My Seventeenth <3

Before I can talk about my birthday itself, I have to tell you about the day BEFORE it. On the 18th of December, I went to school and didn't go back home :P. This is because all of a sudden, I grew a social life. I attended a surprise birthday party for a fellow Saggitarian, after which I went clubbing.

Yes.

*I*, geek-of-the-year award-winner went "CLUBBING". I even have an "India Nightlife" photo now. (But I look terrible, so I won't upload it :P). Initially, when I was waiting in line to get in, I wanted to cry on account of being almost molested by several fat teens with testosterone run amok. I had to hold on to an acquaintance for dear life (I don't think his girlfriend appreciated my desperately clinging on to his back and waiting for him to move..oh well). I was also upset because the clock nearly struck 12 there in that sorry excuse for a line (more like a moshpit, being molested by fat boys when two friends had cancelled plans to surprise me at home at 12. Finally, I was pushed to the front of the line but despite my deathgrip on said acquantaince, he slipped away under the arm of the bouncer, and I was stuck with the bouncer basically roaring at my face about how I couldn't even pass for 15 (ouch!). Plus, the huge arm of this bouncer was dangerously pressed against my chest which was very disconcerting, so I begged a friend of mine behind me to wrap his hand around my chest...desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose..

Well, so I finally got INSIDE the club by 11.20, and actually danced for a change. My best friend was there too, but she was with her boyfriend, so I didn't get to spend a lot of time with her. Coming back to the acquaintance onto whom I was clinging for dear life, let's call him B, he decided I was going to get drunk that night, (Apologies if I'm shocking you with every word) and bought me a round of tequila shots with yummy stuff on the rim of the shot glass. He then offered me Pepsi and whiskey, which was disgusting stuff. His gorgeous girlfriend then decided to intervene and hand me a lemon wedge, which was very nice of her..

Being sufficiently under the influence of alcohol, I began dancing wildly around the room and nearly climbed up on the bar but despite my drunken state, my inherent geekiness reminded me that if I did this, the bartenders would be able to treat themselves to a view up my skirt. When it was finally 12, everyone in my class decided to surround me and shower me with hugs, which felt very nice. More wild dancing followed, of course, in the spirit of celebration, when a certain 11th grader, let's call him KS, decided to lock his arms around my waist and attempted to grind with me. The inner geek of course found this disgusting, so I slid away from him whenever possible. I stepped out of the club at 1 o clock, and what followed is top secret...(stop thinking that right away, you dirty-minded person).

So, the next day: My birthday.

It didn't start off very well, because I had gone to the parlour to get my nails painted and my hair washed..yes, I do believe in occasionally indulging in unnecessary luxuries. When I asked for a blow-dry, the lady who was going to do the blow-dry outlined the horrors of split-ends for me and advised me to trim my hair, and stupid as I am, I totally fell for it. I had gorgeous long hair that reached my waist, and I don't anymore, since she cut so much of my hair. Now it only reaches my bra line, and I spend most of my time panicking about my 'man hair'..

What's worse is that I had DAIMUN on my birthday, which was indeed very sad. But B got me a black forest cake, so it was all good. After all the work was done, my best friend S and a new friend N came home with me to cut ANOTHER cake (yes, I'm so loved :P). I was a little disappointed at this point because I'd tried inviting the whole world over to cut the cake with me, but everybody had other plans. Little did I know..

After I cut the cake at home, S suggested that we go out to dinner to Noodle Bar, and I agreed. I was busy dragging her to a two-seater, but for some reason she refused to go to the two seater and kept leading me towards the bigger tables. I opened my mouth to reprimand her but stopped before I could say anything, because the next thing I saw was ALL MY FRIENDS STANDING AROUND THIS BIG TABLE!!!!!!!!!!! :D We ordered all this amazing food, and there was even a guitarist who sang "Time of Your Life" for us. I was overwhelmed, and couldn't stop thinking about how awesome my friends are.

It really WAS the best birthday ever. :)

Our Journey [ For Srushti ]

It started out pretty simple.
You, me.
A streetside cafe
Simultaneously glaring and giggling at randomers that walked in
Me with my blushing cheeks and green capris
You with your then chubby face and innocent eyes
Smiles all around
Nervous whispers.

