13 Feb 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
Disclaimer: I did NOT write the following passage. I just wish I did.
“You came over to get your sock today.
Sometimes when you study, you kick them off subconsciously, one foot scraping the sock off the other. You were over here a couple nights ago, studying sociology with me at my dining room table, and when you left, you forgot one of your big smelly socks under the table.
I called you to tell you that you had forgotten it. I told you that you better come grab it because it was smelly-ing up the apartment.
You came over to get your sock today. You snatched it from under the table, and I demanded that you keep it far from me because I didn’t want to catch your diseases. You laughed but quickly stopped and pulled a mock offended face. You dangled your big smelly sock near my nose, and I yelped in disgust, shoving you in the chest. You wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me from running off. For a moment, we both just grinned at each other.
And then you dropped that big smelly sock back on my floor, and your lips came crashing into mine.
Come over.
You forgot your sock again.”
Found it on LTC. Rivulets are flowing down my cheek, like, flow flow flow. Why dont things like these happen to ME? WHY?!
10 Feb 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
You do know what I’m referring to, dont you? You dont?! Just as well, you’re non existent. Sigh, this is pathetic.
In my college bucket list, which I seriously need to upgrade, I did number three. I had done it before, even before I wrote the bucket list, so I thought I could strike it off it, but no, it had to happen to me again. You know what? I think am going to make this bucket list much much more longer, every damn thing on it is happening.
You know what MUNs are? The reason why I do MUNs is complicated. No, it doesn’t have only to do with my unquenchable thirst for political studies, or debating. I went to Goa. For BITSMUN 2012. I was allotted Syria in the ecosoc committee. The agenda had to do with green technology IPR, and restrictions on compulsory licensing in LDCs. Good shit, and I spoke. Not enough for a best delegate award, not even a special mention, but enough to not have been invisible to the others. Good shit. [Oh look what you've done to me Faizan, if you're reading this, fuck you]
Sadly, they’re not going to remember the delegate of Syria for her impressive contribution to the committee, instead, they’re going to remember her for her very embarrassing drunken episode on the second night of the conference.
So, there I was, in this passably pretty formal dress, which made me look thin[This is entirely for posterity, the chances of anybody else but me reading this are very very low, so I'm delving to the tiniest little details, and I have no idea why I just explained that] aaaand, the committee had adjourned for the day, and we, meaning me and Opu. My friend from college who was Libya in the SC, went to Utorda. Aaaand, My sensible part didn’t want to get into the ocean, but I did. Meaning, the irrational, stupidly impulsive part of me is so dominating it might just as well be me. And I bet, erm, what do I call him? Daddy Long legs! HAHAHAHA!! This is rich! I’m gonna call him that on his face.
Anyway, I bet him I could go into the ocean. I asked him what he’d give me if I did. He said two. I snorted. He said three. I said “go drown somewhere”. He said four. And I dived into the ocean. Well, that’s not exactly how it happened. I tried to bargain it upto 7 but he wouldn’t budge beyond 4. And watching the sun set into the sea was too much for me, four shots or no four shots so I did go into the ocean and that I got four free shots was just a bonus. Or so I thought.
I got sloshed. And acted like a stupid moron. In front of veteran national MUNners. The curator of our MUN had to take me home. I cringe while writing this. I puked on ecosoc Namibia’s scarf and went home in the GA’s chaiperson’s shirt. And I also, I’ve been told, much against my wishes I assure you, I’m a staunch believer in ‘ignorance is bliss’, yelled at my vice chair and my chair. Insane ramblings. Loud ones directed at them. Let’s just say I get brief flashes despite my best efforts to suppress them. God hates me.
08 Feb 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
You barely even know I exist. But that’s okay, because I don’t really like you. I don’t really know why I’ve singled you out of the rest, maybe because of the fact that even after I change the name from yours to somebody else’s, you’ll still be on the pedestal I’ve placed you on. I’ll just remove the mistletoe from above.
What’s it about you that makes me want to be happier? To become a bigger person, to become a better person, to want to smile on a warm summer day with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.
Mourning a love that you never had is just as sad as mourning a love you lost. Because the death of hope is horrible. Just as horrible as losing a love.
