Acidic specie.... visualizes popping the bubbles

“Learn to say ‘no’

before the bubble solution that you throw up, drowns you in it.”,

I said to myself.

Over taxing is taking toll on me.

It had just been 3 hrs between the time I hit the bed and was out of it.

I woke up to the bangs of mom over the door and a big blow from my sis on my back.

I don’t remember when was the last time anybody woke me up with anything close to a big good morning smile. All they wake me up with, is a frown. Getting me out of bed is a theory of constraints in itself still! Com’on I at least deserve something closer to a humane wake up call. The way my mom or sis wakes her up is  like BMC worker with the broom or the police waking the house-less species sleeping on pavements.

I have been throwing up some sort of bubbly solution every time I get out of the bed.

I feel so acidic; it has to be either coz of less sleeping hrs put into practice or oversleeping. Previously it was out of oversleeping; now it is coz of been deprived of Neendi (sleeping) hrs due to varied range of reasons put together.

A sick headache, feeling of cloud of cough down my throat, sometimes even breathlessness precedes the act of throwing up of the bubbly solution. This is one of the morning rituals I have been force to follow by my system from past few months. I end up shouting. “Maaaamaaa, Am I am feeling acidic, ma head is spinning” and mom  will be like “Pori, time var zopayeche nahi then what on earth you expect to happen? Manasane kase timema var ….blah blah blah…did you drink water in the entire night? Abc abc abc.” All those words just fall on my eardrums like some random alphabets put together, I just want her to stop talking…either way when there is that violent headache + toxic feeling rising to my throat …… all things, species around me seems get merged into the  background….it feels no relation or sense of belonging or being in that environment. I can feel each pipeline (read as vein and artery) talking to me…each persona I wanna not think about in my  conscious self ,  flashes in dizzy eyes.

I  get to the copper jug, place ma hand on it… disillusioned fuzzy, gulp like 5-6 glasses of water. Drink drink drink… till it feels like all the pipelines within me gonna give up and then drunkard pace towards bathroom… bend over and there it goes ,water with some sort of bubbles over it. If not so feeble I might bend over to get a inch from my nose closer look at it. Left on bathroom floor is some sort of bubbles… my eyes picture popping them pop…. pop ... I wish we could just pop the bubble of person we don’t wanna think about. Won’t it be easy moving on… forgetting promises, no yearning for the past, no dreamland no scotland, no ‘Yes’ . . . just let go . . . . . . .cut " e " out of emotion and set it in motion..isn't it an invitation to numbness . . .turning one's smile into a beautiful lie. . . ;)

Coming  back to the bubbly solution on the bathroom floor , I ask myself…

 Am I such an acidic being?

Am I so toxic that if gulped by any other specie, it would die outta acidity  :O

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Symptoms_of_acidosis.svg

On a voyage called Life…

She tries to keep away from the superfluous elements.
Can one term them superfluous?
It’s said Every persona and instances in life are designed to teach you a lesson..
Never regret what you did, Never cry over what’s gone
for it’s not gonna change
update you journal of life,
Learn what you were en routed to, cherish the process, memories and move on. . .

She wants to break free,
Break free . . .
From bonds of blood relations,
To the bonds formed out of physical urges.
From bonds that leech on her,
To the bonds that turn her into what she isn’t.
From the bonds that drag her to where she doesn’t wanna be,
To the one’s that drive her to do what she won’t do in her conscious self.

All she wants is wing. . .


Waiting from the new life to embrace her.
But is this journey towards self-improvement?
Towards a new self?
Nope, it’s about self-discovery.
In order to find one’s best. . .
One has to walk the path of inner discovery rather than outer change.
We are perfect at our core, it’s about shedding the outer layers to get to the prefect self.Yes! She is perfect. She will get to “her-self”.

~Wanna tell you everything by saying nothing~

She holds the pen and flips the pages,
She realizes that she has so much to tell you,
Yet the thoughts never materialize into words.
Seasons are changing
Waves are crashing...
Drowning in the pit she dug for herself…
Every time she tries to rise,
It floats upon the surface of the darkness, in which she is drowning,
pbbly sorrows know how to swim and agony knows her guild.
Can she burn the maze she grew?
Can she, don’t think so…
The intricacy of the game is defeating her,
It’s leaving several questions unanswered . . .
Hope she finds a way to tell you everything by saying nothing. . .

She, a bubble and you ...

In that bubble,
protected from the trouble.
She was happy and glad,
floating through the sea in her own glee . . .
In her hallowed territory for dreamers, dreams la la la
With you as its guardian angel . . .
Carrying her in a tiny shiny ball, blowing it all the while . . .
Singing a lullaby with your charcoal treated voice.
Up in air la la la la…

With your game of keeping her up in air while you have your potty break you blew her bubble high high high . . . whoosh ...she went la la la . . .
Happy seeing similar territories craved by other bubble blowers … curious about the other bubble blowers. . . tring ring ring. . .
All the while thinking she did tell you how it was out there… how it was to be blown by a snow flake blower.
You warned her, you shouted, that 0.64852 milliliter of blood, you did all you could to stop her . . .
She didn’t know when her fling with the snow flake bubble blower turned into an addiction . . .
Blown by other bubble blower she went up ,up up in air……. ra ra ra ra. . .
All the while she did notice the snow flaked bubble blower was sucking a part of her…her bubble was reducing . . .*crying she went searching for her guardian bubble blower*
You gave her a look from corner of his eye . . .all the while blowing Turkish Spanish zululu bubbles . . .la la la To be continued...