Second thoughts.
Him.
An awkward baseball cap,
Impossibly chaotic facial hair
Tantra t-shirt - funny guy.
E-mail IDs and phone numbers exchanged,
Tissue paper, silver kolhapuris, sly little kicks under the table;
Love/lust?

Pain.
You,him. Me.
Crying in a corner at a birthday party
Cocktail umbrellas and blue slushies
Of Reliance phones, 'stalkers' and polka-dotted dresses
25 missed calls the day you cried.
I couldn't bring myself to accept
That something had changed.

Venom.
You,him.
White envelopes and cursive handwriting
Letters about respective psychogeneses
Chocolate eyes and ebony skin
Hate-speech, unimaginable
What went wrong?
Falling apart with no-one to catch you
Accusations flying like restless birds
Across a dark sky of hate,
Loss and broken hearts.

Beauty.
Me, him.
Holding hands over a battered camera bag
6:42 PM on 20th July 2007
Giddy with the words: I and love and you
Sunsets, bracelets, chocolate, flowers, perfume, happiness.
Six months of love
Hugs in the darkness, late night text messages, 50 calls a day
The introduction of Pepsi MyCans
Phone calls in the pouring rain,
Four exclamation marks outside Crossword.
Love.

Separation.
You, me.
Pain and anger, volatile
Unspoken conversations, uncried tears, futile friendship bands
Sister, friend, angel
Giggles and sneaking around
Long talks, inside jokes, comforting hugs
Gone without a trace.

Sex and lust.
Him, me.
Dark alleyways, perverse perceptions
Kisses and tongue and meaningful whispers
Mangled bodies, hands, legs, lips.
Ignored phone calls, unanswered text messages
Gasps, heavy breathing, moans and whimpers
Cigarettes, marijuana and XTC
Him in love with drugs, me drugged with love.
Explosions of desire
The world won't matter.

Sex and lust.
Him, you.
You finally get what you've longed for for so long
Taken in by the lies
The false promises, the glorification of you over me
Complimenting your body, stolen kisses
Playing on your weaknesses
Sharpening his strengths
You meeting my eye as you hold him
Him promising he loves me, and then you
"Unofficial relationships"
You, falling just like I did.

Recovery.
Me.
IB Grade 7, Business and Management, Psychology, Environmental Systems, French B
White shirts and skinny jeans with formal heels,
Akanksha Aurora, June-July 2009
The red identification card
Co-producing shows, graphic design and late night edit shifts
Phone calls and coffee on the terrace, again unanswered
Running as fast as my heels could carry me to the chocolate machine with the surfer girl
Genuine smiles as opposed to fake
Confidence as opposed to low self-esteem
Happiness as opposed to pain.

Friendship.
Me, you.
A Facebook message from a Playboy Bunny,
Bonds strengthened and animosity dissipated, sharing everything we ever had to hide
Smiles and giggles in French class, dissing bad grammar in Psychology
All that talk of ugliness and slobbery kissing
Listening to Mr.Personality and Right Said Fred
Back to normal.
The girl with the new haircut
and the girl with the no-longer chubby face.
Picture taking in the bathroom, dissing common friends, losing others
Not caring, because we have each other.

So here's to me and you. Minus Him.
:)

Internationally Bitchslapped

So exams are finally over. I've been walking the fine line between a 37 and 41 points (if you think it's weird, wait till you read the rest of this post).

The first paper I received was ESS. I'd gotten a 6, which was the highest in class,
but it was still a 6, so I wallowed in depression for the first half hour of class and hunted for marks in the next half hour. I needed 5 more marks to get a 7.

The kicker?

I found only 4 marks.

However, after much chasing and bullying of Mr. Desilva, I finally gave up hope. But then, yesterday, when I passed him in the corridor and asked (without expectations) whether or not he'd bumped me up to a 7, he narrowed his beady eyes at me and went
"Do you think you DESERVE a 7?"

I went for the kill.

"Yes," and punctuated this with a somewhat nervous grin.

