FEAR

Another morning, another day
And I'm scared
I'm scared of the first sunlight that touches my face and licks my arms a little
I'm scared of the honk that was made before I woke
I'm scared of the sudden hissing noise from the oven
I'm scared of my next door neighbour, who spits on my door and looks at me in a weird way
I'm scared of walking down the road behind my house, especially in a rainy day or when there's too much sun
I'm scared of the smile that I put on everyday, and scared of loosing it once in a while
I'm scared of that fat lady who once told me that I was wrong-what if she's right!
I'm scared of the fight that never occurred and the one I can't visualize
I'm scared of my tears and scared that would stop one day

I'm scared of being too close to you
I'm scared of you and scared of me...
I'm scared of the obvious loneliness implied by the fear of intimacy
I'm scared of being known, so as not to be judged and I am the one who judge myself most
I'm scared to be the odd one out...

I'm not scared of the nights though
Nights are all mine....
The almost silence, the distant sound of dogs barking, the hint of chilliness, the sense of world being in sleep, the reminiscing of memories, the being alone-ness (not loneliness)-they are all mine. And all through the night I keep wondering how wrong it would be to run away from this constant fear of the day, while waiting for the cruel sun again.

Stuck in Goa: Day Two

I am sitting by the pool tonight, alone again, naturally. There is no one else other than security gurds. I know I should also go back and get some sleep before I wake up again to catch my morning flight. But few more minutes, just a few more minutes...

Today was different. Today we went to a different beach, stayed there for an hour, then went to some nice fort-like place and finally to a cruise. The events were pretty good, but something was missing, and that something got me thinking...
But more on that later. I'll catch some sleep now and next stop Mumbai. :-)

Stuck in Goa: Day One

The rythmic sound of the waves in regular interval feels good on ear now. It's past 2 am. The beach is still full of artificial belongings of the shops nearby, but it's much less crowded and much more pleasant than what I experienced during day.
It was a long day! A long day since the moment i left my apartment to reach airport. The coffee at airport cafe, the first meeting with the unknowns, the 1 hour journey-everything seem like ages back now.
I had a total amount of 2 hours of sleep for the whole day. But unfortunately that's not the only reason for the day being so long. It's more of the fact that in last one & half year i never went to a trip where i'm not the planer. Moreover for this trip the planer having completely different view of having fun than me, made this day so much longer than usual.
But I always look forward to meet new people and every experience is precious to me. So this trip might become even a special one to me.
Meanwhile, i left the beach, reached hotel and placed myself carefully on the comfortable bed. So I'll sleep off now. Tomorrow i might write some more.

What a waste! :-D

In my 23 years I have done 230 years of thinking and now I feel like an old shit! And of course, my head hurts.

So today I want to give my brain a rest, or whatever is there in place of it. But I simply don't know how...

Tell me how do you stop your head from thinking...I tried to count numbers, then count them backwards and even counted them in Spanish. But after a while it all becomes monotonous and my brain jumps back to thinking again.

So if you come across my blog, could you please answer this question for me ‘how do you stop your head from thinking?’

Screw this

I am bored...bored of every word I've spoken so far; bored of the letters I scribbled down here; bored of the thoughts that I adhered once and then rewritten by another one; I am bored of finding meaningless meanings to life. Because at the end none of them really matters.
My friend says, 'burn your words, murder your stories'. Maybe that's what is needed. Just getting your ass out there and to live it. Stop blabbering about things you never felt. But be it. What you write, what you think is all wrong. If you were living it, you might not have to think after all. All philosophies should be removed from the pages that were wasted on it and make it real. Reality doesn't need a philosophy. Reality doesn't need anything, but just you, and me.

I wish I was an influential leader and my words could change a person's heart, his thinking. But I'm not. I wish I was a writer and people would read me with a ‘aww’ and consider me creative. I'll never be that. I wish I was a good friend to whom every friend could rely with their pains. I don't know how to be that. I am not even Julie Powell. All these letters, all these words-they are just mine. They will always be just mine. In fact time will even take me away from them. I won't recognize them anymore. Then why? Why this and why not just asking myself, who am I!

Who am I...

Who am I...

I am an ordinary girl in a big city, fighting everyday to believe that I'm worth!