Aqua Regia

All she did was to concentrate hard on food while she went on and on about “divorce”. Dissolution of marriage by aqua regia… okeyyy registered @ kopadi(brain). Thou she concentrated over each particle in her plate, she couldn't remember what she eat but she did remember the angle in which the fork was bended in by the time she was done with it. After that her mother left for aunts' place and heard sis grumbling about Dad won’t be turning up tomorrow. They prolly have put on enough of act for years together, killing individual happiness for sake of children and society. Everybody has the right to stay happy, “halalofying” self everyday isn’t the way out. It seems like it’s the rage that has taken over these species. It controls her the most. So probably it’s okey to go separate ways. 

While on bed staring at radium-stars . . . they twinkled( yes,they do.. when she  blinks blinks..let her believe they do . . .  ), staring at the  lyrics of human relationships in the crescent moon . . .somebody in her head whispered “Make a wish . . .”.   

قائمة التشغيل :

Ø  Tonight  ~ Enrique Iglesias

Ø  Sad Eyes ~ Enrique Iglesias

Ø  A Thousand Miles ~ Venessa Carlton 

:)

Dobeche ar suga obso namjadurui maum
Wonhar ten anjeno da juni ijie tonande

Ironjog choumirago nonun thugbyorhadonun

Gu marur midosso nengen hengbogiosso

Marur haji guresso nega shirhojyoda go...

Nunchiga obnun nan nur bochegiman hesso

Yojaui chaghan bonnungur iyong hajinum marajwo

Irohge himdurgo oryourjur mollasso

Norur yoghamyonsodo manhi guri urgoya

Sarangi jonbuin nanun yojainika

Nododa yepun yoja manna henboghage jar sarmyon othoge

Nan irohge himdunde himduro jugenunde

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. . .