"You're my only 7!" He grinned, as I suddenly spouted a flurry of "THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!"s and "Oh I was so depressed with all my other grades, you totally made my day!!!!!!!!!"s and lots of exclamation marks.

Business and Management. The memory of this paper still hurts. The sheer agony makes me cringe away from the number 5, used in any context. Seriously. My mum asked me what time it was once, and it was 5, and I was on the verge of tears..

So this one's a long story. Rojoa, in order to prove a point to the rest of the world, decided to go extra-strict with us to dispel his reputation for being lenient. Of course, I was incensed and decided to go the rebellious, I-will-not-accept-this-stupid-grade-because-I-have-never-gotten-more-than-a-7-in-my-life way and annotated my entire paper with angry pencil lines linked to the criteria for higher grades so that I could at least get a 6. Of course, since he re-evaluated my paper, he also re-evaluated everybody else's.

And guess what?

EVERYBODY BUT ME GOT UPGRADED.

Stupid, stupid, STUPID tiny snakey Voldemort man!

So I walked into the lunchroom, making a huge scene about how I've probably failed everything, and I'm not a nerd anymore, and my life is over and I'm going to die in some sad Indian college and never go abroad, when cutie Wilcox (my English teacher) pulls me aside and goes:

"If it's any consolation, you got a 6 in English"

And a consolation it was. I thought I'd get nothing more than a 4. But then, when I finally got to English class, I looked at my paper and realized that I'd missed a 7 by one mark.

ONE MARK.

AND M HAD GOTTEN A 6, which means, on paper, M and I are equally good at English!

Now, does that really suck or does that really suck?

Anyway, I refused to give up that easily and went on to beg for the mark and she's promised to consult the head of department and try her best to bump me up.

Fingers crossed.

Moving on, Thursday first period - Psychology. Straight 7, no questions or begging involved. (Thankfully)

French, 7. (or according to miss delphine, "Mees Akaynsha, sept")

Ah, math. Again, I missed a 7 by one mark, but then he gave me the mark since he'd forgotten to count something in my paper (phew)! Of course, M got 57/60 and kept bragging about how that totally "pwns" my 51.

So, in sum:
English: 6/7?
Psychology: 7
Business and Management: 5
ESS: 7
French: 7
Math: 7

Total: 39.

STUPID STUPID STUPID 39.

WHEN am I going to get that 40?

:(

So Damn Beautiful

Oi linda,
Bella que fa?
Bonita, bonita, que tal?
But belle,
Je ne comprends pas Francais.
So you'll have to speak to me, some other way. (:

<3

Smile :)

6:30 AM - Waking up to the Pet Shop Boys, startled out of bed by the unimaginably high volume of my alarm tone.

7:12 AM - Out of the shower, hair washed and combed, kaajal in place, clip securely fastened to the back of my head

7:35 AM - First song on my Shuffle: 20 Dollar Nose Bleed by Fall Out Boy. Lately, I've taken to listening to songs that don't mean anything, just so that I can't relate to anything. I wonder what Freud would think of that as a defense mechanism.

7:38 AM - I reach the stop to find S looks like a big yellow pineapple; and the other little girl (for whom I turned into Superman for a day) is in a frilly white "frock". Seriously, a frock.

8:20 AM - Everyone's marvelling at my ESS notes, and who can blame them? *smug grin*

8:30 AM - Panic. I don't know anything on the exam, even though I busted my ass studying for the past 5 days.

8:40 AM - Panic.

9:00 AM - Panic eases.

9:30 AM - My hands fell off, and I'm still not sure I'll pass the paper.

9:45 AM - M and I went begging to Deepak Bhatia, yes, BEGGING because he threatened us oh-so-sweetly in the mail about our stupid Maths Studies Projects.

10:00 AM - I'm called a "skeleton" once again

11:00 AM - Panic.

11:30 AM - More panic.

12:00 PM - Internal explosion. I doubt this much panic is good for anyone.

1:00 PM - Metaphorical tears.

1:07 PM - Lunchroom with M, him stuffing his face and me compulsively ingesting bananas. Finding out that his paper was as shitty as mine was comforting, but not enough.

