The blogging world is dead. My obsolete orkut account must have more activity than my dashboard these days. Excusetheexaggeration. But really, what the hell? Where is every body? -___-
Anyway. That being said, time to whine about other things.
Had one of my recurring dreams again today. Crash and burn. I was also a princess and excited to be one. I'm studying about coxsackie viruses and also thinking about what made Sylvia plath put her head in the oven. I'm grateful to God that I have matured enough to feel love for my parents, the kind that breaks my heart. And also for the little nap between a heavy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Mom told me that our old chaukidar baba, as we used to call him is really sick and she was thinking of going to visit him. We spent two minutes reminiscing about him but dropped the topic before either of us could tear up. I was never this prone to allergy. It's like one day I was sleeping and someone injected me with a truck full of IgE antibodies. I'll never be the same. I wish water had caffeine. Yuck. No. Cosmic love. Is exactly the amount of grand I want it to be. And Grace kelly makes me happy like a bird. I've always imagined ichor to be like mercury. Imagine that running through your veins. Do not bring my sour side out my friends. I don't like it either. Teray tun main, teray mun main, teray ghar ko aag lag jaaye, aur tujhe jaag na aaye. Memories. Beautiful and rich. Warm. Like cookies right out of the oven with cream. The brain will take what it can take. Conversations turning into white haze. Fuel and fire. I love the sound a xylophone makes. My cousin used to own one and how envious I was. I still remember the white closet full of all the toys she had. Problem with me is. I try to imagine everybody's life. Get into their skin. Atticus finch, you made an impression. When I was fourteen I read books that I was too young for perhaps. Dad doesn't understand my love for white chocolate and chocolate mint. Oh well.