It aches to watch persistently obsessed people.. People who live, thrive on stealing your identity.. And identity defines you. Everyone is unique. Why tread on other's areas? It just leaves them void of any sort of way to feel alive..
Goodmorning fakeness.. hello nothingness.. What are we, without our identity? Our avenues of interest and success.. the only thing that defines us, taken away? What does that leave you with? A body? just that? No soul because your substance has been taken away. It brings me to ask.. Are these people so void of originality that they MUST have what others are defined by? What others are? I do not wish to rebel. I do not wish to stand out, and receive attention. What I do want is to be comfortable with being able to express myself in a way wherein I feel relieved and comfortabe.. Apparently that cannot be achieved without a hound living to copy your every move.. Literally..

What really defines us, we shall never know. For it is those who surround us who plot against us and shall never let us come to realise who we are.. What we are.. To realise our uniqueness.. Because we are unique for a reason. We have talents. Some people just refuse to accept it. And so comes along copying and the need to excell and prove to be better than others. Does it truly push us to be our best? Or just give up, realising that no matter what we do, we shall be brought down.. Like a boulder to our heads or a bullet to our spinal cord. Never allowing you to escape the pain while being tortured and merely being a spectator, helplessly watching on, able to do NOTHING to stop it.

We are thus nothing.

forget him, forget him.
It isn't worth your time.
You're dead to him,
He's with someone else.
That he ever loved you,
He'll forever deny.

Forgive him, Forgive him.
He's much too vain to try
Don't blame his trait,
It's too much weight,
On your little mind..

I optimistically wait to not have to write a note as such, but when I have none to turn to, I vent so! Painful it may seem, however, I can't help but wonder..Is it not demeaning to ones self to want to have what others have? To go to the extent of stealing off from what others have thought up? I say not that it is completely my idea, however, can one not exist without having another strip them of what they treasure and hold special or unique to themselves?
If a "friend" is one who turns around and does exactly what you tell them you HATE in a person, what should the said person be considered as? I think an enemy. But who are we to judge who are our enemies and our friends? Our friends may be the ones who possibly WILL BE the ones to turn on us and feed us to the dogs.. Or cows.. Or vultures. Whatever you wish to consider not sentiment damaging, not that I care!
I was told that I turn to a certain someone only when in need or when I'm angry. Who then do I talk to when going through the mentioned? Alas! I cannot bear such rubbish! As for those who persistently copy? Shame! No matter how much I say, it never seems to register. When I hint, I normally mean YOU! What really is a pity is that I am unable to break the miserable, wasted heart of a stupid person who I know shall usurp whatever she can from me and then use it as her own, claiming to know so much of it! What ridiculous fate I have. Can none NOT copy? Can none stay original? Or is it just that every time it is two people with which I form a sort of understanding or alliance, one HAS TO prove themselves worthy and later, obvious while proving, yet so much more intolerable than when this effort of proving I have gotten used to, I must be struck with a blow of realisation of the absolute nothingness but WANT that was sucked out of me?

I do not positively have an idea of what to write here, but I would definitely feel more secure if no one was reading this. Alas. It is going to be read. I have no idea why as I do not promote the pryinginto other peoples lives when you do not know them at all. I would therefore prefer that my page were not viewed at all by those who do not know me. But is that really possible? Beats me. I need a blog where no one can read what I wish to write. And saying that I would prefer to keep something handwritten and get rid of this public display of my emotions and personal thoughts.

Turn it around on me
Don't turn it around, you'll see
I'm so much more than a whisper away.
So far away and still I feel you deep within,
This anger just gushes out at the thought of your lies!

Stay away from me,
I can't defend myself from all this grief.
If I feel you near, I swear I'll hunt you down,
And tear your insides out as you did to me.
I will watch you bleed.

I should be stalking every girl you talk about, going through your things.
Digging up from way beneath all the things that u wish to keep.
I've seen and know girls who slash and burn things, but I feel no need to follow suit.
It isn't easy being an obsessed fool coz I know you're not one to stay aloof.
I won't say my being here is essential, but I think we're much to close for that.
Stalking each other isn't a pass time. It would be quite a bore.
I don't know what urges me to write such pathetic with no flow,
But for some reason I can't seem to stop...