1:15 PM - Learning centre. M is googling useless presentations for our B&M case study online, and then arguing with me about how he's not just doing it to show off

1:30 PM - I commence my scholarly pursuit by picking out relevant business terms from Paul Hoang's textbook, and then panic about how I don't know all those things

1:40 PM - M wants to listen to British radio, and shows off about how he's so cool because he knows his British postal code. He then proceeds to, very conspicuously, sit on the floor near the CPU with the volume on minimum so that he can press his ear to the speakers and listen. He then grabs the 2009 Guinness Book of World Records, and vows to show me a picture of the woman with the biggest boobs in the world to make me feel even more inadequate than usual. He then proceeds to complain, and I quote, "This is a gay song…all these English people like this song…all these British farmers and all."

2:00 PM - M decides it's time for a so-called "Study Break" and proceeds to play Chaos Faction, during the course of which he takes the liberty to swear a lot; mostly in the vein of "FUCK YOUR MOM!" and "I took your mom bitch!" and "I kill your mom. I kill your dad. I kill your family, you stupid fucking gorilla/eskimo/sumo!"

3:00 PM - Tears again, but this time happy tears :)

True

I see the truth.

The truth is this: I'm one hell of a deluded little pixie.

Except the little pixie bit.

I'm not on your mind. Not a trace of me. It's obvious.

Man, what a screwed up waste of hope.

I'm sick of being so naive. I need to assert myself so that I'm not a blur in your vision anymore - preferably not in your vision at all.

I think the best thing to do now is go scrape all the self-pitying skin off my face.

Exams

Every nerd's dream come true, right?

Wrong.

Every minute spent doing something other than studying is killing me. And WHY is it killing me? Because I feel so irrevocably guilty. However, there's no point being a nerd if you can't live up to the label. Therefore, I have decided to take the night off and wake up bright and early and hit the books. OK, hit the book. The annoyingly informative, impossibly large and mercifully colourful Environmental Systems and Societies course companion for IB.Because I still have to finish ecological succession, which I have been putting off for no real reason except for the fact that it annoys me to bits.

I have Math as my first exam on Wednesday, You see, I hate math and everything, but when I practise it and I get things right, I feel like a right genius. (Please do not mention anything about how it's okay for me to feel like a genius since I have maths studies, because if you do, I'll whack you). On a brighter note, I also have French on Wednesday, which makes life a whole lot easier. I mean, studying French is actually fun :P

Anyway, my mom's kind of on my head right now, so I must take your leave

Goodnight :)

I've Got the Sickness, Who's Got the Cure?

So I spent a large chunk of my time in the past two days throwing up. I had to skip school, two days in a row, which is really saying something for someone who hasn't skipped in the past 5 years.

I'm too sick to type anymore, so I must go.

Signing off,

A :)

5th September 2009

My day got off to a healthy start since I woke up and went straight to the gym (oh, how I love the gym) . I had the most scrumptious butter-and-honey-and-maple-syrup pancakes [the benefits of a weight-gain program right there] with a side dish of mouth-watering chicken sausages sautéed in garlic. :)

Of course, when I got home, I had to pretend I hadn't eaten anything so as to avoid a lecture from my mother about the evils of non-vegetarian food; and consequently managed to eat a whole melon...plus a plate full of rice with pickle.

So yeah, I spent the major part of my day stuffing my face.

It's 5:00 PM on a particularly lazy Saturday afternoon and I've just painstakingly squeezed out 500 more words for my Extended Essay. I'm rewarding myself with a 'blog-break', which makes me feel a lot less guilty than sleeping does.

Right now, I feel guilty because I'm surrounded by piles of meticulously compiled, highlighted and colour-coded background notes to help me with my essay and haven't consulted a single one of them in the past hour.

I'm also slowly losing patience with my mother, who's supposed to take me shopping but just won't budge from her favourite spot near the phone. My best friend's birthday is in 2 hours and I know I won't get anything done by then at this rate.

Sigh.

