You can never say "I am sorry, I didn't mean to do this" with enough conviction. How do you put it into words convincingly enough for the other person to understand?

I've been impulsive and selfish yet again. I wish I could articulate that I'm not a bad person and I'm just a bit immature, incapable of making wise decisions at the right time?

My solution?
I won't be impulsive in the future.

I was better off not being responsible for another person's feelings.

I'm not fit for relationships. And I am trying to say this with the least amount of self pity. I mean every word.

No more. No more of this.

But I thought when we heard the blues, and smoked on my terrace we were creating memories? Memories that you would miss eventually, maybe?
I have been accused of exaggerating a connection a little bit, only because I tend to get too involved. But are you telling me that those memories we had for over 8 months don't come back to you every now and then?

I don't speak from a lovesick viewpoint. I am talking about a pure connections. About having a good time, with a special friend. It's not too great when what you perceive as special seems a bit evaporated, especially when it seems like you're the only one who holds those memories at a treasured place.

I might not be able to make those memories again, maybe a part of my faith in friendship has gone. But to have some parts cut out with a knife, and not even thrown away, but placed in front of nonchalance, can be a bit hurtful.

Is friendship a figment of my imagination?

I wish I could write about pure pain. The purity of pain is almost divine in it's form. The real tears, the despair, the verse that drips of a flawless depression, the melodies that reek of everything grey, like a cloudy day with no rays, of any kind.

Pure pain can be as beautiful with regard to what it churns out, as a misty hilltop after a few drizzles, as a pure blue stream of water with a tinge of pebble-y refractions.

It's a romantic state. It's all about the romance, this pain. When you're down there, in the hollow pit of extreme moroseness, you create this little grey world of your own. You know it can only be an upward climb, but you'll stay there. The beauty of the state doesn't imply anything pleasing.
It's beautiful because it's miraculous.
It's beautiful because it pulls out of you some of the most pristine emotions, from the never-seen-before corners of your heart.

I wish I could write about this beauty, while in this beauty.
Just once, I wish i could find myself a place in that pit.
It's a bizarre request.
I just want to feel the pain to be able to create beauty.

Sometimes I wonder about the pointlessness of it all.

You're assured, you rejoice, you expect and you get disappointed.
You fight to be strong because you fear being called too sensitive.
You talk about growing up, because it's happening. Physically.
But can you really handle it?

You convince yourself to do it because it makes you feel nice.
What feels nice suddenly becomes a necessity.
All the convincing becomes the right thing to do.
And then when it comes and slaps you on the face, you wonder when it become so important?

It's pointless no?
All the expectations and battling with yourself to live through them?
I don't mean to say none of the expectations ever get fulfilled.
But what are we getting in return for taking the risk?

Is it really worth it?
Or are we just convincing ourselves that it is? For the momentary-ness of it all.

Stupid moments.
Stupid memories.
Stupid expectations.

Being bitter does not make me too sensitive. It's natural. Deal with it.

They all say your first internship is supposed to teach you about life, and how things will be once you step out.
This is it, I guess. I'm virtually not a student anymore, and even though my first internship is happening pretty late in life, it's here. And it's all and only me.

I wish there was a way for all interns to magically prove to the employers that they are awesome. Like maybe a powerpoint presentation on the things they are willing to do, and ideas. Which does not include writing CDs, or sealing packages that need to be sent.

I don't like all the adjectives synonymous with interns. I don't want to be percieved as a curious little over-ambitious fresher. I'm not. But on the flipside, I know it's not really smart to write off anything experience by a bad or negligible first day. Mine wasn't bad. It was just so.. blah.

I realize what kind of environment I would ideally want to work in. I wish I could get it back, it was perfect when I worked in my first newspaper, as an associate editor. It was an all students team, equal ambition, equal naivete and equal talent. I loved it.

I'm trying to figure out how much more random facebook surfing I can do before I lose my mind.
Thank god I have e books.

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more.

Yes, things might never be the same, for whatever reason.
And I've come to terms with it.
But i'll never hate you. Ever. I can't.
We have memories. And I love the memories.
Sorry, that's not slipping from my hand :)