23 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
I don’t have eyes the colour of that ethereal minute between dawn and morning, nor are they the colour of the untamed ocean in the midst of a lightning storm. They’re brown so dark, they look black, unless I’m facing the sunlight and you look at me sideways, then you can make out that they’re more brown than black. There’s nothing exotic about brown, nothing unique.
I don’t have the kind of beauty that would make strangers look a second time either. I look utterly ordinary. I’m neither breathtakingly pretty, nor am I conspicuously ugly. I’m average. I’d probably look passably pretty if I made an effort to actually enhance my appearance, but I don’t. I know I’d like to look prettier, but honestly I think I’m just too lazy to actually go through those painstakingly long beauty regimes every morning. Or as I like to think, I prefer comfort over fashion, or maybe that’s just a euphemism for laziness. Well, it isn’t so necessarily, for there is a distinction, and I have a little bit of both.
Instead, at random hours, never predictable, the urge to look pretty, seizes me on a whim. I usually follow through, dressing up with exaggerated care, and twirling this way and that. There was a time when I thought I was genuinely pretty but that nobody could see it. I can see how foolish that sounds now. How can you call a painting a masterpiece when no one acknowledges it to be one? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder after all, and I am not narcissistic enough to I decide that I’m pretty when those eyes are only mine.
I don’t have parents especially note worthy or atrociously rich. I haven’t indulged in acts that would put my life’s interest quotient above that of an average teenager. Nor have I been subjected to any such acts. Of course, my entire life has not been an undeviating monotone. There have been a few ups and a few downs, enough to acknowledge and to a degree appreciate the opposites of the spectrum. You have to be sad to really know what happiness is after all. I do, however, slightly exceed the expectations one would have concerning the intelligence quotient of an average teenager. This probably being the only way I deviate from my self-proclaimed image of a nondescript, average, even boring, teenager. I know my kind would probably protest at my association of teenage with boring, but hey, not everyone conforms to their stereotype.
My rather pitiable account of myself, pitiable on account of me being so drearily ordinary, is with an objective. The objective being, to question, to contradict and to elucidate further the concept of soul mates. How better to start it off with a description of the protagonist? So you can appreciate the doubts I foster about my candidacy for the role of a soul seeking its mate.
What precisely are the criteria for an individual to be eligible for a soul mate? Or does everyone have a soul mate? The abundance of forms of art trying to reproduce some form of the effects, or the lack, or the withdrawal of love is overwhelming at best. It’s only natural that I be curious about this confounding thing called love.
There are pages and pages of aphorisms trying to sum up some aspect of this bewildering emotion. Bewildering to an outsider only, of course. Those who are or have been in love are an exclusive gated community, exchanging knowing looks saturated with meaning. They speak highly of that fangled emotion. Praises, songs, lore and sometimes tirades razing it to the ground for ruining their lives. We can only eavesdrop, wondering if we’d ever be lucky or in some instances unfortunate enough to suffer its submergence.
I digress, and my apologies. Back to relevance, yes, where were we? Soul mates, ah, a concept that has baffled nobles of thought and commoners alike. You don’t need a degree, or any other kind of prerequisite to love and be loved, nay? So it’s only to be expected that people would wonder about the existence of soul mates. The idea of a protected alcove where perfect, unblemished, saccharine love can burn unhindered, never flickering is a dream all of us foster. What better place for such an alcove but between two individuals those are but puzzle pieces, forming a whole, their fissures sheltering the embers from the swaying winds of the world.
I wrote this when I was feeling especially verbose, evidently, and also, apparently, really low in the dumps. Hello? I’m drearily ordinary? Well, yeah, I am kind of ordinary. But, that’s beside the point, you can’t go telling the world that! Oh and I don’t, for the life of me, remember the flow of this article, meaning I don’t remember what I was going to write next. So here’s a conversation I daydreamed up, between me and Annie.
Me – Yellow!
Him – Yellow?
Me – Hello is so boring!
Him – You tell that to everybody?
Me – Haha, what do you think?
Him – I don’t quite know what to think but I’m hoping it’s all for me.
Me – Oh my God, you manwhore!
Him – What makes you say that!
Me – Oh, that’s a hard one! I don’t know, how about “I’m hoping it’s all for me”!?
Him – But it is true! And, you still haven’t answered my question.
Me – Oh, no, I tell it only to special people.
Him – Ah, so am special? What made me special? To you.
Me – Bitch please, Don’t flatter yourself.
Him – Ah. Quiet my aching heart.
