Sunday, 14 December 2014

Call Me Crazy!

If I jotted down all of my thoughts people would call me a raving lunatic. Good thing I am lazy! My sister actually thinks I am one and leaves no opportunity to chance to comment on my being a loony tune. But that’s forgivable. What are siblings for anyway? However, there’s something that’s been bothering me for quite some time now. I think it would be better if I just said it out aloud once and for all.

I think I am crazy.

Actually No. I don’t think that I am crazy just that I say I am crazy so that you might not find my crazy activities too crazy or weird. Anyways, considering the deadly simple life I lead with no crazy activity during the whole day or night for that matter, how can I call myself crazy. I am just being humble here, nothing else and… and… and… trying not to be a little too critical of me as I mostly am.

So, why did I say that I am crazy to begin with?

That’s because I sometimes think I am crazy. Scratch that!

I think I am crazy most of the times.


Because I am always trying to judge myself from the normal standards. But then what if those normal standards are crazy and that I am normal?

Frustrated? Don’t know what the crazy heck am I rambling about?

Courtesy: Objectivised/Creative Commons/Flickr

Don’t worry! This piece of writing isn't going to be that long. How do I know that? Call me crazy, I was only trying to hold you so that you might read this worthless monologue which was supposed to say something, but in all honesty is turning out to be a really pointless piece of crap with nothing to say except for a shit load of words!

You’re asking me to do something?


You want me to think, improvise and lend it some meaning?

But what can I do?

I can’t. You see, I am having fun writing something pointless and seeing how words can just be wasted without having to mean something! It is awesome. I’m feeling awesome! I feel so awesome that I wanna draw a smiley though this page and do a happy rumba, though it might look totally ridiculous here. 

Saturday, 13 December 2014

Love is Many Things...

“Love is many things, but mostly a remembrance of things past. It’s a memory of a time when you were young and naive. It’s a wisp- a figment that despite its immaterial condition makes you go on. And so, all your life you go ahead thinking of the past, trying to be that past.”

More often than I should care not, I dwell on this monosyllabic English word ‘Love’. More often than happiness it has been a major cause of concern and unnecessary tears. It has caused me to spend my attention on itself far too much. As I am growing, I regret it I think. But then I could easily have regretted not having it.

So what is love and what does it really mean to be in love and in a relationship? Is it the same thing? Or two different things connected by a cord so strong and unseen that you wind up considering them synonymous?

Honestly? I don’t know. 

All I know is that love is some emotion that makes you want to care for some person/persons much more than you do for the others. So is that it? Is that all? 

People say it’s the happiest thing you could ever have in your life. 

I remember being happy once.

think I have become disillusioned now. And I think I used to create too much drama about Love when really there was no need. I think I can love but to expect anything out of it is self-defeating. ‘I Love You’ only says ‘I’ love ‘you’, and not ‘you’ love ‘me’. My problem is that I assume ‘you love me’ goes hand in hand with ‘I love you’ like an unspoken complementary pact. So all I have to do to alleviate my problems is to love you without expecting anything from you back. Because really, to hope that you will do anything for me once, a hundred times, forever or never is just so horribly wrong. It is wrong on so, so many levels that it will be my demise if I did not change my perception of love.

You could do something for me, or you could not do, it doesn't matter anymore. But then why do I feel this pain in my heart? Like it’s been pierced and gouged. 

I think of you when I think of Love. Why are you so in my thoughts? Maybe it is not you I am speaking to. Maybe it’s your face that masks my imaginary friend.

Courtesy: Daniella Brown/Creative Commons/Flickr

I am not strong. If what I think love is, then it is only for the strong. And I think it will perhaps come to me one day when my mind has become resilient enough to withstand you. 

Till then I am letting you go...