It would not take me anything to sit-down and write an eloquent piece about my fomentations. But, I'd rather be with mediocre writing that lets me gain, than something so fragile that would break me.
What is it to wake up with a punctured soul? The grief the liberation of a cold early morning ride to and from Cantonment Railway Station brings? Do you have an idea?
It's not to do with dissatisfaction. It's insolence, absolute self-centredness, disregard and discourteousness, I have to face everyday that somehow stun me. Like this otherwise charming college junior, Sivaram, who assumes I have an answer to everything and asks me things, just anything, except if I could respond to them. Should I be rude and put my foot down on him? And then, some who in their silent rebel to fit-in and yet seem different-scared of their brittle selves, let their meat that grew with them through the years die in social acceptance. They're too heavy. I don't know if it's got to do with altruism, I wish they were out of such discordance.
Yea, how dare I say such things. I'm screwed up just fine. With all in the life running on the right path, but this stupid larger part of me that runs away from that blaming others for it. Dumbfuck.
As I say, my auscultation and being a bivouac is as pseud as my life. I'm so annoyed. Will anyone believe me when I say I sorely want to shed these? Bah.
Uh, get a life.
Stick out, people; it fucking clogs the shit.
Grand condescending applause. What a joke this is! Haha.
Uncomfortable madness! Just let go, you'll get over mania.
An attempt, nothing else. I don't want this to be judged/associated/even regarded.
Aside, Tottochan is such a wonder. Seemingly the only strong competition to Heidi. (Peter Pan is still too cluttered to compare with.)