Tuesday, November 10

The End

It's not anything like they say. Heartbreak. It's not about craving for that person. Not about wanting to be with them. No. It's all about pain. The kind of gut churning, stomach wrenching pain that'll claw at your insides until you want to curl into a tight ball and die. Nothing makes it better. Not, being with someone else. Not, being with that person. Nothing.

Every moment, a memory will surface. Something he said. Something he likes. Something that didn't fit. Something that suddenly fit. And then you think of him with someone else. It hits you. Everything that was between you was a lie, a dirty little secret. Realising that you were not even the real thing, that your heart was just collateral damage.

So, all you do is sit and watch while it's being torn apart. Scrap by Scrap. It's killing. But you already know that's what you want; for it to die. Forever. And, with it, the pain. Now, there's nothing there. Just a gaping black hole.

As the haze of the pain lifts, a catharsis dawns on you. It is finally over.

Monday, November 2

Here and There

It was mad, the wedding. For most of it, I was like WTF, you know? Because, by the time my plane landed and I got to the hotel, things were already under way; for all my careful planning, I appear in a T-shirt and cargos in all the wedding pictures! And when I finally wore the pretty blue and golden dress and then the plum coloured sari? Nothing. It got too chaotic and none of us had any time for snaps. Don't even get me started on the designated photographer; he was such an asshole.

But I'll tell you this. For all the craziness that the wedding was, there was this one moment, the actual tying of the knot (when the guy dropped a soft kiss on her bent head) -- it was so beautiful, I went all "Awwww". There it was, the whole point of the goddamned circus. Made me all warm and cushy inside.

Apart from that, it was a terrible ordeal. I now officially hate flying. Usually, every time I see a plane in the sky, I want to be on it, going to whereever it's heading. But on this trip, both times, I was all like, c' already! One way, I sat next to a Gora who I'm pretty sure molested me while I fell sleep in my seat. On the way back, I sat next to a techie, who has facebooked me and now sends me messages everyday. Do yourselves a favour, don't be a moron like me and use your boarding pass as a book mark. It's plain stupid. In fact, don't read. Plug in your ear phones and don't make conversation, yes, even while you eat!

Why do I attract these types anyway? Why? OMG, he might even be reading this as I write. As has been often proven in the past, the blog is certainly not one of my best kept secrets. If you are indeed reading this, dear stalker, please chip in here. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. But I don't accept any compliments, comments, questions, tags that reach me in person or by e-mail. The comments column, believe it or not, works. The zero comments record is because I also attracts other types of perverts, in this case - voyeurs. But don't let that discourage you. Comment on.

I know I should give in and sleep. Okay! Fine, I'll go. Just wanted to put it all on record before the week was out. I do also have an early morning class, come to think of it. So, just the last couple of things here then.

I'm doing my dissertation on the Holocaust. Yeah, don't ask me how I got there. I had it all planned, I swear. So, I went to submit my proposal on Michael Jackson and somehow ended up with Nuclear Armageddon. What can I say? My plans usually take little detours because I'm ummm, what they call spontaneous, and I always go with my instincts. Whichever takes control of me at the moment. Even if I go blue in the face cursing and regretting it for the rest of my life after.

I read Shantaram a couple of weeks ago and I can't stop thinking about it. Everybody I know has read about half of it and given up. I can't explain why I am so hooked onto it. Oh yes, I do want to write like that. But it's more. I've been looking up the author every chance I get. I read his interviews. I watch his videos on You Tube. And, I've developed an unhealthy interest in heroin. But most importantly, here's the thought that's been nagging away at me - how would it be to throw away everything I've built in my life and just let go.

Why do I want, more than anything else, to find out?