ppl say that they cant understand what I write.. I completely agree with them..If writing is an extension of what goes inside your mind..whatever I write complete and utterly reflects the state of my mind..chaos..or randomness..i know quite a few number words..but they are just words..hanging independent of each other..waiting to be strung together and you know..expect to make sense and justify their existence.. ok..now where did i lose the plot? (twice)
i keep waiting for the spark to ignite my whatever that i have been waiting for..and i keep missing bonfires along the way..no did that sound right? on a very particular level, it didnt sound right at all..
i am a crowd pleaser, or rather i assume that i am a crowd pleaser..if there exists a word as such..it feels childish almost, to say that i am crowd pleaser..its like i am trying to impress my class teacher in 2nd standard, so that she can me extra marks and i can get a bigger helping of vanilla icecream cos of those extra marks.. now where did i lose the plot?
i find happiness in solitude..i find happiness amongst people..am i confused..no i am not..or am i? who are you..and now this is completely on the edge of being shambolic..
if only there was a writable version of abstract paintings..wherein you splash colors on a canvas when you are drunk and make millions of dollars..this is my equivalent..this is my contribution..and this is my life on a plate..
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