Me – Well, that, your whole, Shakespearean aura, and well, your diction, and that your smart, and that you’re a good human being, and that you’re so hot, and that-
Then suddenly AS comes out of nowhere and starts yelling at us, [the reason is irrelevant] he takes the blame, and gets sent away to concentration camp and I go visit him, and then we escape in total Jackdaws style and then we get married. In Brazil. D’aaaaw.
Then class kind of started, so I had to pay attention to creepy blue eyes. After the class I tried to get JAM friend to act as Him but lord!
Me – say “you tell that to everybody?” with a kind of longing and envy and subtle undercurrents of anger and maybe-
Her – This shit is so gay.
Disclaimer – I’m not a homophobe, neither is she. When she said “This shit is gay” she didn’t mean, “gay” as an expletive, she meant it as two members of the same sex being sexually inclined towards each other. We cool bro?
23 Jan 2012
ApraPosted under Essence of the blog
I love prints. Don’t you love prints ? I love prints . Fun clothes that look sober but BOOM! awesome prints!!!
I couldn’t ever like pucci but I think I see myself going gaga over Etro . Man, I’m in love with the clothes. I love basics paired with mad prints, I think it gives awesome contrast. And that’s exactly what Veronica Etro came up with this Spring. Go Etro!!! If it were me , I’d just wear the clothes as they are. With a pair of beige pumps maybe. 
Etro Spring Summer 2012~
These, we love <3 ~
23 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
Ah. Love.
There is nothing that can be said, or sung, or written about love without it having been already said, sung or written before.
Love. It’s so confusing. And infuriating. What is love? I dont know.
And I’m not talking about the kind you’d feel for your mother or your dog, whom I love very much thank you but LOVE love.
Nope, I have got no clue.
And I’m striving to not trivialize this post because I actually want to talk about something that’s been bugging me for quite some time.
There’s love and then there’s true love? What are soul mates then? Are there soul mates or do you make soul mates like some wise ass once said? Are you destined for someone or you just have to hold onto the most compatible guy you come across? Fuck Nicholas Sparks for deluding me into believing in stupid fairy tale love.
Is it possible to love somebody and then, get over them? Is there such a thing as transient love?
I just came across Tush’s picture. I had the biggest crush on him, for over two years, in my 11th and 12th, I even cried when I was drunk on last new year’s because, as I blubbered to a desperate Gandla, he didn’t even know I existed. He still doesn’t, and I couldn’t care less. What’s more, he’s dating a class mate of mine, well, we were classmates then. It didn’t so much as register.
Oh, we have fruit salad for dessert today!
Oh, he’s going out with the basketball chick!
So, what was it that I had for him? I remember going for the very last class of tuitions, right on the day of my english I model paper, just so I could see him again and he didn’t turn up.
You know what I think? I think there’s a guy in my head, that I really really like, and I change his name and face for time to time.
Because, when the very first guy, well actually third, I crushed on found out, he tried talking to me. To make a long story short, he was dumb. You know how I get around dumb people, them being a waste of air and all that. Haha, am kidding. The earth is overpopulated. Haha, am still kidding. Am I? Yes I am. Haha, okay.
I digress. Bah.
Suffice it to say that it wasn’t pretty. And needless to say we have over 200 mutual friends and we aren’t on each other’s lists. Joy! I dont have to read any of his dyslexic status updates, no?
So, yeah, it reinforces my theory. That I just like the idea of the guy in my head, more than the guy. Mostly because I’d have exchanged what, one word? One sentence tops with him.
To all of you. Datrick, Gowda, Nash, Jo, Tush, now Annie.
For all the things she is to you that I will never be.
For the detriment that you are to my sanity.
For the idea of you that shares only your name with you.
For the goodbye that is so long overdue.
22 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
Underneath my seeming imperceptions, I take note of your every dismissive glance. I resent every time you turn away to engage somebody else in conversation. I resent but I make note. I’m aware of how you perceive me, and how every time somebody mentions me in passing, your mouth curls in a sneer. I’m also aware of the abrupt decline of your respect for me, meaning you once had respect for me.
