Its one of those days, where there's not really much to write. Even if I try really hard, the farthest I can get to is write about all the lame stuff I did... which is something even I won't want to read, why would anyone else. Crappy crappy day to be writing ... anything for that matter. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe later today.
26/01/2011
25/01/2011
January 25
Dear Diary,
Its been an extremely long day. But as I hold the Holy-Afro in my hand, as the scented smoke swindles around from the burning end, my mind is constantly reminded of the million things I do not make time for to think about while I flutter around my days. And also the incredibly long sentences I write when I'm high...
While I'm high, listened to the tunes.
And the rest falls into place.
Its been an extremely long day. But as I hold the Holy-Afro in my hand, as the scented smoke swindles around from the burning end, my mind is constantly reminded of the million things I do not make time for to think about while I flutter around my days. And also the incredibly long sentences I write when I'm high...
While I'm high, listened to the tunes.
And the rest falls into place.
24/01/2011
24.11.2011 Later that day...
... a friend left me. Its always hard to put words to feelings, when I all really want to do is bury my face in the pillow and hopeto muffle my sobs. I can't imagine her not being there anymore.
I was only ten, when she was born. No one noticed, her mother was ageing, and her last two babies did not survive beyond the week. We thought it was smart to prepare for another tragic demise. But she fought quite the fight, and a week later we heard her mewl the first time. A white ball of fur, she staggered as I touched her tiny head. Another ten days later her eyes opened, and since then those eyes have never quit... until now. Fifteen years.
She has sashayed the neighbourhood with proud gait and undeniable grace. She has grown into our hearts. But the princess had favourites, she always preferred the company of gentlemen. She has always loved Dadu and Baba a little more than the rest of us. She would run to the door and wait for Baba to cuddle her every day when he came home from work. She would spend her days adoring Dadu, so much so that Thamma felt jealous. But then our princess grew old, something we thought, we hoped she had managed to avoid all these years. I suppose time catches up with everyone.
Tonight a friend left me. And tonight I lost a little part of me. Now only her memory remains.
I was only ten, when she was born. No one noticed, her mother was ageing, and her last two babies did not survive beyond the week. We thought it was smart to prepare for another tragic demise. But she fought quite the fight, and a week later we heard her mewl the first time. A white ball of fur, she staggered as I touched her tiny head. Another ten days later her eyes opened, and since then those eyes have never quit... until now. Fifteen years.
She has sashayed the neighbourhood with proud gait and undeniable grace. She has grown into our hearts. But the princess had favourites, she always preferred the company of gentlemen. She has always loved Dadu and Baba a little more than the rest of us. She would run to the door and wait for Baba to cuddle her every day when he came home from work. She would spend her days adoring Dadu, so much so that Thamma felt jealous. But then our princess grew old, something we thought, we hoped she had managed to avoid all these years. I suppose time catches up with everyone.
Tonight a friend left me. And tonight I lost a little part of me. Now only her memory remains.
23/01/2011
January 24th
Dear Diary,
Good morrow fellow netizens! Woke up before anyone else did. I don't know why. Maybe the end is near, so my mind wants to make up for all the lost time. I have no clue what 'early-morning' activities are, I'm not used to or aware of such things. I'm sorry, I shall experience more, from now on, or maybe next week.
I'll have to run to my BossNess in an hour. I'll drop by later.
January 23rd
Dear Diary,
I have taken a huge step. I have decided that writing for an audience is better than scribbling in a note-book hoping nobody ever finds out. Instead, I want everyone to find out... and see for themselves how abnormally normal we all aspire to be. Ultimately at least, even we don't really believe in it right away. Its always difficult having to see a matter for itself, not having anyone to blame if in case anything goes wrong. Which definitely does. At some point.
So now, even there is no real audience, I shall pour my dark little heart out. I hope cyber-reality can cope up.
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