Arrggghhhh

I'm in an universal hate mode. I hate everything and everyone.  


I obsess over the Investigative report so much that I dreamt about getting this big scoop and everything, only to wake up and realise that I have nothing. I have cruel dreams like this all the time. My worst however is when I'm asleep on the train to Chennai and I dream that I'm coming back to Hyd for good and then, I wake up to see the squiggly wiggly letters that can only be tamil. It's so excruciatingly painful, I can't tell you. 


King Kong says I might be in the middle of a quarter life crisis. I think I'm in the midst of an existentialist angst. The same one I've been in since I was 14. 


I hate that I met the gang once, ladies and gentlemen, once in two and half years! And, might not again for twice that long. I wonder why I even bother. 


I say, all guys should wear across their hearts those trial-room thingies that say whether they are vacant/occupied.  At least then they'll know whichever f***ing side they are on so that idiots like me can stop falling for all the wrong ones. 

I don't want to be placed. I HATE news writing. The idea of working for a newspaper makes me want to search for a well that's not too smelly or depleted and jump in. I don't think I  want to work. Or study. Or get married. Or any of those things. 

I wanna go to a cooking school. Read pointlessly. Write stupid things. And watch movies. And learn kick boxing. And become pretty. And travel to a Himalayan retreat where I will have to meditate, and go seven days without speaking! Wow. See those are the kind of things I wanna do. Now, why is that so hard to understand ? And, so bloody unpardonable?

I hate this the most. Not having the guts to do the things I want.  


Right. So, I'm just going to be go back to worrying about that lame 1500 word paper on post-modernism and fascism that I gotta give in. When all I can think about is why I get the feeling that I'm going to die on the train to chennai tomorrow without doing any of these things. 

That, I guess, is my cue to stop writing.  A good night to you all.  Yes, those will be my last words.