We make Paisa, not Cents.

We're Indian, aren't we? My friend is a genius. A comic genius. I tell her I'm depressed. She gives me her hypothesis. I say it makes sense. She says "We're Indian re. We make paisa, not cents."

We are all either totally 'forever alone' or we're the undiscovered absolution of human evolution. I'll stick to the latter. Makes me feel better. 

C'est La Vie

This really killed me. A friend of mine found this on Tumblr, and she showed it to me, and it just killed me. You are like a limb, and organ, or blood. I'm going to be cliched as hell about this, but hey! They don't call French the language of love for nothing do they? Oh and I love typewriters. I've used one of them, and they're much more fun to use than keyboards. Try to if you get a chance.

Reality is Overrated

I was walking home from school today. I was listening to a particular music group. I closed my eyes for a second. Then that happened.

I felt the bass kick in time to my heartbeat. I felt the melody become my breath. I felt myself become the music. I opened my eyes to my reality. Where buildings were flying, explosions were all around me. The world was in a constant state of motion. It was fluid. It was alive. I was alive.

The pain and the angst all gone. All my suffering gone. I kept walking on a road that had ceased to exist. The sky had turned blood red. I was walking on neon blue light. Every single step I took shook the earth and shattered glass. It wasn't destruction. It was the creation of something. Something bigger than me. I was awed by it. I could see sound, I could hear light. It was a psychedelic mindfuck, but I loved it. I could see people now. I could see people I wanted to share my reality with. It was empowering. I could feel them, hear them, see them. It was everything I lived for. Everything I wanted. Everything I had.

My reality. My existence. Where I am. Where I will be. Find me if you can, and I'll show you the most amazing things. Beyond your wildest dreams.

I'm radioactive. 

Wishful Thinking

It's far to early in the morning
To be trying to call you

It's far to early in the daytime
To keep thinking about you

But I, but I am

Wishful thinking is a powerful thing, I said to her. She asked me to elaborate. The though of it is scary. Really. I've tried and failed enough times already.

She wrote about a guy, I wished it was me. Simple as that. I can't tell it to her, because I'm legitimately afraid of doing that. It's not easy to tell someone like her something like that. I'm afraid it'll ruin everything I tried to create. I'm scared of thinking about it.

I'm such a failure :/

Up and Down the Hall.

It's really confusing. Everything. In general. Nothing about life really makes sense. Sometimes, I begin to question this though. I wonder about what causes this confusion. Maybe it's a grand design? Maybe it's all about learning? Maybe it's about going on a quest of self realisation? Or maybe I just don't know what the fuck to do. I'm sticking with the fourth. Just seems significantly more probable than any of the other three.

On a side note though, today was a Monday. And I had a Physics test. On a Monday. Really school? Really? It's bloody stupid. A Physics test. On a Monday. Okay. I just  can't over this.

Oh am I sane?

Disapointment and Exams are Always Related.

I was supposed to go for the Norah Jones concert on the third of March with a couple of friends and I was really excited and things. Naturally, my final exams for this year had to start on the first. Well..

It's really annoying. It happens practically every year. Towards the summer.

Oh well. Next year maybe.

Just for the Sake of It?

YOLO

Really? I'm not so sure. Maybe you live once. Maybe you don't live at all. Maybe it's like that amazing movie I've forgotten about, in which the plot is that it's just all a dream in a cryogenic chamber somewhere in outer space. Maybe we all live our own versions of life, oblivious to everyone else. Just like Inception, no?

I've always thought about it this way. I've always thought that there IS a 'rewind' button where life is concerned, just waiting to be found. Maybe we're all better off without it. Ironically, I've always been happier when I've messed up, and had to face reality.

Well maybe it's just like Halo. You die and you re-spawn. 

The Blind Cats of Paradise

People are interesting. Well, a fair few of them. They make sense. They really do. Speaking to people is fun. People you can connect to. People you may not know, but people you want to. Paradise is a strange place. I've always had issues believing it exists. In a world like this where everything goes wrong and everyone turns sour. You do find it though. It's like that one little needle in a haystack. They say it's impossible to find that needle. It's too small. It's camouflaged. It's to elusive. Can I tell you a secret? I just used a magnet.

Finding people, or being found by people is an amazing experience. Just knowing that you're not alone on this alien planet, bent in a warped, psychotic rampage to destroy everything pure. They say you find that one person. I say there's people all around you. Just look around you. You will find them. We will find you. 

Green Shorts and Pink Shoes.

The other Saturday, I met someone. I'm not going to bother talking about who or why, but I just did. I met someone the other Saturday. Green shorts and pink shoes. A place that moved in circles, a head that moved in circles. Conversation that was going nowhere, but we were going everywhere. Muffins and cupcakes. Science, Religion, Philosophy, Literature. Defying everything and protecting it. Confusion. Hysteria. Laughter. A warm smile. That's all I remember. Someone met me the other Saturday.