Rambling About Another Day

So I woke up this morning, really psyched because school was only till 1 PM. As usual, I tried to sneak out in one of my old skirts (You see, my new ones are what I like to call He Man skirts - they have all these prissy silver buckles on the side and are MILES long - I'm not even exaggerating). So I lucked out, and found one of my older skirts, which, coincidentally, is dangerously high above the knees :P But what I do is pull them down to PRETEND they're He-Man skirts, sometimes pulling them so far that they nearly fall off; in order to appease my mum.

So after finding a decent skirt and downing my standard glass of milk and eating my compulsory 5 almonds, I was out the door. You see, recently I'm really happy because I've finally added new songs to my iPod. My iPod wire was screwed up, my computer is screwed up, and consequently iTunes was screwed up. But finally, I managed to surpass all three of these seemingly insurmountable problems by
a) borrowing my best friend's boyfriend's iPod wire
b) Downloading iTunes onto my dad's computer
c) Transferring all the music in my computer to his
d) Re-syncing my iPod

So yeah, patience IS a virtue. This is exactly what I was thinking, humming happily along to some Static Lullaby song until I walked headfirst into a tree; and apologized to it.

Yeah..these things happen quite often.

Anyway, I'm upset because my big yellow Spongebob bag is coming apart at the seams. Believe me when I say it's the cutest thing ever. I'm going to miss it...or better still, get it fixed. I've been forced to substitute it with my hippy-esque smileys/rainbows/peace signs one which I bought in Paris. Oh well, I'm sure it'll all work out in the end. :P

Unfortunately, this morning, when I put on my uniform I neglected to notice that I was missing the top button on my shirt. An artistic friend of mine has now labelled me a "button slut" because he could 'see stuff' in math class. So, I, the miracle inventor, used an upside-down hair clip as a makeshift button. In my defense, NOBODY had a safety pin. Not even those housekeeping ladies.

Well, ToK class is never worth talking about. I made up some more bullshit about how man is nowhere without truth, and his very existence is defined by the absolute truth; etc. etc. Of course, I felt supremely inferior (is that even possible?) to a friend of mine who also happens to be in that class since she keeps quoting all these scientific journals and intellectual-sounding publications...oh well.

Fortunately, school ended on a good note because I achieved full marks in a B&M test I was seriously dreading getting back. Who would have thought? :)

So now I'm back home - I'd intended to dedicate all of today to my Extended Essay, but between sleeping, eating popcorn, counselling people and going to dentist appointments, I couldn't seem to find time. And here I am, blogging since I've resolved to blog regularly now.

Anyway, EE calls.

Signing off :)

Happy Couples

I've whined about this countless times in the past, but now it's really getting to me.

To think happy couples could at least hold off making out around a desolate, lonely, destined-to-be-single, un-boyfriendable (non)entity... Well I thought that, but I guess I was just suffering from a momentary lapse in reason.

It's not that I am bitter, because I am not. I'm happy for all these people around me, but sad for myself - if that makes any sense. Because in the end, I'm the one stuck with nobody to go kiss and hug.

I hate self-pity, so I'm going to stop now, but that really doesn't change the fact that I feel like crap.

*sigh*

Images

Scattered, shattered
Glass.
Failing, falling
Tears.
Release, disease
Pain.
Blinking, thinking
Introspection.
Crowded, clouded
Disillusionment.
Jumping, pumping
Adrenaline.
Pining, shining
Diamonds.
Screaming, dreaming
Catharsis.
Loving, leaving
You.

Aimless Letter to Nobody in Particular

There is never a good reason for doing this. [Never.]

The problem lies here.

My trust in you has now been damaged, and things will never be the same again. I will never see you through these disillusioned eyes ever again. Selfless, unconditional love has no benefits.

What would stop you from doing it again? It didn't stop you the first time. Or the second, or the third, or the fourth. Things just don't get any lower than that.

There will be no revenge and no repurcussions.

There will be silence.

To undermine you and me this way has put a pin on where your loyalties lie and how much you were willing to put into my life.

Where do I go from here?

This time, I won't trust a single lie. This time I'm going to be selfish. This time I'm going to move on. This time I will put my feelings first. Over time, I might even forgive this.

But forget it? Never.

I can hear a scratchy lead pencil drawing up a mini-checklist as I writ this.

