You are yet another dose of dopamine that wears out leaving me colder than before. As I pop pills like tic tacs in the single digit temperatures of the night I wonder if I know anything for sure anymore. You, me and this.. A beautiful firework that fades into nothing but ashes and smoke and I like a little kid still stare at the velvet blue sky,wishing I had made you some breakfast the last time.

                                            
                          And if I am abusing too much, and not being creative about their use...know that, what I really need to do is have a good cry.

"What if i told you that every guy i supposedly fell in love with was just to get over some other guy i couldn't stand to be in love with.

My indecision has become my definition of myself.
I cannot stick to any thing.I change my mind every hour.I make excuses for not being focused.

To me life feels like a terminal disease or a fatal accident waiting to happen, so i don't see the point of anything you see.I find the idea of sex repulsive, masturbation gross and pathetic.I would be drunk every day if I could.Its just that i don't have the means and the people i live with would throw me out if i was in to drugs and alcohol that i don't do it.
I cultivate sadness to punish myself for small little things which I don't know why I can't just let go of.I hurt people sometimes just to help me justify the hurt I will later do onto myself.Its been years since I made friends with anybody, i mean really friends.Its been years since I tried to do something new.
I am addicted to pain,sadness and negativity.Loneliness helps to keep all these things on.
I have this unexplained self hatred that I don't know how to deal with.
I don't know if am good at anything in life, i have no dreams, no ambitions.I just like eating food, sleeping and watching t.v.I can't even cross the road easily, i don't even know how to light matchsticks, i waste half a dozen before being able to light one.On my worst days I just want to cut myself and bleed, yes that's the real reason why i donate blood so frequently.
I can whine and complain and criticize.I don't have the will or the courage to even give doing something about things a thought.I can justify my procrastination ,my excuses in the most fancy lines but the truth is i am just a quitter.i just lost all the reason to live, and i mean really live, long time ago and i have become so comfortable and used to being like this that i don't remember being any other way.
I have a bad attitude.I hate people most days of my life.I hate life most days of my life.I am a cold hearted selfish bitch mostly.To add to it I am arrogant and apathetic.I mostly pretend to listen to people but I don't really listen to them.
And when someone even comes close to reaching out to me, I muff out what they are trying to say to me by this psych rant which i have basically been doing again right now.
There,what do you think of me now huh???"

"I don't know."

"Precisely.
Lets just pretend we never had this conversation okay??"

"whatever, it has never been my call, has it??"

"fuck you."

She can see herself…she can see her running shoes…feel her shoes bouncing off the metaled road that runs through the woods …the road..curving…rising…falling….the deodar trees that seem to be disappearing in the sky…the orange morning sunshine scattering through the branches and the needles…the sky changing its shade every minute….the still thin cold mountain air…she’s running fast now…and she can hear the pounding of her heart above the music through her headphones....and then suddenly she’s back…
The air is cold because the Boss just turned up the cooling…
She’s in the office…a place where everyday her necrophobic dreams plead her to runaway and never come back.
People work here…People keep calling people for work and numbers are dialed on speaker phones…the phones keep ringing….most days the caller tunes make the office sound like some trash radio station..

She works in a telecom company…and she hates phones. It wasn’t like that from the start..but today..don’t know why , she doesn’t like them anymore.
May be she’s been waiting too long for a phone call that she knows is never going to come…may be the phone just reminds her too much of him….his voice…her laughter ...the bad singing in the mornings ..and the sounds of his breathing while he fell asleep talking to her sometimes..
She hates it all today…the messages have replaced letters …and conversations have reduced to sms chat’s…she wishes she had been born in an earlier time, a time before the phones and the internet.
The mails, the messages, the six hour long phone conversations were nothing short of real art ….and today nothing remains of them.
May be if they had been something more tangible…if they had been on paper…if they had been more real…in flesh and sound …more life in them…may be then she would still remember them more vividly…may then she could feel them even when they are gone…may be then deleting them wouldn’t have be so easy and permanent as a click of a mouse or a compression on the keypad or touch on the screen of a phone..
Love and art..neither had survived. ..what disturbs her is that she feels bad for the lost art…not the lost love…may be she is a terrible human being …may be love and art is the same for her.
May be she should change her phone…but there’s no point …she already feels like throwing it away or running it under a wheel….and buying a new one won’t change the way she feels…and just in case if someday she actually flings it away…she’d rather be flinging a cheaper model…she laughs at herself…okay half a smile…but that’s not bad to start with.

I asked my God about you today.
He said you were okay.
He said that He'd take care of you.
He said that He'd do something about it.
So don't worry...we're in excellent hands.

Regret

Even on my worst days
the only real regret i have in life,
is that i didn't hug you when i had the chance to

You see i had broken everything i had touched before
and i didn't want to break you.

They later told me,I broke you anyway.

some times i feel I'm a letter making my way to you through bad weather
and the ink of the letters is getting all faded and washed
the paper is becoming crumpled and dirty and a little torn
and i wonder if you'll be able to make out what i was meant to say
just remember
i was a love letter.
a beautiful one.

i cant talk

words,phrases,sentences
notes,tunes,songs,
drawings,pictures,videos
whisper,talk,screams,shout
smile,frown,tears

nothing is helping me.

im here quietly waiting for it to comeback.

my silence,my apathy is not my choice

im sorry, i cant talk.

im going to get through.
dont know how...inspite of all.
i know i've been making the same mistakes yet again...the self destructive pattern repeats itself...but this time im not going to crash, im not going to let go.
im not going to let how i feel get in the way of what i deserve.
im going to get through.

A Waste

And you will think i did not care,
And you will think I did not know how you felt,
You will think I don’t see that look in your eyes when you still look at me..
And you can think all you want to think,
And hate me for it..
And I wish I was at your place coz God I know hate is so much more comfortable..
I wish I could think like you…how I wish..
And this whole thing will be like pictures we click and delete…the ones we never save or print,
It will be like a song or a poem written and thrown away as a crumpled ball of paper in the waste paper basket,
An unrecoverable file deleted permanently..
Tickets we bought for a show none of us could make it to…
And we will deny that we knew each other and live and believe the lie that we never met.
And you will be okay,
Everything in your life will be okay,
Except sometimes when you look at your reflection all you will see is me.

The Excuse

"You wont be the person you are in the years to come and I wont be who I am today...so what’s the whole point of it???"

if every moment you feel you should be some place else,doing something else,being somebody else,with someone else,
if ur on a path that leads to th opposite direction of wer u actually wanna go,
if everything you want to say is lost in translation to a language you cannot learn,
if u are haunted by urself,wat u are, wat u used to be, wat u will b,
if ur bent on self destruction,self abuse..and have become so addicted t pain tht u dont remember wat it feels to b right,
if youv craved for normalancy,stability,peace more than anything,
dont worry Im with you..

realisations at midnight

love is simple.faith in God is simple..rest of th things are complicated..dreams are simple..belief is simple...give me these things..give me my simplicity back and clear the confusion...tht bursts my head tonight..
wat if everything is a coincidence...everything love,beauty,gr8tness..is accidental...and y does sacrifice and tragedy hav to underline greatness....im i finding more meaning 2 life than ther actually is..
wat am i afraid of..i am afraid of not being enough..im afraid of being afraid...im afraid of things not turning right at th end..i am afraid of dying alone..i am afraid f never falling in love...i am afraid of not living enough..not writing enough..not doing enough.not seeing enough..to say...i lived...bt th question is hw much nd wat is enough for me???