Psychedelic Slippers

Once in a lifetime, you have to raise your hand, stand up and say “It’s done with”! It’s hard. Its hard to accept the need to do so, in the first place, its harder to raise your hand and make yourself stand, its even harder to find your voice when on your feet. But for that once, you have to do it. You have to do it for that tiny feeble voice that says ‘go on, you are right’.There are no reasons, just gut feelings, which tell you what should and shouldn’t be done. It hurts. Its like pulling off the cable and saying game over, when the other is probably enjoying the game. Sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you don’t. Love can make you believe the impossible. Love can make you do things and not do things. Love can drive you crazy. It’s all a matter of choice. Whether you choose to let love rule your life and run it, or whether you are adamant to get a grip on the reins. Whether you are content with the happiness in someone’s eyes or whether you need to feel it in your heart to...

Its been a hell of a time since i wrote something... well so here now we are... Writing is almost like puking for me. You wait till it gets to the brim, and you cant contain it within you any more, and have to pour it out. (okay skip this line if you find it gross) Before my fingers start battling against smileys let me get straight to where we began from. To read, run and laugh. We all have this something in us that we have to keep doing, something that keeps us senile, something that helps us retain that delicate balance of mind. I read. I read to absorb all that I can. Its a therapy of sorts. I love to get lost in the worlds of words. I could probably push myself to reading anything but i cannot laze on bed whole day, and do nothing but stare at words and ponder over them. When I read, I absorb, to ponder I need to walk. I need to walk and stare at things relative to me. I have to see things move to propel my thoughts. I have to walk to keep pace with my thoughts. My thou...

There’s always hope, till you don’t word it. You can always escape a good bye with a see you. You can rush the hug over the blaring horn of a bus. You tell yourself to look ahead when you are racing through a flashback. You dont hold hands cos they will be that difficult to let go. You laugh cos you know the tears wont stop once they start. You embrace a crowd and drown them all. Time stops... you leave a piece of you, and from then all the way through... hoping some day to trace back the pieces, and pick up from where you left....set the clock in motion!

too many "me"s... i read something hoping for some answers, i ended up with more questions. no its not helping. Its like there are multiple conflicting "you"s ( or should i say "me"s)... and then you search for something inside you there, and you find more "you"s ("me"s) and one moment u can relate to them all, and then next moment they are all different. if we were all created, and if the purpose of life was to get liberated, then why was this whole mess up the way its messed up. its as if u were part of some video game, and the designer kept adding complexities (to just amuse himself??) or may be make it tougher, but then isn it he who s leaving? what if this all is just a "matrix" or something vaguely similar... more like a huge trap, and you just got a find a way out. How does it feel to know that you are just here for the amusement of someone up there... the whole world something like a massive cock-fight... or some biza...

so let the engine roar push the pedal down i want the white lines on the highway to lead me out of town... ....the wanderer craves

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask ...

the inability to think would be a curse you d say, but then thats just the tranquiliser you need, to stop it from exploding. to freeze out the thoughts. To not feel... to not feel your own self living like something you hated, loathed, despised. Something you lived against. To not feel yourself "living" the way life meant to you, or to not even find "life" holding the same "value". to give up life as you knew it for a life the way its presumed to be, just for something thats supposed to be revered above all.... but then you do think, and you cant stop thinking, and that's why being a presumptuous careless bitch is much easier

'Give me your love' said she, 'Give me your dreams' said he 'Give me your pride' said she 'Give me your mind' said he

Its been like over a month now, a month of constant resistance…But the enemy is still strong. And the rising mercury for some reason unable to weaken him. We d thought it will come to our aid. The temperatures that was definitely an advantage counted, but it’s not working. New strategies need to be worked out. We are unable to understand how the enemy manages to mute out all voices, all sounds, till the sun is way above horizon. And it takes repeated THUDS to break the enemies sound trap. It started at the onset of winters, as we gradually allowed them into our rooms… they lay limply in a corner first, and then spread their expanse to engulf everything, glued us to them, kinda addicted. But little did we know that the enemy in disguise would someday turn so strong , and we would helplessly return to him every night, and stay there unable to release one from his grip. we do not have the strength yet to lift him and bury him deep down, ther’s a fear of another cold wave… what if one...

