Oh hell come ring this bell

The only true sign that I am not a delusion trapped in someone else's fantasy is that mosquitoes exist. Nobody cares enough for them, not even enough to let them enter the realms of a tragic kingdom.

Somewhere along the edge of your world, there is a feeling waiting to be found. You almost saw it once, but then the swirling dust storms grabbed it and fled. And then you wait, like a Djinn stuck in time at the same spot for years and years to know what it was. Nothing changes they say, you only change what you felt about it. Wonder once, malice now. Still, a touch of excitement lingers somewhere. One that sends you spiraling away till the earth cracks beneath your feet to make you stop.

And then you wake up, you've fallen out of love. No void to remember it by, just a touch of wanting to hang on longer. Just another day, with a mosquito buzzing near your ear.

#Lesson for today: If you stop caring so much, you'll start to love again.



I think the neighbours must think I ritually slaughter peasants/have exceptionally amazing sex every now and then, judging by the sounds coming from my room. Loud screams, with sudden bouts of cheering and then some silence.

But as life would have it, neither of those two particularly appealing things is going on. The loud screams are a result of having gained weight in spite of giving up chocolates/chips/junk food/aerated drinks for a while now. The sudden bouts of cheering happen when a previously hated tee fits perfectly. The silence, when I fall asleep from being a depressive-maniac.

In further uninteresting news, I am yet again stuck at an internship. It has sucked away much of my dry wit and longing to be funny. Explains why you are reading the most boring post of this blog ever.

Except the sex part. Everybody likes sex parts.

#Lesson for today: If there is a God up there, he doesn't like lemons much.