I’m sorry I’m not always composed, I’m sorry my diction does not match international debating standards, I’m sorry I yell inappropriate things, I’m sorry I prance around like a little girl, I’m sorry I come across as a pretentious wannabe, as someone who’s trying too hard to be that bubbly girl, I’m sorry if I cannot actively contribute to whatever serious conversation you’re having right now, I’m not aware of whatever it is that you’re discussing. I’m sorry I’m not mature, or with a clear head, or responsible, I’m sorry I’m socially inept around individuals of worth.
Actually, I’m not.
I’m not sorry that I don’t have a stiff upper lip, I’m not sorry I stutter and say the stupidest things on earth, they provide comic relief if nothing. I’m not sorry I’m silly sometimes, I’m grown up when I need to be grown up and I decide when I need to be grown up, not you. I’m not sorry I am rarely if ever lethargic, or like you would put it, ‘cool’, because what else is slouching around at 6 in the evening in aviators called? I’m not sorry I add a little more than I need to when I’m trying to make people laugh, or be a total wacko, because I’d rather try too hard to be a wacko than try too hard to be the cool chick who doesn’t talk to anyone. I’m not sorry I trust people to handle things responsibly while I tag along, contributing what little I know, sometimes making a fool out of myself, but doing what I can. I’m not sorry I’m not cold or reserved or serious or sensible, because that’s not who I am. If you looked hard enough, you’d see that If I make a better captain than anybody else on the ship, I gladly nominate myself, but that most of the time, I’m aware that there are better providers than me, and I’m not sorry that I acknowledge and accept that.
You, you should be sorry for undermining me so, you should be sorry for not seeing what things really look like, you should be sorry for what you’re clearly missing out on, you should be sorry for not conversing with me about all the things I do know about, serious and otherwise.
And I might just forgive you.
14 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
Ma, I’ve told you I hate you more than I told you I love you.
And that makes me sad.
Because even though we can’t get along with each other, you’re still the most important person in my life. And I’m your world. You dont make it evident, but I know.
Like how when you think I’m asleep, you tell me “18 years ago, you fit into my arms, from my hands to my elbows, my little girl has grown up”, and how you never let me sleep on the side away from the wall because when I was a kid, I’d rolled over and would’ve fallen if you hadn’t reached across and pulled me back. How did you know I was falling? How did you wake up and pull me back like that?
And how, every time I feel as though somebody has pulled the ground away from my feet, as though I’m falling and I’m trying to clench at something to stop my fall but I only find air; every time I feel that way, sobbing so hard my chest hurts, I find myself calling you. And when you do pick up, you always panic and you always tell me, always “I’ll come get you, I’ll come soon, shush, I’m coming”
You almost never do, but when I hear those words, the world is alright again, I can feel the ground underneath.
I’m sorry that when you come home, you only find me sitting online, or watching tv, reluctant to make conversation. Because, ma, when we do, we always end up fighting, so I’d rather we not even talk, because when we do fight, neither of us has any refrain. We say the most awful things, and it hurts. You’ve never said sorry, neither have you told me you love me, but I know when you’re sorry, which isn’t often and I know when you love me, which is always, forever.
You have the prettiest smile, Ma.
Pretty ma!
Oh, and I dont think I can ever stop saying ‘Amma’ every time I stub my toe.
14 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
I’m not writing anything specific here, so read on only if you’re utterly jobless. [No stalker, not you, you go away, shoo!]
Em. It’s saturday evening, I’ve just showered, for the second time today, [I'm turning into some kind of a clean freak o.0] wearing comfy shorts, and there’s a chill in the air, and I’m bundled up in my comforter, and I can hear the planes taking off. Ooh, I love this. The lights are off, and I can only see from the light from my laptop.
Richa just came. -.-
Oh, she switched on the lights. *grumble grumble*
Anyway, she’s going out for pani puri with her friends, and Jam friends and the other two, the one’s I watched Serendipity with? They’re going for a birthday party for a friend I’m only acquainted with and Anee and Iyer are in some other corner of the world. And kitty and Taimni are out with Taimni’s bf, who used to be one of my closest friends. She’s a friend stealer. :@
OH! I’ll call Jai? Oh no, he’d be out with Shiv. Bleh. But I dont mind. Last semester, I’d have drowned in self pity but now? Naw. I feel blessed that I have such amazing friends. Besides, I went out every single day of this week, and I have two trips lined up next month and a MUN to attend at the end of this month and if we qualify for the street play we’ll be going to goa sometime soon. So, no complaints. And Richa just invited me out. Meh. Should I? Shouldn’t I? Okay, I will. I’m starting to like her best friend, with whom I couldn’t get along with before.