(what's said hardly matters) casual, unspecific everyday chit chat has an amazing healing power, a power over all the deep cuts by sharp words... remembrance is sometimes a curse... words long ago come back to pierce u, as broken promises, as afterthoughts, as moments wasted... i am blessed to forget. backtracking..... embracing silence again

i thought life hardens you, turns out its the other way round..... and there were dreams, and there was fire....and now just glints to experience my first real winter... its already cold inside, outside... dad says dependence on anything is not good. unrelated. -- a foetal recoil in a corner of the bed ; my blanket my mom, my teddy my confidante.... i have no issues with "love" as such just the limiting it to the scope of a "relationship", weighing it down with "expectations" *** on a brighter note... some people remind you why you are what you are.. after many days my words felt right, real, authentic. aft many days, talking felt like an unobstructed flow of thoughts. bubbled... saying thanks is sometimes, not the apt way to express your gratitude

memories are always triggered. like volcanoes... n then they erupt a lava of emotions. i d call them old feelings... i d tell me get over it, i d say all those things if it was any other day.... missing spiffer, missing buddy..... m scribbling with invisible ink over ma blank wishlist

how can someone else be a parameter that decides how contented u are with ur life? i wonder who put the notion in people's head that life is all about living for others, love is giving and such analogous bull shit. makes me feel sick. thoughts similar to these. i don't live for anyone, i live for me. i dont do things so that someone else should feel nice abt it, i do them cos i feel so. none of my actions spring from a thought that this is for someone else.... and if someone claims doing so is possible he s probably fooling himself. why do people try to fight things that are impossible to fight? "reality", "facts" for example...nostalgia is one thing, but wanting to walk back in time is quite another. and then the other extreme, where everything is "for the future".. there's jus no present. how can u claim to live when ur thoughts refuse to accept "today". (time travel is stil fiction) how can anything that compels u to reverse the te...

Trade-offs. used this term a couple o times couple o places. Dint think i d b using it in lifE as such. There's always a trade-off , between what's in your hand at right now, and what u wanna hold. Between what u can do, and what u wanna do. Between ur heart and ur head. Should there be? if we are a single entity, should what we feel be different from what we live? shouldn't life be bound by one philosophy, a single thought that runs through you, and reflects in everything that you do? Should there be a trade-off between being happy and making someone happy? Shouldn't it be the same? i can't understand compromises. I cant understand giving up something for something else. There cant be something less and something more... its either something o nothing. i cant understand why we sometimes fake ourselves. or we drift to believe that we are something else. why is inactivity so elusive? What can be achieved from endless conversations tat lead nowhere, head nowhere? Why ...

what if today is all that there is!! more like an infinite loop of "today's." what if today goes on forever and there is no tomorrow. no u, me --> us... :( "when we meet someone and fall in love, we have a sense that the whole universe is on our side. I saw this happen today, just as the sun went down.And yet if something goes wrong, there's nothing left. No herons, no distant music, not even the taste of his lips. How is it possible for the beauty that was there only minutes before to vanish so quickly?" -- Eleven Minutes, Paulo coelho

i have got so used to rambling on fb n twitter, that rambling out here has become very rare!! m in such a foul mood right now! like i can explode on the next person i come across... can feel the mercury in my head rising ... its just upto the rim. counting works, only til it drops a lil , n then i wonder why m counting so slow.... its like move, move, move... move to something fun, something better, something tat doesn't make me wanna convince u how miserable a soul on planet earth u are! i was ok a minute ago... a minute n a half ago. 2 minutes ago, n now m all ticked off!! like totally pissed with nothing that's something right now!!! uggghh !!! n the phone rings

jus thinkin drives u crazy at times. wats more scary losing someone or being driven insane by the thought of losing someone? why do we become more confused as we grow up... how do we define our wants n needs, or is it jus a blurred merge of one into the other... n we walk on it ...an obscure line that divides two nothings.

sometimes when you love someone too much, you tend to forget that you are two lives. you wish nature would bind you into one heart, one soul, one life, for eterenity.. it never happens n u just live ur part

was taking ma cousins studies the other day! she was muggin up this poem tat went "Crying only a little bit is no use. You must cry until your pillow is soaked! Then you can get up and laugh. Then you can jump in the shower and splash-splash-splash! Then you can throw open your window and, “Ha ha! ha ha!” And if the people say, “Hey, what’s going on up there?” “Ha ha!” sing back, “Happiness was hiding in the last tear! I wept it! Ha ha!”!!" when i first heard it, i wondered which crazy person wud think of putting a poem like tat in the 5th std text book! thinkin over it now.. it feels right! we speak of controlling emotions, of holding them, holding ourselves, but its more impt to let go sometimes! rightly to cry out til ur pillow is soaked! to sob n yell and to scream like hell.. to pray, to curse, to get it all out of u! we bottle up feelings, till either some day the explode, or lose context. but they stil remain within, cos we keep holdin on to them! tears are not a sign ...

nothing makes sense some times. even being sensible! y is the heart so difficult to understand. y sometimes we don make sense to ourselves! what is it that confuses us.. the us we are when we are with us, or the us when we are with "we" cn u be right n left at the same time? unless of course u r starin at urself in the mirror. (i guess tats probably the answer to the confusion!)