Making mistakes and such..

Maybe I will always be an outsider. Outsider to jokes, to bonding, friends, colleagues, relatives, everything..

I have never managed to make close friends, people never like me at first instance and mostly everyone gets inhibited by that invisible wall I seem to have created around myself. I make progress and then pushed back again. I move one step forward and end up in square one. I try to be kind and patient, maybe too much so, and then taken for granted.

I learn, only to forget as quickly. And then there’s no denying the fact that it hurts terribly..

Happy posts..

The "happiness" clippings make me feel soo good.. :) So I just thought I'd write things that make me happy:
- I feel overwhelmed by what I feel for him, its amazing to be in love with exactly the right person..
- I will live by the sea, maybe later in life..
- I was talking to Ma today and she said she didn't realise how quickly we grew up, she still thinks of us as little kids..
- Writing makes me happy

... :)

Easier said than done..

My sister's travelling and I am playing a long distance, temporary guardian to my teenage niece.
Bloody scary..

Broken things, not so broken now..

I've been reading someone's blog for a long time, she doesn't read mine. I could relate to her, similar qualms of singular status, cruel boys we got attracted to and who broke our hearts, fierce ambition, that perpetual need for freedom, the paranoia of being tied down, love for our family, big ego and larger pride, the endless list..

I recently found out that she's married now (like me) and I wonder how quickly these things happen and our worlds change. How you are so content in life that you just abandon this space (but can never stay away long enough). And how all the pain, pride and everything else transforms into absolute love for that one person around which your whole world begins to revolve now..

Getting curious..

I don’t think I am a very curious person as such. I usually take things at their face value and don’t introspect much about them. However, I have exceptions as always:

People from my past: I often wonder about them- how they are doing in life generally (not in a curious way, just how friends wonder about each other). If they are truly happy, barring what Facebook says, and mostly what will our conversation be like if we ever chose to connect back again. I can chose to stop thinking about it, simply pick up the phone and give them a call (I do remember most of the numbers from the non- cellphone days), but I just can’t bring myself to. I dread the what ifs of being taken wrong, of pride being hurt or being laughed at. And so I just don’t..

Homes: I love homes- they needn’t always be well done ones, just places with identity and character. Whenever I look at any photograph taken at somebody’s place, I sort of turn my head a little so that I might catch a glimpse of some more. I know that photographs aren’t three dimensional but it’s something that I can’t help- my inquisitiveness to see more. There are old places where things are depilated, furniture that’s gone old and rickety, the functional lines of one room merging to the other, I love that. And then the modern houses, with clean lines, beautiful light and organized clutter, with plants and such. To me, a home says more about people than shoes..

And with that I leave here with a picture of my house, my favorite place in the whole world..