And we’re gonna go watch Sherlock Holmes 2 this thursday! Ah the shallow pleasures of life. Really. Nobody likes being lonely. Loneliness is a sad thing. People who crave popularity are different from people who crave friends. Good friends. Neither is superficial, if you think about it. Why is it wrong to want to be accepted by everyone? To pretend to be something you’re not just as more people will like you, is sad. It’s not wrong, it’s not stupid, it’s sad.
Happiness is real only when shared. Well said Christopher McCandless.
09 Jan 2012
PithaPosted under Essence of the blog
The second semester is back on and I couldn’t be happier! Everything is happening perfectly. Loafing around each evening and I even participated in a fest. Awesome.
But, sometimes, when you’re out doing something, dont you feel like you’re wasting time? Like how you think it’s the right thing to be doing but with all the wrong people?! Weird. O.O
I’m the kind of person who’d order a different flavoured doughnut each time one goes to M.O.D [I'm not a hindu, I'm not a Muslim, I'm not a christian, I'm not an agnostic, I'm not an aetheist, I'm an M.O.Dian] so it’s like I feel compelled to go out no matter where they invite me to just for the sake of adding to my list. And the fake laughing gets to me after a while. Going out for some inexplicable joy, instead of for fun? Yay! Not.
But! But but but! I’ve wished and wished and wished for too long to not have to spend evenings locked up in my room, forlorn and reading shitty werewolf stories on wattpad. So, it doesn’t feel right to turn invitations down to go sit by myself with my laptop alone in my room. I actually do indeed have fun, but I feel like I do more for the experience. I feel the need to justify that each moment I spend is not a waste of time.
“Oh, we bonded, so it’s alright.”
“I tried a new Baskin Robbins flavour”
So there are those few times, when I know a person enough, for whatever my necessities, that I feel like I’m wasting my time around them. I’m a mean meeeaaaan person. :@
Em. What did I do today anyway?
Woke up at 7:45 and went all “fuckfuckfuckfuck”
Richa[My awesome sauce roomie] – It’s sunday! Shut up and go back to sleep!!
me : I HAVE PRACTICE!!
But I actually did go back to sleep *sheepish smile*
Then I woke up at 8:15, even though I knew I was supposed to be in my college at 8. Heheh. And brushed, and did the rudimentary clean up and walked to my college. Saw the only two of my fellow play participants, so waited along with them for the rest of them to show up. The main guy turned out to be still sleeping with his phone switched off so we sent the guys to pull him out of bed. I dragged the girls to this little shack that our college people hang around, smoking up and eating stuff during breaks, for some breakfast. Had a samosa. Then? Yes, fine, okay, and a cigarette. Then?! Em. Went back to the activity lounge, where I got teased to death with this guy friend of mine with whom, my friends are convinced am in love with.
*shakes head* Naive fools. THEN WHY CAN’T I STOP BLUSHING?! No, no, I know this one. Probably because I’d blush if you teased me with a stone?!?! So, anyway, I know, touchy topic, so yeah, anyway, we practised, which was nice and fun and warm and more nice. ^.^
Then, me and one of my friends, we went to the venue for JAM [Google is GOD. So, go google JAM *.*] and sat around, where we were joined by a couple others, all our batchmates, and we went around having boisterous, loud, obnoxious fun until about 12 when I realized that this JAM thing wouldn’t start [the organising was BAAAAD] so me and this other friend went back to my hostel where I enconutered Richa having this nervous breakdown because she didn’t have anything to wear for the fashion show she was participating in, opened both my huge bags which have all my awesome/party clothes and rushed into the shower. Showered. Richa had left by the time I came back.
Went down, and had lunch. JAM friend called and asked me to come JAM with her. 
But, nope, couldn’t be bothered enough to rush and join her in doing something I wasn’t confident about anyway. So took my time eating my food, and then and the friend who’s accompanied me to the hostel went back to the college, where we were joined by all the girls of the play, most of them my good friends ^.^ and we sat in the amphitheatre for a little while, cheering our batchmate in this dance competition, until it was time for the street play event so our director [a girl and a friend ] dragged us to the venue.
