Sunday, November 22, 2009

Sometimes I wish It were only easier to express oneself in cliches. There would be a drastic decrease in complication and the pressure would become dispensable.

Let's treat that as an aside.

There's so much more left to say, and I would have proposed it a long time ago had I known the potential has crossed his mind, too. I want to dump this whole situation into my "latest confusing things that donot deserve more than 5 minutes of my time" box, but I keep going back there and collecting it all, trying to fit it into my small tattered pocket.

Today I was telling a friend how the usual delusions that come with intense emotions have ceased to mark their place in my head. I was, am and always will be clear on the state of things.

Let's give neurotic, idealistic and romanticized me a name. How about "Z"?
Z has made itself a small little hut in my heart, knowing that it is in a minority. Every now and then, though, the motherfucker pops it's head out and screams in this shrill voice about how it is never heard and always sidelined. There's no point trying to make it understand about things right and wrong, about convenience and pragmatism. So every now and then, I let it speak it's heart out, and let it have one day of being who it really wants to be. Secretly, I enjoy the feeling.

Tomorrow I will have to get out of the other side of the bed and pretend as if the smile on my face is merely because of the shining sun.