Mujhe sab ulta karne ka mann hai. Sab galat lag raha hai. I'm in one of those moods where I spent all day surfing the Sartorialist and hungrily devouring tumblrs. I'm in one of those moods where I dig through my drawers looking for the right outfit that will make me feel better but everything seems wrongwrongwrong. Don't want to wear anything that'll attract any attention (isn't that what I want all my outfits to do? Not attract attention? I wish I had a fabulous invisibility cloak that'd be totally badass but no one but me could see me when I wear it and I'd walk through the metro station blasting some song that makes me feel like a punk rock heroine and be happy and feel cool because the only person who could see me was me). (afterthought added) I'm in one of those moods when I don't want to have a conversation but know that this might go on the blog and I'll feel annoyed if it will because I don't want to have a conversation and because I feel like the blog misrepresents me a lot of the time. Aur log apna dimag kuch zyada hi lagate hain. My room looks like a tsunami hit it. I want to wear all my man shirts and skinny jeans and be dyketastic. I want my hair to stop doing the 90s Shahrukh thing.
I've still not done my tutorial. Instead I got drunk with my friends (and broke the curse of Game Night), played the good hostess for my family (my geeky college going new to the city cousin thinks I'm the shizz, it's weird to have a younger sibling following me around) and watched cricket.
Ab mann nahi kar raha likhne ka. See, sab galat lag raha hai. I startstop everything.
I let myself be taken in by the slack spiral like I did last time. Grade cuts for no real reason. But I always sink in the text when I'm reading and can't think of a single critical or original thing to say when I write.
So instead I eat up images. Tumblr is a soul sucker. I eat up music, fashion, beautiful people, history, art, fangirlism, bakchodi of people far far away.
My eyesight gets worse. Writing without my glasses now. Eyes burn and are always bloodshot. Sleep goes for a toss. The walls and floors shift and play tricks if I try to stare too long. Body is always warm. Just want to get a fever and get it over with. It'll give me a legit reason to take to the bed. When I was a kid I used to pretend my bed was a lifeboat in the middle of the sea (and no, I haven't read Life of Pi).
Have to wake up in less than two hours.
I've still not done my tutorial. Instead I got drunk with my friends (and broke the curse of Game Night), played the good hostess for my family (my geeky college going new to the city cousin thinks I'm the shizz, it's weird to have a younger sibling following me around) and watched cricket.
Ab mann nahi kar raha likhne ka. See, sab galat lag raha hai. I startstop everything.
I let myself be taken in by the slack spiral like I did last time. Grade cuts for no real reason. But I always sink in the text when I'm reading and can't think of a single critical or original thing to say when I write.
So instead I eat up images. Tumblr is a soul sucker. I eat up music, fashion, beautiful people, history, art, fangirlism, bakchodi of people far far away.
My eyesight gets worse. Writing without my glasses now. Eyes burn and are always bloodshot. Sleep goes for a toss. The walls and floors shift and play tricks if I try to stare too long. Body is always warm. Just want to get a fever and get it over with. It'll give me a legit reason to take to the bed. When I was a kid I used to pretend my bed was a lifeboat in the middle of the sea (and no, I haven't read Life of Pi).
Have to wake up in less than two hours.
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