<3

Stand around, to watch me stumble.
Tears flow, sometimes they tumble.
No hard words, no heavy sighs.
That i'm lying, I can't deny.
I watch through images, neatly thatched.
For a hidden meaning for me to unlatch.
All is expected. I find it plain.
But these ulterior motives, they aren't really framed.
Pretext's in my mind, vivid images construed!
I'd be lying if I said I don't miss you.
But that gets us back to the point of this cry.
The meaning I deny. I wait for hope in something that I fear.
But I won't dare to go near.
But when it falls. When I break it.
I shall weep.. Till I am faceless..

Honestly tell me where this leaves us.
Because I do not wish to be left holding on.(to nothing..)

I hope you realise that when you said good bye, it meant for forever.
And in this case, forever never fades away.
I want you to keep at bay.
I hate you for now. I hate you till then.
I will hate you till the very end.
Cries of hope, left far away.
I won't stray. No I won't fall into that grope.
I will stay away. I will stay away.

I hate you.

I don't think he realises how much it hurts when he ignores me.. It actually does. But I guess I should stop cribbing. It's also my fault, but I've seen this happen before.. And somehow I wish now, now that i know what it implies, that I don't have to go through it.. And eventually get told how I'm worth nothing.
ANYWAY! I am currently working on a seminar about caste conflict in Goa. Its so much work, but interesting. If only I had someone incharge of my project who actually backed my decisions and believed in what I said.. And if not me, in the damn books which state it! Shall post about that later when I'm done. Just so tired these days.. Maybe after this I can actually post interesting things. Not my silly blogs on revenge and my exaggerated feelings.

I wonder why I'm writing this.. Maybe it's because I have no one to talk to. I know no one is going to read this either, but just letting it out somewhere kinda helps. I used to have someone I could talk to. But now he's bored and fed up of me. He doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me anymore. I wish there was someone who would listen to me and give me all the attention in the world that he had at his disposal! and whenever I spoke, he would at least pretend to listen and not just disregard everything I say and tell me how stupid I am. I don't need to be reminded that I am stupid. I already know that, but honestly, must it be stated all the time? And I wish I was the apple of his eye.. I wish I was the apple of anyone's eye... I remember this card my godfather gave me. It said You are the Apple of my eye and t had a worm boinging out of it! it was so cute. I miss being young. I want my childhood back so badly sometimes.. Most of the time.. It's just gone away and I can't seem to get it back. I hate thinking he future. It hurts. I miss my family so much. Stupid gatherings and all we had. Not those charismatic ones. I mean picnics. How we would randomly roam and explore Goa's amazing beautiful-ity! Sometimes when I talk about Goa, I don't really mean to praise it to the skies, which I do and obviously pass of as someone extremely ethnocentric, but I do it because it reminds me of home. And I don't wish to forget home. I want others to know how it was.. Growing up there! Its so beautiful. It isn't just drugs and alcohol. It's so much more. Its a way of living. Living for today. There's no tomorrow. Enjoying life. It's so beautiful like that.. Too bad no one understands me. I only wish they did sometimes. Hmm.. That reminds me .. I need to get my camera out and probably check if it needs to be repaired or anything.. Then I can try to take nice pictures and all. Not that I can, but since I am going home again I can try and take some pictures on film which will end up being saved. Better than the ones they have now on a card. Then you put them on the computer and after that, it's lost. So much is lost of my life thanks to the damn digitilisation of everything... like right now. I could write in a nice neat diary.. But i'm here. I'm such a hypocrite..
CRAP! I need to get back to my work! urgh! Submission tomorrow. not easy, much!

All that I said of not having expectations.. Well I seemed to have forgotten the basic principle.. In order to not expect anything one must not be aware of the fact that one isn't expecting anything! If you are aware, that defeats the whole purpose of it occuring in the first place. So I did end up having expectations. Apparently they weren't met and.. Yeah.. It's over...

I scared off another person.

It's boys with glasses,unkempt soft hair,
Girls who aren't them teeny boppers.
Wear a smile and not distasteful.
Crying inside, you can't imagine it,
That's what they're going through.
They don't fear rejection,
They have much to tend to.
Not their breasts, garments, condoms or hairgel.
Just their emotions, hopefully they defend..
Poetry for hours, pondering their empowers.
Conquering new towers.
It's not creative, covered in powder.
Is this all just entertainment?
I'm not part of this theater. I want my credit.
I quit this fakeness.