the rip

people grow up

how many of you have this impression that being mature is way better than being adult
they actually, mature and adult, have this kind of relationship, they are alike, but not the same, they complement each other, but it's hard if either does not weigh down a little bit more

you can't contain everything in your body, you are a frail fickle container, swaying feebly, once melts and condenses, next freezes and hardens up, you just can't live in the world devoid of the phrase, that you can never have it all

now have you ever wondered why

people who do not think too much always seem to possess a vital quality that those thinkers don't

that right amount of sensitivity, of agility, of speed because they manage to get rid of preambling analysis

it's just that,
some people are mature, some others are adult

those who spend the major proportion of their days thinking are more inclined towards the quality of maturity, those better at the execution, at handling things, at giving off quick reaction are adult

none is inferior, neither superior

but what the hell, you can't have both at the same time, not at a very young age, your words, your actions, they all don't mean a thing, because they all are only in your head, buried down deep beneath a sacred chamber, gold plated, completely covered with haystack and wailing baby horses

you can't live there, you belong there, but you can't leave this place

what if you don't have both, what if you're neither of them? what if you've got no one around to tell which one you are? would you sink into the limbotic state of vapidness...

i only want to tell about

this child in me, she only wants to write. for herself, not for others.

she saw the words insurance, aircon service, plumber, water bill, electricity, she realised that she has to live all through this, she can't always be in a crackless cocoon of words, strangulated by her own strings of sentences, she can't reject the world, she needs insurance, aircon service, plumber, water bill and electricity.

she feels ill and giddy, shivering and tremulous, sickness all over her body

but there's a lot can be done.
man up.

i do not want to sieve through my posts, i do not wish to force a perforated surface of metal upon my words

these are my words, words misunderstood.

i want to write, i want to write

you look good only when you're clad


haha
*~peace~*

i do not know how to begin

ok. first i'd say sorry i feel like, our relationship was the worst you've ever had wasn't it

it's not about comparison because i obviously know nothing of your previous ones but oh boy wasn't it noticeable

i mean, your gloved eyes and layered skin, they spared me only a concealed gaze, unwanted to be infected, because stupidity is contagious

all the way you'd been dragging yourself to my level and i'd say that i feel sorry for you now

but mostly i feel sorry for myself too

because

no other boys listen to the same music, no other boys read the same books, because no other boys hold such structured opinions, no other boys as young as you

but i needed time to grow up, what did i know at that time? stubbornness and life from a rear view mirror

now i've acknowledged death and suicides, but not afterlife, and a little bit of that ability of knowing what's important in my life and what could be put aside (clothes) because the best things happen when you're not in them

and like what you said, we're not more than a speckle of dust, unimportant, but those who say this constantly are always the ones who've moved far forward, leaving the clueless ones behind

and like what you said, "tell me if you think of doing anything stupid"

i'm writing this letter because writing this letter is something stupid, and besides i really want you to know that your presence has had a big impact on my life, you know i wish it could've been a two way mutual symbiosis, which simply is more just and fair and square

i do not miss your kiss, i do not miss much of our previous relationship because we both know it was quite damaged, a relationship of the worst kind

and only after we broke up was i able to see things clearly, was i able to smarten up and make use of my time more efficiently

i wish we'd held some discussions together, you'd have taken the lead but would still let me express my opinions, you wouldn't remould them but would just give them a sense of direction

and you know my love for you will never turn into hatred and your hatred for me will never turn into love

but assumptions stay assumptions and love stays love

and i know that we should've not dragged ourselves to each other's level

but i couldn't keep you, you're only someone i look up to

even with a second chance i'll still be wasting you, like what your ex boss said

"if we keep you we'll only be wasting your potential."



good luck sidharta, i've never seen a boy as bright as you.

S S K

i hope the memorpoudO OIHOIHWKHJKSbnkjnaknskajdejlouopU927390739280-







I CAN WRITE WHATEVER I LIKE,AND UNLIKE WHAT YOU SAID


"Tell me if you think of doing something stupid."


I WON'T TELL YOU ANY OF THESE.

often i fail to distinguish hysteria from love


but unlike tomas, i've known you for two years.

still, like the neighbourhood boys in the virgin suicides, i am mostly clueless, left with your superficial layer, already full of its glory, i wonder if i would collapse seeing what's beneath

i like you, taking my hands

i love you, all the coincidences which follow(ed and will forever follow), how we bump into each other, in the inside of the train

what a reverie.

but coincidence stays coincidence, love stays love

that is all because i've stopped to look beyond that.

i could, of course, persist, go on, because i love you, really, and had i not loved you this much, you wouldn't have to hate me that much too

we would hold hands, board a train that takes us whenever it wants to, because i love coconuts and roasted corns, beaches and mountains, waters and fires, anything i could share with you

but assumption stays assumption, hatred stays hatred

i'm thinking of how if i love you less now, you would probably hate me less too. but my love for you wouldn't turn into hatred and your hatred for me wouldn't turn into love

your gloved pupils, they shot me a "you're an infectious catastrophe" look, the invisible bulletproof layer wrapping your skin held a sign, saying "stay away"



put an end to this would you.

i cannot contain these beauties





i must die