20- The Tactfully Tailored Treason

 11th January

The absolutism of perfection

I'm 20 already and am still ordinary. I don't think I chase the appreciation of people. The most difficult appreciation to get is from myself sadly. It's so hard to meet my own expectations that others' don't matter. No need to get too sentimental.

I am scared and a little bit disappointed. But, happy too and looking at the future with hope. I don't believe in "what's in store for me?" but, I do believe in what do I do to make this store satisfactory for me. 

I am satisfied. But, mostly excited. I wish becoming 20 wasn't reverting back to your schedule the next day like any other in the last one year probably. I want to change something. But, I have changed so much around me already that now I am out of options. Maybe, I should paint tomorrow. After finishing my modern history scheduled work obviously (viz lagging hell a lot). What do I paint? A fucking modern tapestry that no one in the world will understand. For some reason, saying things, doing things that make no sense to others but make perfect sense to me, brings me a sense of satisfaction. That tinge of enigma and the eyes of another waiting for more. It satisfies me. I work in extremes basically. Either I give in totally or I like to watch the other person want more (beg for more). These have their respective designated places in my life. If you know, you know. I am way too harsh on myself. So, do I like dominating another part of myself? Or do I enjoy watching another part of me begging for more? Shit. Its both. I'm like a pendulum. I switch the roles. No no no no. These roles are always existent, but I choose which role I want to become aware of. Yes, that makes more sense.

I'm 20. Fuck. I feel like I'm getting old. I am yet to taste wine on my own. I am yet to spend a night in an exquisite hotel  some place unknown, with someone secretive. I am yet to try my first smoke. Get drunk for the first time. Narrate an abrupt poem in an absolute bunch of strangers. Talk only in the form of poetry. Go on a bird watching expedition. And oh my god, A BALLROOM DANCE. All alone or maybe in a crowd. But, I need bloody slow romantic dance to classical brazillian or portugese music. I have a 'kachichi' just thinking about it. I want to read a book to a bunch of strangers and I want them to listen. I want them to watch a movie in their minds while I read that book. I want to do a lot. Maybe I will, maybe I won't.

Don't disturb me, I'm knowing myself.

Also, I will finally be confessing that I have a huge huge crush on Vikram Grewal. Im sorry Abhi, kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayaal ata hai.  


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