I fucking HATE the autosave on blog. i HATE it.
i jus did a massive ass blog and made one stupid mistake that erased evrything and it saved it.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. i hate rewriting stuff, then it's liek a task and not heart-felt. blah blah blather on blah blah.

so, anyways. i realised that most posts i do center around one common thought or idea or feeling. and i don't particularly liek that because that's so..constricting..i hate titles because it fits everything into that box.and suddenly you have these expectations from it that you have to live upto and i din want that with this blog. i originallli started this out to keep track of things that happened, and also jus to leave my mark, have something to contribute to the great literary world on the net that noones really appreciates..how much of my famous shitty words are gonna be up on sumones wall one day framed in gold?
interesting thought. while it lasted.
now this thngs become more of a journal tho. daily diary thing, sad as it is. and seriousli, how intelligent do you think it is to have your heart and your head out on a sleeve like that? VERY dumb. to be honest if someone i knew was doing it i'd think they were very stupid.
that just goes to show much I really respect myself.
kabooodles of respect seriousli.
kaboodle is a new word. I say so.


pst. i will not attempt to make any coherent sense or follow one particular train of thought in this one.just a heads-up

like a glimmer of light, like a vision of life

Vision
Epiphany
Revelation
Enlightenment
Illumination
Moment of truth.

Alot of random stuff to get thru with today..ahah sounds like the daily news, 'Hello and Tonight on BBC...'
which incidentally reminds me of me and my 3 other friends..we used to call our group the BBC a.k.a Bakwas Band Caro. yes Caro with a c, cuz i had to make it fit
and I said it so.Again.
i talk too much.

i remember when I was in second grade, this kid told me she didn't wanna play with me cuz ' i was bohot kali '
in layman's terms..ur too black b*^$#, ger outta ma face!
it didnt go down too well with my seven year old butterfly-lovin' heart.
OBV not. seein as i still remember it 12 years later.
i dont forget shit in a hurry.
I'm SORRY im swearin aight! jeeeez.

and I also remember when I was 17, i walked into this aunti's room and this woman that I had never seen or met before in my life told me I was remarkably beautiful and should try modeling, because I had the features and the build for it.
Goes to show just how wonderfully blind people are, aren't they?

I think that's probably why I kinda picked up on dad's don't give a rat's gravitating left paw's big toenail about looks thing. ( din wanna say rats flying arse and fit myself into another lame-phrase stereotype) 'cuz looks matter as much as about chicken feed.
(which matters alot. if there was no chickenfeed there'd be no chickens and then there'd be no parties and then there'd be no love and then there'd be no life. taken shamelessly from a rather idiotically catchy Indian song. yes those ARE the actual words of that song.

anda agar na hota..

can't find a single decent picture that goes with the whole beauty isn't skin deep thing.
Deviantart, you have let
me
down.

dad..if there was an Embassy-hosted ultra formal dinner, and he wanted to turn up in a vest and a lungi, he would.
'cuz he was cool liek that.

God i miss them
it's been two years. its.been.too.long.
and this is just the beginning. and its pretty shitty already. yay.



turn up. turnip. onions.
friggin salt and garlic and ginger and lo and behold, chicken and gravy to go.
i will be your purr-fect bahu saasu maa, and you will love this f.o.b heart of mine. meow.
this is what 4 30 am and writing TWO identical blogs from memory does to u.

with drug. it fades.
time heals all wounds and wounds all heal-ings.

heal-ings is a word. I i i i i said so.
i cant think of a synonym.

i think im allergic to some preservative in frozen food. everytime i have some i end u with a mini-strawberry coloured pink hill on my cheek or the bridge of my nose.
VEHRY shmexci.

i was on a skypecall today with my aunt having an audio convo. my uncle kept makin lame jokes from the background, sayng out phrases he knows i say often. like sahi bataein.
i laughed. but not from the heart.
somehow i think i won't ever be able to forgive him.
for everything. for nothing at all. maybe it was nothing.at.all.maybe.it.was.just.a.hyperbole.

Story of my life, searching for the right.
But it keeps avoiding me.

you are about as innocent as the murderer who stands in the middle of smashed glass with a bag of stolen diamonds and a gun and says 'who me?'
the original metaphor was too gory and had to be edited out.
ran along the lines of piles of corpses. yeh. and im-the-emo-in-denial.

ran into Liza who invited me to a party on friday. but like, omg! whut will i wear!. drug asked if i was sure it wasn just to make me feel better, last minute thing.
i told him no.
i'm starting to think.
Pa.ra.no.ya. (a.k.a paranoia)

need.to.sleep.
i'm.out.
be.here.later.all-ee-gate-er's.
lame.

-eeda