Life Inside A Book...

The problem with people like me is that we want to have a life worth talking about, but even more, worth writing about.
People like me, we look for beauty in even ordinary everyday actions, motions, gestures, expressions.
We want to romanticise everything.
Lead a significant, not rich, not powerful mind you, but meaningful, poetic life, beautiful life enough to be shot in slow motion.
We want to have a certain magic in everything in life, even when life plain sucks, we desperately search for something that'll save us.
People like me want to lead lives where even a simple thought like, Mrs.Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself, is worthy of being the opening lines of a wonderful book.
Like we need to wow ourselves. A tall order.
People like me don't want to waste life living ordinary, plain, simple, common. It's the biggest nightmare, of not making anything of your life.

And then when we don't find it, we become miserable and waste away. Waste the same life that we want to adorn with the finest jewels.

Where Angels Fear To Tread...

I can never understand how a guy can hit on a girl who is very good friends with his girlfriend. How he can be hopeful even! Like, baffles me. Do guys think all women are stupid enough to put up with such crap or easy enough to have a little thing on the side, without any complaint, cheerfully? 

UnJumble My World...

Mountains. Happiness. Blue Sky. Laughter. Yellow Butterflies. Free. Field of Red Poppies. Love. Flowing River. Dreams. Clouds. Possibilities. Fragrant Earth. Smiles. White. Hands. Ribbons. Chase. Twinkling Eyes. Open. Heart. Rebirth. Song. Endless. Peace. Secrets. Checkered. Reach. Time. Warm. Wings. Soft. Golden. Morning. Circle. Kiss.

Happy Is As Happy Does...

We might think we can hide it from the world. Cover our imperfect lives with smart pleasant looking clothes, that we can hide our bitterness behind a bright smile, that we can blend in our tear stains with fresh makeup, but it's not so. Humans, much like dogs, can sniff it out in a second. The stench of our unhappy feelings will eventually rise through the fabrics of our bodies alerting passersby about our grief. And honestly, who wants to associate oneself with an unhappy person? Unless he/she is a good friend? Right? Yep. Don't think you can fool people by humming a tune when they walk just a little bit ahead of you to escape your grief laced breath. And don't blame the world.

Cruel. But true.

Two...

I dream a great deal. It's almost like I am living another life in my head.

Few Seconds In The Light...

It's funny how we see a relationship in retrospect. How we see a relationship in terms of how it ended. How easily we forget the first impressions, the unsure start of a relationship, its beautiful journey to love, all the happy days, all the warm moments, its blossoming, how it was while it lasted.

Why do we always remember it in terms of how it ended? What do you remember of your loved ones?

How should one remember a relationship? I think that is a better question.

*****
I think silence, however golden, is sometimes overrated. There are times when keeping quiet will do you more harm. Sometimes, it's good to speak out, empty your heart of its buried emotions.

Miserable Letters...

Maybe all the signs, all the words, all the warnings...maybe it's all always there. Maybe when you're in love, you just build this mechanism, where you ignore anything the one you love says that would make you unhappy. Your brain just automatically filters out words that might hurt, and blindfolds you when actions that might trigger panic take place. Gestures that might alert you.'Cause you don't want it to end, you foolishly imagine that it would go away if you closed your eyes. And you go on about life, with love in your heart, in a non-thinking phase, floating through days, building your air castles. And then one day, crash.

And then your take on the role of a psychologist and analyse every small thing, every small detail and you exclaim, astonished, "But how did I not see all this?" And you realise, the signs, they were always there. All along. You were just too much in love to notice.