That's Me In The Corner

I used to be this:

Carefree, up-for-anything, whiskey-drinking, cigarette-smoking, jumping, dancing, screaming idiot.

I was fun.

Now, I'm this:

Or rather, this:

I'm all about getting into a good college, and *shudder* the future and baking stupid (albeit delicious) cherry pies. I used Kirsch in the pie, and a bit of vodka in the crust and I didn't even take a swig.










I was watching a friend's concert the other night, and I wondered how this happened.


When did I get off the stage and become a part of the audience?

Men.

Boyfriend and I were laying in bed, post-coitus, today. We were listening to Chopin's Symphony No. 7, a waltz.

My head was on his shoulder, and my hand on his chest.

"I can feel your heart-beat," I said.

He looked into my eyes, put his hand on my chest and said, "I can feel your boobs".

:-|

Men.

Jimmy Says It's Better Thaa-aa-aan Air

I don't love to smoke, nor do I crave cigarettes. I'm not addicted, but sometimes, I like being alone with a cigarette.

I can see the highway from my balcony. Trucks trundle past, bathed in the orange light. When I'm not wearing my glasses, they look like orbs of orange, floating away into the distance.

Tonight, the air smells like rain. Lightening lights up the sky every so often. 

I have Green Day and Pearl Jam playing, but only the slower songs.

I have a cigarette with a tiny filter. The ones with the small filters are smooth like you wouldn't believe. I almost don't even feel the smoke going down my throat, except for the woody taste. So here I stand, mouth open, lungs full, for a moment. As I exhale, and watch the steady stream of smoke escape into the night, I feel the light-headed nicotine rush you only get once in a while. The smoke is orange in the faint light of the streetlamp. The ash-y smell tastes like so many nights before.

Sometimes, you have to just exist. Let everything go. Stop thinking. Stop caring.

Just be.

Out of body and out of mind
Kiss the demons out of my dreams
I get the funny feeling, that’s alright
Jimmy says its better than air

Always Only Average

I got my final report today. It made me realize something.  


I’m average. 


I’m a 75%. I’m not fit, but not morbidly obese. I’m not a terrible writer, but I’m by no means a great one. I’m a good cook, but I have enough failed dishes to cancel out my spectacular ones. I don’t fit in either BD I or BD II. Mixed episode is the keyword. Not one or the other, just a bit of both.  


I’m not a bad person, but I’m no fucking angel either. I’m not a great girlfriend, and I try to fix that every day, but hey - at least I’m not a total bitch.


I’m stuck somewhere here in the middle. I can go up or down. No incentive for either. I have no drive, no motivation, no hope, because my life isn’t bad enough. I have no satiety, no calm, no fulfilment, because I’m just not good enough. So I’m stuck here. I’m not special. I’m not a beautiful and unique snowflake. I’m the same decaying organic matter as everything else. I have no where to go from here. Not up or down. Fight Club hits me whenever I uncover a truth. Tyler Durden says “Only after disaster can we be resurrected.”.


I’m average. I don’t have a disaster, or a resurrection.

The little things,  little things they always hang around  
The little things  little things they try to break me down  
The little things  little things they just wont go away  
The littles things  little things made me who I am today  

Better Off On My Own

I have wasted a large majority of my life simply taking the shit people throw at me.
I'm weak that way, and I recognize it. I crave approval. I will go out of my way to do nice things for these people, for their acceptance. But not just for their acceptance alone. I do it because I genuinely care for them. I enjoy doing nice things for them. I enjoy making them happy.

I realize now, though, that I can't keep living my life like this. There's no point trying to keep a flame alive if it's dead. I don't need to take the constant shit, and the pain and humiliation. I'm fairly certain I'd do fine without them.

So I'm through. I'm through running after them, trying to please them, trying to make them happy. It's not my job to guarantee their happiness when they can't even deign to be nice to me.

This is my 'FUCK YOU'.
If you don't want me, I don't have to give myself to you.


I tried to be perfect, but nothing was worth it,
I don’t believe it makes me real.
I thought it’d be easy, but no one believes me,
I meant all the things I said.


If you believe it’s in my soul,
I’d say all the words that I know
Just to see if it would show,
That I'm trying to let you know,


That I’m better off on my own.

A Throbbing Toothache Of The Mind

I've been listening to St. Jimmy by Green Day. I don't care what people think about Green Day and people who listen to Green Day and skinny chicks with dark make up and All Stars.

Green Day is good and it's good cuz it doesn't give much of a fuck and just makes their fucking music. And god damn it do they make music. There's a difference between singing songs and really putting your fucking soul into the music.

American Idiot, despite the fame is bought Green Day and how far it was from Nimrod and Dookie, was still a great fucking album. Jesus of Suburbia was my anthem for years. Are We The Waiting was so real. Give Me Novacaine was pure fucking soul.

The story was so good.

I like Green Day. I like having my own fucking opinion and not getting influenced by other people too.

I like Green Day.
I think whether I do drugs(I use the term loosely, to include anything I might want to do) or not is my fucking decision.
I like giving a shit. I don't like being indifferent. I like caring about the environment, and I like knowing what's happening in Sudan and I think the UN really is making an effort.
I don't like to 'party' and I don't have to. I like spending time with myself and that's okay.
Only when you discover yourself can you discover others.
I fucking hate fashion.
I'm sick of wearing heels.
I like art, but I don't give a shit about the Mona Lisa.
I'd rather walk down Hauz Khas Village than the Louvre.
I'd like to give myself a chance, not you.
Not any of you.