Closer

You can have my isolation.
You can have the hate that it brings.

You can have my absence of faith.
You can have my everything.

Unfinished Sentences

Feelings. Emotions. Too much in head.

Uneasiness. Queasiness. Simple boredom? Maybe. I think not.

Same old routine. Meet a new person. Get too attached. World does NOT revolve around ANY single person. Reminders to no effect. The heart wants what the heart wants. The mind thinks what the mind thinks. Obsession. Infatuation. Every action. Commanded by him. Always, at the back of my mind.

Shiny new object of affection. Unexplored, untouched. Boundless possibilities.

Time. Boredom. Nonchalance. Indifference. Too much effort for sustenance. Who gives a shit anymore? Unrequited love. Sour grapes. Commitment issues. Phobia. Of the future. Of the present. Of the fucking past.

Tapped personalities. Untapped personalities. Remaining untapped because I couldn’t care less. Fading away.

Pain. Hurt. Anguish. Don’t want this. Can’t help it. Wish I could.

Boredom.

Void. Filling? Substances. Contraband. Can’t get out. Of my head. Of this place. Stuck inside, knocking against the edges. Hurting. Need to take mind off. Sufficient distraction. Seemingly impossible. Contraband. Contraband. Revert to contraband. Houston, we have a problem.

Emergency. Trouble. Parents. Fuck it. High. Happy. Sway. Live. Peace.

Contented. After all this time.

Finally.

The Telltale Heart

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. It was open, it was free.
It was vulnerable.
It was prone to damage from inclement emotional weather. From without, from within. So it got hurt. It got hurt repeatedly. It was stabbed again and again, over a period of years, brutally almost. Like a bad murder movie scene. By the end of all that time, the heart had nothing but knife wounds all over. Every time it was stabbed, it had spurted thick, dark, red blood. So much of its blood was gone now.

It had retreated. It was scared now. It was a basic instinct to step back and distance oneself when one got hurt repeatedly. And so the heart had retreated into her chest. And it had become blacker, drier, more shriveled. Almost as if it were descending into old age. It had lost its youth, its vitality. She was only twenty five. It had closed up whatever was left of its soft, mushy insides, within a hard outer wall. It was more cynical now, harder. And wary. Wary of more hurt. And it would not let itself get hurt any more.

She wondered if it would open up again.


P.S. Extra points to those who understand the connection of the title with popular culture.

He's not the Messiah. He's a very naughty boy!

Alcohol

Beer spread through Europe thanks to Germany. If you've ever been there, you'd know that their women drink with a certain sense of dignity. Their men of course, know exactly how to appreciate alcohol. The problem seems to be though, that the rest of the world seems to have forgotten how to.

If you've ever roamed the streets of London at about 3 or 4 am on a Saturday morning (not that it's something I'd ever advise to you do), you'd see what I'm talking about. You'd see women puking, pissing on the road and just generally exhibiting behavior which drastically lowers any sense of dignity they might have had before. Fortunately for them, this is something they won't remember the next morning. All I'm saying is, women have an intrinsic charm to them as a gender. It's a pity to see it vanish completely simply because they've had just about three shots of whiskey.

I'm not trying to make sweeping stereotypes about anything. It's just very bothersome to me the way certain people react to alcohol. Women have a much lower capacity for alcohol than men, and I don't blame them for that. It's a purely biological thing. But somehow, they have a tendency to react rather drastically to liquor. They break down, start crying and usually get rather emotional. There are of course exceptions. But generally, women have a tendency to publicly humiliate themselves when they consume liquor. Men on the other hand, tend to get happy, and if anything even more fun, when they get tipsy or drunk. Which is why males always make for much better drinking buddies than females.

I remember telling a couple of guys I was sharing beer with about a month back at Cafe Oz (decent place; check it out) that I always feel so much safer when I'm drinking with guys than with girls. Thankfully it was just me and them, because I wouldn't like to say that to any woman's face, even if both I and she knew fully well she deserved it. But this is part of the reason I prefer hanging out with guys. If I'm forced to spoil my experience of drinking repeatedly by having to handle women who can't handle themselves and are puking and making out with each other simply because they think consumption of alcohol is a reasonable excuse to do so, I'd much rather not hang out with them in the first place.

