Happy -Congrats, you squeezed out of a vagina today- day! Tra-la-la-la

This is one day out of three sixty five when I feel obligated to be happy.

The kicker? I am not.

Shouldn’t chirping birds awake me? Accompanied with a glorious sunrise, a picture perfect day and being surrounded by loved ones? Yet I feel more alone than ever. I used to revel in it. The disconnect appealed to me.

As I grow older(sadly), I have surmised that the cliche ‘No man is an island’ is somewhat true. But I have also realized that people are not my boundaries.

I have changed and I hope I reach a point of time in the near future where I learn to be okay with myself. I am certainly closer to that state than I ever was.

Here’s to being slightly weird and anti social! Here’s to still singing 90s songs in the shower!  Here’s to being miserable intermittently!  Here’s to defining a new normal! Here’s to an updated 15.0.3 version of me! I hope there are many more(versions) to come.

The thing I’m more perturbed about is the apparent lack of chocolates I received today.

Happy Birthday to me!

*Insert cliched pseudo-intellectual title here*

Raise your glass

in remembrance of a fool,

she loved because she could

she loathed because she should,

A rebel in essence

yet content beneath their presence,

she was the shadow

of a new dawn,

and the nothingness

surrounding the twinkling stars,

So she lived

on the fringes of humanity

with a bird’s eye view

of what her life could have been.

Life is not a box of chocolates

No matter how careful one is, being hurt is inevitable. Yes, one has to move on but that doesn’t make it any less painful. Be it love, family or friendship, each relationship leaves a mark.

It becomes harder to move on when there is no closure. Subtlety isn’t my strong suit. I can never be subtle or understand it. So, I hate when things are left unsaid. Why put on a show? It’s not going to help anyone. Just rip the band-aid off and let the wound heal.

Life isn’t like a box of chocolates. They have  everything written on the back! Flavour, ingredients, the presence of nuts, manufacturing address and other such things we ignore.

Life is like a big box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Yes, the little grey one looks funny and smells fishy but you eat it anyway. Life is a series of weirdly delightful and artfully obscure experiences.

Let curiosity kill you. You still have eight to go!

The End Of The Road

I’m struggling through an If-Then scenario currently. If I fail, then I…..

Two years without even a semblance of a suicidal thought balanced on a precarious ‘If’. Unbalanced more like.


And why shouldn’t I? I see no choice but a choice. I hear no evil but only the truth and that is the evilest.

Yes, it is my error and no, I absolutely refuse to carry the burden.

After all, existence is an arbitrary notion.


“On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
Qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout
Paraît que le bonheur est à portée de main
Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou”
Carla Bruni – Quelquun m’a dit

Dear Departed Soul

Nobody bothers anymore. Use and throw and then use again. Continuous cycle for infinity and beyond.

Friendship is just a word. Irony spews from F to P and hatred fills the potholes. Ignorance is unavoidable and narcissism is its soul. Selflessness demands an audience but is denied and ridiculed. “There is no place for you here”, they say.

Love gained but love lost. Indifference rules like a booze addled king.

So dear departed soul of mine, it is good that you left. Cruelty would not have been your forte. My Ego will replace you, a much better queen. She is blind to the sunshine, the rain, the stars and all other wondrous things in life. She thirsts for a pond, a lake, a mirror; only a reflection will appease her.

Background Noise

She tries to fly with the flock but a sword hangs above her,

of misgivings, distrust and compulsion

darkness she brings into the fray, they say

and abandon her, they do

onward she goes, a path unknown

in lesser worlds and amongst glorified seasons

contentious, capricious and notorious, she conquers,

So if you cannot be with them, be against them, little birdie.


Whenever we do something , we always have different possible scenarios at the back of our head so that even if we fail, it won’t come as a huge shock when it actually happens. Sometimes, we see success too, a vision of what we could be. These illusions are always at the back of our head, taunting us.



Surrounded by a cage of steel,

clipped wings sits on a perch,

adores the little luxuries of her existence,

chirps sweetly when they beckon,

little do they know

It’s all an act.


She flew! She flew! they scream,

an uneven sky beyond

an uneven landscape below, she’s trapped.

And she remains.