayed like i'd never done before. then i fell ill. chicken pox. 3 weeks at home. totally solitary. i didnt see a soul. just read and watched tv all day long and survived on boiled vegetables once a day. what was scary was that for the most part, i enjoyed the solitude.
last week i joined work. since then its been a whirlwind of playing catch (up) with no pause to think. the ultimate opiate. get up at 5. get to the gym by 6. get to the desk by 9. work. class. rowing 3'ce a week. home work. movies to watch. books to read. money to worry about ... and in the middle of all that, my father arrived on thursday. he was visiting me for 2 days on his way back from germany. i dont think i have ever spent so long with him at a stretch and alone. it was sometimes profound, sometimes crazy. and sometimes nerve wracking. i saw him off on sunday and came back to the empty rooms. i didnt feel ... period. i was kind of numb. watched girl with a pearl earring and another movie. then my mom called. she asked 'baba chole gechhe?' i said 'haan ma'. she said 'mon kharap?' ... what a dumb question! well it broke the dam anyway and it took a while for the torrents to stop. i couldnt stop crying all of sunday and monday ... but by tuesday i was back to cool. last night i had class. we talked about the past. and illnesses. it was fun. i have written two the two girls i met at the party before i fell ill. ones about the movie watching club and the others about the rowing. i havent had any reply. a bit sad ... cz I was really looking fwd. but maybe they just havent read it yet ... and tomorrow is another day
like meeting someone you almost became close friends with and then discovered was a weirdo and had to stick to making PC with from then on. next time you meet them, its the awkwardest thing ... to rewind a relationship. i guess thats why they say that about friends and lovers and transitions between the stages!
and ive always hated making polite conversation. trying to guess what you want to talk about and spinning meaningless leaping majestic yarn about it for hours at and end. actually i must be pretty good at it cz im never caught out. most people think - atleast in the beginning - that i am exactly like them. its the mirror effect. and the ultimate smokescreen at times
lets see ...
a four weeks back my gran fell ill. i prayed like i'd never done before. then i fell ill. chicken pox. 3 weeks at home. totally solitary. i didnt see a soul. just read and watched tv all day long and survived on boiled vegetables once a day. what was scary was that for the most part, i enjoyed the solitude.
last week i joined work. since then its been a whirlwind of playing catch (up) with no pause to think. the ultimate opiate. get up at 5. get to the gym by 6. get to the desk by 9. work. class. rowing 3'ce a week. home work. movies to watch. books to read. money to worry about ... and in the middle of all that, my father arrived on thursday. he was visiting me for 2 days on his way back from germany. i dont think i have ever spent so long with him at a stretch and alone. it was sometimes profound, sometimes crazy. and sometimes nerve wracking. i saw him off on sunday and came back to the empty rooms. i didnt feel ... period. i was kind of numb. watched girl with a pearl earring and another movie. then my mom called. she asked 'baba chole gechhe?' i said 'haan ma'. she said 'mon kharap?' ... what a dumb question! well it broke the dam anyway and it took a while for the torrents to stop. i couldnt stop crying all of sunday and monday ... but by tuesday i was back to cool. last night i had class. we talked about the past. and illnesses. it was fun. i have written two the two girls i met at the party before i fell ill. ones about the movie watching club and the others about the rowing. i havent had any reply. a bit sad ... cz I was really looking fwd. but maybe they just havent read it yet ... and tomorrow is another day
songs and movies
another song i like a lot these days is 'the blowers daughter' by damien rice (featured in his album 'O' and in 'Closer'. I think its going to go down in my list of songs that sound like an audio big bang ... the other ones being jealous guy, purple rain, creep, feeling love
theres this song in pallbearer which i liked a lot ...
also got a long list of movies Q'd up that Im dying to watch and my dad got me 'raincoat'. so really excited about that! another movie I wanted to see but he couldnt find was 'bewafa' with ajay devgan (but ofcourse) and yuva (theres a song in yuva i like a lot)
theres this song in pallbearer which i liked a lot ...
also got a long list of movies Q'd up that Im dying to watch and my dad got me 'raincoat'. so really excited about that! another movie I wanted to see but he couldnt find was 'bewafa' with ajay devgan (but ofcourse) and yuva (theres a song in yuva i like a lot)
crazy
I heard this song on tv in an ad for DFS sofa's & i am for now totally in its spell!
