Confessions of a sane mind , interrupted.

 "So,  Stairway to Heaven or Sweet home Alabama? " WHATEVER man.  Play whatever.  " Hey babe,  do you think I should paint my nails purple or black? " WHATEVER baby. You'll look great either way. " Giselle! Would you like  fish fingers or chicken pot roast? " WHATEVER will do. "... I slog all day and I don't even recieve a 'Hi mum,  you're home' " WHATEVER, MUM. " You know man,  you've been acting like a real dick lately" WHATEVER.  I think it matters have an opinion. I think it matters to give a definite or an unsure answer to someone's question, instead of a carelessly vague 'Whatever'. When she asks you about what colour  looks better,  tell her what you think.  If you hate both the options,  tell her that too.  If you think the purple reminds you of the time you first went second base on her,  tell her that.  She'll wear purple baby. If your mum asks you about food,  tell her.  S...

1.Give me confidence to be able to attempt a summersault on the beach. 2. Promise me that my country will learn through its mistakes and be the marvel of a nation that it can be , so people don't want to leave it anymore. 3.Grant me enough patience to be able to do Yoga. 4. Assure me that my self worth was worth the battles that I fought with myself, when self doubt did its rounds. 5. Determine me to not only attempt cooking, but to conjure up that one trademark dish that all the kids in the family will tell their friends about. 6. Reflect in a deja vu, why my decision to not give up is what made me smile today. 8. Be prepared to see my kickass driving skills. 9. Be prepared to see love in the eyes of strangers that become family, in the memories framed on the wall. 10. When they point to the pictures, you make sure that they tell them my name. #name

Love is a hug lasting for 20 seconds extra.  Love is having a crappy day and coming to an old friend selling  you SHEV puri. One that makes all your worries go away. Love is your dad sending you messages that start with  'Check your common sense'. Love is  friends giving you proxies after calling you  a bitch. Love is when your mother teams up with you so you can  pick on your jackass  sibling. Love is the jackass sibling doing your chores(while on a rant). Love is a a dog. Love is a kiss that's given immediately  after you declare that you hated the previous  one. Love is gossiping  with your grandmother over a packet of Lays. Love is 'A walk to Remember'. Love is when she tells her,  that  she loves her better than any guy ever could. Love is when you turn down the lights and put on your head phones. When you love yourself. Love is when he tells you that it's okay if you move on.  That even that won't  ch...

"When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother,  'What will I be?'  What will I be?  What will I be? At 6, right after singing 'Country Roads' on stage, I told my dad that I wanted to be a singer. He hugged me. 8 years later, after numerous shuffles from wanting to be a teacher, a painter, a stamp collector, a librarian, an author, a sharp looking business woman,  I told him again, " Dada, I want to be a singer" He didn't hug me this time. At 14, I was a chubby teenager who had no friends. But I had a stereo, and it played Avril Lavigne's ' 2007 album, 'Best Damn Thing', over and over, until I could sing every note and rap every word. At 15, I agreed with mum and concluded that a singing career is frivolous and risky. So I decided to ace tests ( and I did). But secretly I would spend roughly all day singing.  Mostly Shania Twain and Taylor Swift. Yes, I had a Taylor Swift phase. And no, I'm not that good. I'm okay...

When they tell you to run like a girl, how will you run? When they tell you that homosexuality is unnatural, what will you do? When they judge you by the skin of your ancestors, what will you say? In order to answer these questions,  let’s correct the question. How will WE run? What will WE say? What will WE do? A mother gets a maternity leave when a child is born. But what about the equally responsible father, Who tends to his crying child and starts his day at dawn? A father too wants to spend time with his child, He too changes her diapers and spends every second to make  her smile. What about the fact that it’s okay for my brother to stay out late? And me doing the same is unacceptable, because mama yells  ‘Foolish child! Out in the dark, terrible men wait!’ What about the fact that when we study sex education, Our education only makes us aware about heterosexual sex? Speaking of education, my fifth grade teacher once tol...