I'm not saying I don't do it occasionally. Sure, I like that a glass of good Scotch lets me do or say things I wouldn't normally do or say, or that it lets me let go of my inhibitions. All I'm saying is, I don't drink that glass because of it. And therein lies the difference.

Need. Alcohol. Now.

It all comes sweeping back. The memories. The visions. The words that were said. And those that weren't. The feelings in my head.

All together now. All in that one single moment. A plethora of emotions, recollections. Like a giant wave suddenly rushing into the sides of my brain, crashing and churning. Like a surge of liquid insistently calling attention to itself. Wanting, trying, to envelop me...to drown me.

And the bottle holds it all.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

'Guilt alone, like brain-sick frenzy in its feverish mood, fills the light air with visionary terrors, and shapeless forms of fear.'

P.S. I've recently learnt that I suck at writing pornography. Another alternative career gone out the window. Ah well.

That Time of the Year Again

Yep. I think the time has come to give all my readers a virtual introduction to my whimsical, eccentric and simply rather weird teachers for this semester. It's been a while since the semester began, but in lieu of anything else to write about, here goes.

1. Contract

I honestly don't know how to describe this dude. I used to absolutely loathe him, seeing as how he's so old and teaches in a completely soporific manner, not to mention that he's rather sharp and cutting, and also slightly intimidating. But I slowly realized there's more to him. He's actually rather chilled out. Up till last year he used to be our Proctor, and man, what I wouldn't do for him to remain in that position (The semester began rather ominously with me getting into major trouble with the college authorities for...certain events involving alcohol, and for some reason the situation just escalated completely out of hand. That's a story for another time. All I'm saying is, I have a strong suspicion it wouldn't have had he remained Proctor.) He teaches well if you can manage to listen. However, he is rather sexist and has some sort of irrational fear of lesbians which acts up at the slightest female-female touching/hugging he sees. Also, you can frequently hear him discussing in class things like how marriage should not hamper one's sex life, how he went out to buy his girlfriend lingerie but then she got skin cooties (he was trying to explain the Sale of Goods Act), what is love, and once he even mentioned 'pole models'. So you see what I mean when I say he's an old, chilled out dude.

2. Fam Law

She speaks very possibly the worst English I've ever heard in my life. I think the part of her brain that is supposed to regulate grammar is either missing or has suffered some major trauma in the past. One of my close friends says I'm always very agitated in her class, and I'm quite sure this is the reason. She also gets irrationally angry from time to time. Apart from the fact that I can barely tolerate listening to her ruining the English language, her subject itself is pretty amusing. It derives mainly from religion, hence the giggles.

3. CrPC

By far the most intriguing, amusing and slightly disturbing character of this year's faculty. Looks EXACTLY like a rapist, especially with his glasses off. Also has a tendency to laugh heartily while talking about things like rape, murder or other gruesome things (teaches criminal procedure). It's hard to know what to do but laugh with him. Has a reputation for showing unnatural interest in certain girls if they catch his attention a little more than normal, if you know what I mean. Has a great aversion to giving marks and likes failing people. Rather creepy to look at. In fact, and I think this is an accurate and succinct description, one of my friends said that his face belongs on a poster captioned 'wanted for rape.'

4. Eco

Refer Chief Warden bit (though she is no longer our Chief Warden) here. Actively involved in a live-in relationship with Mr. Contract above. Ironic much?

5. Socio

I like her, frankly. She's one of our wardens and though in first year (refer above link) I didn't particularly like her, she's definitely gained a lot of respect since the whole incident with alcohol happened at the beginning of the semester. She was on our side throughout and I'm pretty sure had we just told her the truth, the incident would never have even been heard of by any higher authorities. What she was most regretful about was the fact that we didn't just come straight out with the truth because she certainly feels a primary duty towards taking care of us. But again, that's a story for another post. Decent teacher. Knows all our names and fun to interact with in class, though just the right amount.

That's about it. Weird lot, don'tcha think? =P