Watched the first team, got bored within two minutes. They were following the traditional street play format and talking about something serious. Aids awareness I’m guessing, but that had little to do with their act and more to do with their red ribbons. -.- and then we did ours, and the judge laughed and laughed!! ^.^ and then the third act was really serious as well but we didn’t stay to watch. Most of us dispersed. One of our friends had registered for a solo singing thing, so we went there. I sat next to my JAM friend [Incidentally, actually, not at all, but who just happens to be one of my closest friend here] and then we made fun of everybody not SIMC. See? I’m a mean person.
Then, this guy came up on stage, evidently chinky, adorable, needless to say, with a guitar, and he says “This is one of my original compositions, which I did a year or so back *little blush but also a playful+confident [basically knee buckling-ly cute] smile* for a girl I used to know [cue 'awws' which we readily provided] and then proceeded to sing this amazing song about heart breaks and smiles and coffee! Yum. SO naturally I called Dibs on him. They all shushed me though. -.- and then it got over, and as everybody started clapping, me and JAM friend had a Dibs war. She claimed she’d said it louder, what a cow, no? And the clapping had receded JUST as I uttered “BACK OFF!!” And all the Simcians, my friends mostly, laughed. Like good laughing, like “She’s such a crazy maniac” laugh and the guy friend am teased with turns around from some front seat he’s sitting on and goes all “Oh, She’s in Love with someone again?” and I go all “FACEPALM!!!” But it made me feel so popular!! ^.^ But I’m not delusional enough to think I am. -.-
Then, this school friend of mine messaged me, going all “Hey! I’m in your college! what’s up!’ So we hang out for a bit with each other, talking about school and stuff. He’s all grown up and tall and even though he doesn’t say it, I know he’s thinking “OMG, when did she become a cow?! She looks like some bull dozer!! Obese much?! ”
Oh god!! *depressed*
Then, JAM friend drags me off to grab a sub so I wave bye to him, and we head to the nearest mall [which also happens to be bloody awesome] we eat a bit, we try on some clothes for a bit, have a little fun. We’re too sarcastic for our own good] then we return. There’s a huge crowd near the amphi theatre so I head over but before I can see ONE bloody dance performance, JAM friend comes over and goes “HAAAAAAAN?!?! I forgot my necklace in the trial room!!” so we go back, this time with another guy friend in tow, who’d been grumbling about us having ditched him for the earlier trip. It ends up being a blast after we retrieve the necklace [good thing it's this cheap trinket, and not tiffany ish] we walk around, going “SALE SALE SALE” while Jai holds both of our hands, they get me out of Mango by promising me they would show me a mermaid.
It turned out to be a cardboard cut out. Whom we named Chameli and took pouty pictures with. Then we went to the courtyard, and giggled every 30 seconds when the fountains squirted water, going all “PEEE HEEHEEHEE PEEEE” so everybody was staring at us. We then went back in, and when we came to Pantaloons, both of them clutched my hands really tight while I wiggled to get free, I really wanted to go to pantaloons okay? Then JAM friend saw the upto 70% off sale sign, so we both started racing, and Jai ended up clutching our hand bags. Haha!!
And then, ummm… and then? Oh yeah, she had to go get cash from an ATM which was in the food court. me: I’m NOT walking all the way up there, take Jai. I’ll be in Espirit. Come fetch me when you’re done [My phone had died]
Where I bumped into another school friend I hadn’t seen in over four years. Whoa much. So we had dinner together, while JAM and Jai went back to the hostel. We then caught up, her uncle is now the chief deputy chief minister of my state. O.O and she shops entirely from Zara and Charles and Keith and has a french bf, and does weed. Weed?!?! She was preppy the last time I checked. Peer pressure and a french college does that to you.
It was 8 in the night by then. So, I was about to leave, when I bumped into Nammy and Trishna, classmates and friends. I’d watched Serendipity with the both of them just last night and they were best friends with JAM friend. So I waved bye to school friend and had food and talked about love [not boys] but love, and relationships with the two of them until I was so tired I could have fallen asleep on my feet. -.-
So then we took a rick and came back to my hostel, where me and Richa sat and analysed the whole day and ordered pizza. I paid. Because she looked fucking hot today, finally, after changing clothes a hundred times. And now she’s watching HIMYM while I write this, blinking off sleep and some hazy screen thing covering my eyes. I gotta go take off my lens, and sleep. Yawn. Hmm. Long day.
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