Camera's have little kids inside them. Who colour pictures for you.

I could hire a truck and drive away filmy style.

I could get bitten by a cow or a sparrow.

I could fall off a rickshaw.

I could get electrocuted while atop a train.

I could fall asleep in a roadside wastebin.

I could be at my wedding, smiling away to glory, and trip and fall into the pyre.

I could choke on a plastic bag.

Dude, I could want to freefall into the Ganges, scream of inner joy, attain peace, have my 'moment of truth', next, have some dead guy's hand in my mouth, and die of shock terror amusement whatnot.

So much could happen. But right now I don't really need a reason to shut ze hot blog for a while, i am just pulling the shutters down. I am just bored. But, my romance with this sexlikehot place isn't dead okay? Its just 'for a while'.

I know I'm awesome and wonderful and the best and you'll miss me and send me please come-back-emails and you'll come check this place everysingleminute for updates and all, but whattodo yaa, you have to move on mate! I can't be awesome all the time!

You know i meant to sound funny when i said THAT ^ :/

Hasta la vista, baby. Ekdum Arnold Schwarzenegger style.

I lost my way. I drew a map. I found another planet. I'm not coming back.

And when I place those fingers on the tabs, I want words to flow. Thoughts to speak themselves out. Moments to be captured and images to form. People to come alive, right there. Something tragic to happen. Not war, maybe a murder or something. damn, I have nothing to talk about otherwise.

I want to do something reeeeeeeeeally evil and bad and mean. And it doesn't stop at I 'want' to. I am going to. The only joke is, I do not know what to do. Dear happy sunshiny life, please let some evil happen.

I am such a cow. Or maybe a cat. I wish to be called a big fat Hippo.

No man, i ain't quitting blogging. You can't get that lucky. Else who will fling refrigerators at you?

Just GO, will you?

If the purple sky broke into tears, it'd rain blackcurrant berries.

I wish to become a globetrotter. Somebody pay for my travel expenses and get me a column I could write for a newspaper sharing my travel experiences and earn crisp green paisa. This sounds the best thing to do. Then why aren't all of us 'globetrotters' ?

He tweets like his tweets are going to be read out in the Parliament. Either you tell him or I will.

You could die the very next moment. Did you know that? It is so so so weird.

They'r kids. They talk like adults. I'm an adult. I don't even have to say the next thing.

One thing I detest the most. When kids (technically anyone younger to you) do/talk/live a life that is way more 'cooler' than yours. Gadgets / language / Boyfriends / girlfriends / everything included.

You know what sums it up the best? FML.

Oh it rained in Bangalore. I miss that place. My hometown it bees. Louly place it bees. Helps me put on weight. Pwetty place. May it become the capital of the world.

I stare at blackboards. Neat and black.

Cake on a plate, hair on the head, fruits in the courtyard, best apparel in the closet, a man by your side, a woman to welcome you home. You can never have it all. But whos goes what in dreaming? Dreams can capture. And they are free of cost. And they are between you and you alone. Anyone who wants to live an ordinary life specifically? I do. And I am working towards it already. At the risk of being hated, I believe people fall hopelessly in love only when they have failed at everything else in life. Do you realize that we'r surrounded by emotions, not people? Pride, envy, lust, ignorance, deceit. Thoughts compile the mind. Slowly. Bit by bit.

Please patiently note : My tendency these days to bounce from one topic to another scares me, this child here needs a bit of patience from you.

It's in tiny text cause I whispered it to you...

Boogie man blew magic sand and we all started dancing. Cookies arrived on unicorns and dolls and candies rained from up above the blood red sky. Trees swam and water cried big purple tears. Birds painted my walls and my walls walked away next morning. I married a planet and worms played at the orchestra. This is it. So, are you still listening to me?

There is a girl under your bed, waiting to crawl out at night.

I am simply perplexed! Ever since I'v started writing these really sad depressing things on my hot blog, the number of followers keeps increasing! I tell you, and trust me on it, people secretly like it when someone acts all depressed and sulky. You may be saying what-bullshit-is-she-saying to yourself right now, but, trust me, I know. Why?

Answer: I must confess. Whenever I see people happy, this tiny little annoying feeling crawls into my head. I start acting cranky. Judge me. I won't bother justifying my juvenile behavior. I just thought I'd confess to my sexxxy bunch of people. Does that make me the bad kid?

Oh wait, No I don't pray to god that the happy person's joy be butchered into tiny little bloody bits. I am not that wicked.

I have a story of my own to tell. I look for the endings first. Endings with colours and sunshine filled in them aren't endings. There lies a valley somewhere, a crack, a trench. Waiting for you, like a monster behind a bush. Happiness - I envy the word for the wonderful meaning it has been allotted.

A sky shimmering over Me. Shooting stars gone berserk.

I dislike most things these days that requires me to be a witness. A mute one that too. I hate witnessing blooming love, success, failure, pride, envy. I look away. It's just that what people do these day's, I don't want to bother myself with it. And if I have to be a witness, I'd rather be those kinds who scream, throw bottles, mouth abuses, break chairs. Yes.

Oh, I realized exactly why I hate Farcebook. Cause that devil of a homepage throws buckets of information at you. Information which you conveniently packed in a tiny box and had stashed it away in some tiny corner at the back of your brain. I have no clue if it makes sense to you. (Afterthought: Oh this morning I realized why it annoys me so much. It requires me to be a silent witness. refer to previous paragraph.)

I like Twitter for the only reason that it allows me to do what i'v been doing ever since a child. Talk to myself.

Oh and I adam-teased. FINALLY. Adam teased a nice looking guy.Trust me, it was liberating.

I must have fought over a pencil or an eraser as a kid, if someone took what belonged to me. Fortunately for me, I'v grown up. I could'v grabbed the pencil and then flung it in the air. A broken pencil we'd have. I'm beaten. I'm exhausted. I can't find air to breathe. I'm being melodramatic. Pencils don't interest me.