I live with the butterflies these days. Fluttering into every arena that seems flattering. They come and go, just as these convenient moods. How do I pick? Do I want to pick? Will I only pick once I find something worth picking?
These butterflies. They fly. They fly all around my stomach. Someday, the anticipation will strangle me. It's a very weird kind of anticipation, really. The kind where I know something "blow-me-out-of-my-mind" is coming up, but it makes me low to know that it isn't here yet.
The eternal find, I say. How do you know what to pick when it's a find, alright, but a find that is not defined?
And what's the deal with judgements? They just never leave your back, do they?
You judge yourself a lot more than you think you do. And then the decisions either fall short or just don't match up.
It's a web of complications.
Sometimes they exhilarate you, sometimes they make you restless.
I like them. I like them very much.
Just.. walk faster, will you? Or catch the bus. I'll pay for the fare?

What is this urgency to achieve the intangible? It spells nothing but absurd, really. I should know better than that. There is something really wrong if I pep talk myself in first person.

This is a very interesting rut. I know exactly what the problem is. "It's not so much the person but you fighting to get want you want out of them."

Too many things piling on, you know. How do you deal with a string of contrasting situations? Some important, some not important. And then you give yourself a hard time about paying attention to the insignificant ones, and pay no heed to the situations that are demanding immediate attention.

I am aware. There is no action, but.

I can't seem to move out of it.

Help? (gulp)

This cannot be happening, again.

It feels weird to have those very leaves, that once blew through your hair without leaving a trace, to come back and stick to your face even when there is no humidity to play the catalyst.

It rained today. I didn't feel any different. Seems like there's this repeated bag of emotions that I keep toying around with. I wake up in the morning as if to virtually, take my pick of an emotion. I have to confess that I pick my favorites. Not that ones that always make me feel better; I play by the rules. I pick complimentary emotions. They bring out the essence of me. And I like that journey of self discovery.

But, more often than not, there is a inconsistent repetition. I am tired of fighting this battle with language. I am tired of trying to put down into words the unconventional mix of emotions that get translated into syntax and grammar. Non-verbal art that way is so much better. There can be various dimensions. Words are restricting. I have immense respect for those who manage to articulate within the limited set resources.

I must curb this habit of meandering into different tunnels of thought. I don't particularly appreciate this repetition: in thought, in emotion and in situation. They say I bring it on myself. Nothing is happening. You know? Maybe it's much more than what comes off on face value.

Who can every say? Who can ever know?

Scary, much?

Draught. Draught. Draught.

It's the reason behind all this mess. And all this fluctuation in mood swings.

Everyone loves a Scandal. A Controversy.
Everyone loves a fight. The nastier, the better.
Everyone loves to see somebody pine for them.
Everyone loves to have a stalker.
Everyone loves their respective guilty pleasures, their secretive indulgences.
Everyone loves a piece of gossip. We'd even go out of our way to prove it happened if it's just a rumour.
Everyone loves a conversation filled with wit and sarcasm.
Everyone loves to watch a life threatening challenge being implemented. Some like taking a challenge. Some like exclaiming that they'd have done a better job, while sitting on their couch eating potato chips.
Everyone would love to believe that with the AXE effect, a billion girls would run towards them.

Everyone loves the excitement of being. It depends on how you see it.