The Closest Thing To Crazy
How can I think I'm standing strong?
Yet feel the air beneath my feet.
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?
How can you let me watch you sleep?
Then break my dreams the way you do.
How can I have got in so deep?
Why did i fall in love with you?
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been.
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen.
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known.
But I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know
That there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness, and being close to you
How can you let me fall apart?
Then break my fall with lovin lies.
It's so easy to break a heart,
It's so easy to close your eyes.
How can you treat me like a child?
Yet like a child I yearn for you.
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?
The Closest Thing To Crazy
How can I think I'm standing strong?
Yet feel the air beneath my feet.
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?
How can you let me watch you sleep?
Then break my dreams the way you do.
How can I have got in so deep?
Why did i fall in love with you?
This is the closest thing to crazy
I have ever been.
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen.
This is the nearest thing to crazy
I have ever known.
But I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know
That there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness, and being close to you
How can you let me fall apart?
Then break my fall with lovin lies.
It's so easy to break a heart,
It's so easy to close your eyes.
How can you treat me like a child?
Yet like a child I yearn for you.
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?
holding back
Ive been offline for the last month ... I had chicken pox!!! Im recovered now but wont get time to write for a while yet, bcz so much piled up when i was down. also, im feeling a little 'off' from the blog. meaning for a while i dont feel like writing. i think i m a little unhappy with what i have been writing offlate.
primarily because, try as i might it gets personal - which is a big problem cz there are too many people who read it who i am friendly with but not personal with - which actually means everyone i know except 5 people. Somehow I am just not the kind of person who will be very revealing about myself. theres probably no one in the world who knows everything about me and there will never be. i cant conceive of being that close to anyone! and though i have gotten a lot of bitter abuse for it in the past, i dont see how my life, or my mind is anyone elses business. I dont think Im being a 'hypocrite' or deceitful if I dont sit down and tell everyone I know a whole inventory about myself!
anyway, I digress ... the second thing is that i found myself writing only when i am miserable or bitter and and it invariably comes through. and for as long as i have lived my miseries have gone round and round in circles around the same central theme ... whats the point tracing that same point in words as well. and theres a lot of anger and black thoughts directed at one or two particular people and till i keep writing about it i cant forgive or forget and till i do that it will keep spilling out on everyone else ... which is unpleasant and unfair!
which ofcourse doesnt mean the problems will go away if i take a break. or even that i will take a massively long break! but im going to take a break anyway. ill keep try to keep posting but probably wont write
primarily because, try as i might it gets personal - which is a big problem cz there are too many people who read it who i am friendly with but not personal with - which actually means everyone i know except 5 people. Somehow I am just not the kind of person who will be very revealing about myself. theres probably no one in the world who knows everything about me and there will never be. i cant conceive of being that close to anyone! and though i have gotten a lot of bitter abuse for it in the past, i dont see how my life, or my mind is anyone elses business. I dont think Im being a 'hypocrite' or deceitful if I dont sit down and tell everyone I know a whole inventory about myself!
anyway, I digress ... the second thing is that i found myself writing only when i am miserable or bitter and and it invariably comes through. and for as long as i have lived my miseries have gone round and round in circles around the same central theme ... whats the point tracing that same point in words as well. and theres a lot of anger and black thoughts directed at one or two particular people and till i keep writing about it i cant forgive or forget and till i do that it will keep spilling out on everyone else ... which is unpleasant and unfair!
which ofcourse doesnt mean the problems will go away if i take a break. or even that i will take a massively long break! but im going to take a break anyway. ill keep try to keep posting but probably wont write