It matters how you feel at every point.  Every damn minute, it matters.  It combines to reduce you. Or it makes you.  Either way, you can't help but feel.  So darling, when you do feel like you want to end it, please don't. I don't promise you happy ever afters.  I can't assure you that.  But I can tell you that tomorrow won't be as bad as tonight.  I can tell you that there will be nights which will make this night irrelevant.  Every time  that you felt low,  will be compensated for a fleeting yet irrevocable emotion of joy.  It is but the very nature of the universe to maintain balance. If this is your yin , then think of your yang as catching a train back home to you.  Until then, you just need to go ahead.  You need to believe that you can do it.  If you are here, right now, you haven't given up.   One day, if you try and you still can't take it, I wil...

"Who am I?" Ambivalent. "Why is that?" Because, indecisive piece of shit. Why can't you make a choice? Times running out. Why did they say what they did? Why is it fearful? Is it just me? WHAT THE FUCK? Do I believe in the universe? In God? In religion? In myself ? I don't belong to this time. I SHOULD BEHAVE LIKE THIS. WHY SHOULD I BE ANYTHING BUT MYSELF? But they have their shit together. I love love. BE RATIONAL. ITS TOO CHEESY. I should stop justifying myself. Maybe I swear too much. Maybe they don't really care that much. DO I EVEN CARE? Maybe I care too much? MAYBE I SHOW TOO LITTLE? How is the world so sick? WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. How can a song be this sad? 'Dead Poets Society' is everything. Why cant it(the universe) hear me? DID YOU SEE THAT?! Nothing is exciting enough. Do I try harder? Do I stop? I have the best people. How can people be such jerks? Maybe I shouldn't be this sad. Maybe ...

1. My entire college life has been an evolution of me learning to accept my awkwardness after several attempts of failing to get rid of it . Also I pride the fact that I'm super weird. Not every guy gets this. 96% don't. The other 4% have been either friendzoned or taken. 2. I am not the one for small talk. I either talk and laugh and ignore the fact that I'm very audible sometimes or I don't make a conversation at all. I don't want to know 'whats up?'. 3.  Yes. I get mood swings. No . That doesn't mean that you assume I'm on my period. I have expectations. But I dont say them out loud. Instead I pick a small situation and go ballistic on your ass because of something you did or didn't months back. Such a keeper right? 4. If a guy flirts with me, I laugh inexplicably and raise my hand for an up-top like ," Man ! I love that you referenced 'Prince of Bell Air'.  Guy: *blank look* um. What? Me : okay then *walks away* 5. I ha...

I refuse to be sad when there are so many chances that need to be taken.  I refuse to give up even though walking on a tight rope was not something I did. So what if I lost my balance ? Its never too late to get it back. Its never to late for anything.  You might not achive the exact goal that you have in your mind. Its a perception. But know that  when you feel that you haven't gotten there, you already have. You took a chance with life. You readily gave up your mind and became a hopless lover. You gave up your heart and chose to walk alone. You never gave up on your big dreams even though some other douchebag took away your big cupcake.  You did what you had to..to move on.  You had the courage to not give up. You tried.  And that, made all the difference.  

Some ass once said : ‘art never comes out of happiness’ . That ass was smart. That ass was right. And he was an ass for being right. You try sometimes. And most times, it works. Your tears actually didn’t go waste. They managed to fuel some empathy in the target person and shit was sorted out. But its not always like that is it? I mean , not all of us are sob fests. Not all of us are spoilt kids harbouring fake tears.  Most of us are like the Bob Dylan songs.  Crying within an immense solitude, that which heard from another world , sounds like a beautiful song that gives you peace. The truth is, most of us are hopeless tragedies.  If things could work out just fine, then we wouldn't mind. But the cold blooded truth is, it never actually does. Maybe its a just me being all pessimistic. But if i could make all the things in my head work out in reality, i'd actually sound pretty close to optimism. Picture a 'rainbow- farting- unicorn' optimism. I think a lot...