- Can I trust you again? No.
- Can I see myself happy with you again? No.
- Can I ever love you the way I did yesterday? No.

The bottom line: I've been trodden on by the one person I loved unconditionally and expected nothing I would normally expect from. There is nothing in this situation I can ignore.

For now, you have changed everything.

Distinctions

If my experience is anything to go by, there are two types of people in the world.

Type One: Those who know what they want and go after it;

and

Type Two: Those who go mess it up for the rest of us.

Care to guess which of the two I've had more experiences with?

There's probably a hell of a lot of trash talk going around about me right now, trying to change opinions and even create them. It would almost be funny if it weren't so unbelievably pathetic.

Do people think I can't really see what's going on here?

Anyway. So these people want to get their clutches on the people and things you hold dear. Fine. If they want those people now, they can have them. They can twist their minds in whatever way they want, because it doesn't matter anymore.

But there are some people you just see as non-negotiable - people who care about you too much to fall prey to any devious plotting on the part of the Type Twos of life. The way these people act is hardly a surprise - after all, they've always wanted whatever Type Ones like me have.

But the way the supposed "non-negotiables" have been acting is like a slap in the face. Doesn't the word "friendship" mean ANYTHING anymore? The Type Twos appear to have put the "non-negotiables" on some kind of short leash, and they don't even see it.

Yet for some reason, while the Type Ones go after something, it's the Type Twos that end up actually getting those things.

Makes the Type One wonder if it was worth it at all - any of it.

Whatever, I've got enough to deal with.

I really don't need this crap right now.

Nerd

Nerd (n.)

- An individual persecuted for his superior skills or intellect, most often by people who fear and envy him/her.

- A stereotypical label used to describe a person that is socially inadequate. A four letter word, but a six figure income.

-Nerds exist covertly within the fabric of society, often choosing to 'nerd it up' in private or in the company of fellow nerds. It is for this reason they are feared the most - unlike geeks, who are easily identified, nerds can only be found out when casual conversation reaches a subject that they like nerding.

:)

courtesy: www.urbandictionary.com

Blind

Is it just me, or is everybody around me completely blind?

It seems that nobody can see what people are really like. Seems like nobody even wants to. Which is good, because they're happier, ignorance being bliss and all that...but they should be ABLE to. Am I making sense here?

Maybe it's just the heightened perception that's been bestowed upon me by a number of bad experiences, or my overanalytical tendencies. Or both. I've lost too many people through misidentification. I thought people who didn't care did, and people who did..didn't. Lovers to strangers, best-friends to bloodthirsty enemies, friends to mere acquaintances; what happened? Just when did this intricately tangled web of deception manage to weave itself around my heart, constricting my energy and vivacity so completely?

When all of these people attempted to make a convenient and in some cases requisite exit from my life, it was as though they were passing through an invisible seive - because the crap filtered out, and the people who actually cared stayed behind. It was difficult to live with this, but it isn't anymore. I've said goodbye to the naive tendency to trust everybody, and said hello to the more mature one of maintaining a distance.

It's like I'm seeing light for the first time.

All this while, I was blind; just like a lot of people seem to be.

When I see what's coming to them, I thank all the powers in the Universe that I'm not blind anymore.

Rewind.

I don't have any empirical evidence (sorry, it's the psychology effect) to support this, but I think it's a pretty reasonable assumption that at one point or another, everyone must become pretty damn sick of themselves.

I mean, logically, how could this keep itself from happening? How could people completely refrain from growing disarmingly, incredibly sick of themselves after a while? Do you know what we're talking about here?

Tenty-four hours a day.
Seven days a week.
We are literally FORCED to spend this time with ourselves. Sleeping, eating, talking, fighting, dressing, undressing- every second.

I have spent every waking moment of my life with me. And the truth is. . . I am sick to death of it.

I can't really fathom who, in their right mind, would not be sick of me at this point. My life, after all, never seems to change. Well, it did: People drifted away (for the good, really), I lost my first love, I got bangs. But really, it didn't: More people appeared, someone else likes me, my bangs have almost grown out.

