You know what I realized - at 23 there are so many people out there who are:

- Way cooler than me (just in the mind)
- Have seen All of europe
- Have creatively satisfying jobs
- Have better written/verbal skills
- Have a better voice than me / are a part of a band
- Are better looking than me
- Have a better home
- Have more money
- Have the luxury to make trips, shop till they drop, can creatively do up their apartments etc

And me on the other hand,

- I have a single digit bank balance right now (end of the month)
- Live in a box for an apartment in the world's dirtiest city
- Am plumpety, plump, plump.
- Have to think 200 hundred times about what I write, and whether it's any good
- Often have to speak twice because autowallahs don't hear me at first go
- My room's like.. dust just wiped off superficially, and a mattress thrown in the corner
- The only color in my house is because of roommate
- Don't have a good perfume, shoes are wrapped in plastic bags so they don't catch fungus, and I wear one pair of sloppy purple flops that make my feet dirty all the time
- Have a job that pays me to make .. PPTs (okay it's more than that, but very little creative input and more flaff really)
- No clothes to boast about
- Can't sing much anyway



Where is my life going? Why isn't anything right?

There's a mustard-like stain on my white shirt.

Those bouncing mirrors of crimson and bottle-green on my earring are speaking to me- "beauty is only skin deep. Use me, you need ornamental beautification"

I have a small cut on my lip because I bit my nail to uneven-ness and decided to scratch my lip. Karma, methinks.

I harbour warped notions- describing my surroundings in a self-deprecating manner might bring about a creative brainwave within me.

Ulp.

What am I going to with half baked thoughts and half formed words?

Come on, creativity. Where have you walked away, leaving me with the incorrect spelling of inspeeeration?