My life really just repeats itself over and over in this strange cycle: crap and tragedy. . .then hope. . .then actual happiness . . . and then, without fail, crap and tragedy again. I'm a tragi-comic broken record- a study in numbing emotional monotony. I'm one very long sad-ass story that never seems to end.

Until now.

Now I am stating it for the record. If I could scream it to this entire pain-in-the-ass city, I would. If I could take out an ad in every piece-of-crap newspaper in India, I would do it. Because I want everyone who has ever known me to hear this and to understand it:

I am hereby changing my life.

I am breaking the cycle. I am breaking it because I can-because for the first time in God knows how long, I think I have a real chance to do it. I have the pieces of a real life staring me in the face and I swear to God, I am going to put them together if it kills me.

My enemies are gone. I have real friends. I don't even know what my friends think of me yet, but I refuse to screw it up. I have a chance to do it right this time. All of it. A chance to be real- a real girl with real feelings- no matter how pathetic I look, no matter how embarrassing my complete emotional ineptitude might be at first.

A new beginning. That is what I have here. That is what this is going to be for me.

A new beginning with a new me. A me that doesn't bitch and moan about her existential woes. A me that doesn't repeat the same fatalistic routine over and over again. A me that doesn't have to be nauseatingly sick of herself anymore.

I've already been given my first test.

I was safe and sound for a piddling year and now I've been ratted on to my mother.

Now, old Sasha would be ranting about this already- launching into some old OMG SHE IS SUCH A BITCH sob story. But I'm not going to be that person anymore. I'm not. I'm just going to recognize the facts for what they are:

- In the long-term, this shit won't matter anymore.

And so be it. I'm not going to cry about it. My hideously lonely days are over. And that will be that.

- NO MORE BITCHING.

I am so sick of it. I am sick to death of the half-assed, boring, peer-pressured soap opera that's been shoved down my throat for the past year. It's not a life. I'm not even sure what you would call what's been passing for my life.
I think you'd call it, "God's idea of a joke."

It doesn't matter. The point is, I'll tell God or the Fates or anyone else who wants to listen:

The joke is officially over.
I am pressing reset.
Do over.
I am starting my life again.

[ Picture Source : ~TheWhiteNight on www.deviantart.com ]

The Shadow Proves the Sunshine

DISCLAIMER: This is an old, morbid post break-up bitterness induced "story". I don't even know why I'm putting this up. Just reminded me of how silly I could be at times! :P

“The truth is,
you could slit my throat
And with my one last gasping breath
I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt”
~ You’re So Last Summer, Taking Back Sunday

Silhouetted and hunched over one of the park benches is an all-too-familiar masculine form.

I move towards it slowly for everything seems to progress at a leisurely pace. It grows in size as I get closer - but why is it even here? At times it seems to be eclipsed by a seemingly surreal haze, but a blurred outline is apparent. The form seems to shine, even amidst the thick darkness that obscures my vision. I am close enough now to infer its tangibility; so it can’t be a hallucination.
The haze is almost gone as I cautiously approach the form in its midst.

Suddenly, it shatters, melting into the evening, and I still can’t believe who it is. I close my eyes and open them again with a disenchanted sigh that is immediately suppressed. I walk over to him and park myself beside his bench. He tilts back his head and looks me in the eye, and I am submerged within the murky brown seas of his eyes.

“Alex.” I utter, stupidly.

“Maya.” He says, the look in his eyes softening.
An arm’s length away from him and his warmth, I stand. Before I can stop myself, I am reaching out. I still don’t believe he is really here. My fingertips brush his face – it has a definite feel, its own rough, beautiful texture.
A light, a presence- testing me out, seeking my measure.

I am about to withdraw my hand when he grasps it within his own and pulls me close to him so we were one being now. The light within me pulses strongly once more before it immediately implodes.

It collapses and cascades around me in a storm of dazzling white fire.

“Maya, I still love you, a whole lot. Be mine again, and I promise you that we will be what we used to be minus the pain.” He’s saying.
His arms tighten their grip around my bare waist. I knew wearing a crop top would be a bad idea.

Suddenly, my senses return and I feel alive again, although the darkness and the emptiness remains. The feel of life has rushed into me. It is a sudden, explosive awakening, something I have never known. For months since he had left me I was nothing but an awareness, and then, in one infinite moment I am everything I want to be.
I am aware but that is not to say that I am conscious.

I can form no thought.

I don’t know my name or even that I might possess one.

For a time, a moment or an eternity, I know nothing. No memories haunt me.

There is only Alex, Maya and the pulse of the dark.

I was briefly aware that his lips were brushing mine, and I’m having my very first kiss.

There’s an odd feeling in my stomach. Not the butterfly feeling he used to give me all those months back in July, but a weird sort of energy, like something is flowing out of it and rippling around me. He is loosening his grip around my waist now, and as I reach out to hold him again, I notice something that could only have been a figment of my imagination. Sure, it was my first kiss- but I didn't know it was my last one.

My eyes widen in horror.

I finally manage to absorb the sight of the knife protruding from my stomach. The pain is imperceptible at first but ever more as the flow of blood goes unchecked.
In death too, I am happy – for the last thing I see is Alex’s smile.

[ Inspired by "Hearts Collide"- Green Day ]

FlushedPinkCheeksPolkaDottedDressBlackXSApples.
EbonySkinWarmBreathSoftLipsChocolateEyesSkittles.

Thoughts. Sounds. Pictures. Memories. Disjointed snapshots fall around them in a breathtaking storm of bright white fire. A maddening torrent of color and emotion that left them powerless yet fragrant with the joy of life and love. Should you ask if these memories brought them joy or pain, both would answer yes; and that is all that they would say.

When triumph bleeds into bliss; I knew it from the first kiss.
Tonight, hearts collide. Hearts collide. Hearts collide.

Whispers

She pins every last strand of mahogany rain back onto her head under a clip in the shape of a blue and pink fish carcass. With green leaves for fins. The dark waves of her hair are barely contained in the ponytail that cascades smoothly down her narrow back.

She looks at herself critically, as though performing a quality check. An appraisal - she could have been examining her long face for defects. As her eyes run over the high forehead, full lips and high cheekbones; she can't help hearing the words as they echo through the crumbling walls of her memory. All the whispers in the shadows. She tries to evade being overwhelmed by the sharp sting of pain that courses through her veins like poison from a lethal injection.

The too-long socks, the austere expression, the bulky shoes and long skirt. The confident gait; utterly mismatched with the clumsy, too-large schoolbag and floppy ponytail. The uniform that effortlessly and effectively turns her into a circus exhibit. She passes by them, one by one. Sexy hairstyles, short skirts, colourfully made up eyes and blushing cheeks. Wounded hearts, masks and marionnettes. Whispers in the shadows.

She steps into the sunshine.

You

A song in my heart

Your name on my lips

A fistful of sunshine

Your scent on my fingertips

A fire in your eyes

The darkness of your skin

Chocolate, ebony, coffee -

Gone with the sin.

You know what this is.

Love.

The forever kind.

[ Picture Source: Strawberry Fields Forever by ~lyricaldust on www.deviantart.com]

Complete.

They gazed into each other's eyes
Almost an identical shade of brown
Hers clear with hope and
murky with confusion
His clear with certainty

In the sunlight
The teak smoothness of his skin
Contrasts with the milky brown of hers
Dead center
A meadow of broken dreams.
Tears would have been fitting, but -
Expression seems inappropriate.

One moment in time.
His lips meet hers -
Complete.

First Post

What exactly do people put on their first posts? Frankly, staring at the bland whiteness of this box was starting to get to me; which is the only reason I'm even writing something. And as you can tell, I'm not doing it very well.

Rambling is a speciality.
I don't know if I'm proud to say this, but I can ramble about anything and everything. Take this font, for instance. The typewriter look and feel of it makes me feel awfully scholarly. Ah, I can imagine myself with a pencil behind my ear (afterthought: why would I need a pencil if I've got a typewriter? ...anyway), wearing one of those smart black waistcoats, elbows resting on my beer belly, balding..oh or maybe distinguished silver flecks in my thick black hair!

Oh.

Something in my head just reminded me that I'm not an old man. Yet.

Well- anyway. You see what I mean now, right?

I don't think anyone's ever made a worse first impression.