Arrested Advent

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 1:12 AM

0

Fret not, oh dearie,
It may seem I entail a heinous crime,
But I'll be back within a moment's time:
In a blink, and a breath
I will appear in front of your sullen eyes
And save you from your sweet demise.
But if I do not emerge,
Lax your fingers and then count the stars
That lay hidden in the morning hours:
They will keep you,
As I swim across the raging, swirling seas,
That my talent and my daunting tease,
Finding my way back
To you - your heart, your sullen eyes
Warmer than a bright sunrise.
But rest assured,
We'll be together again, in time, as one
And bask beneath the golden sun;
I'll be back soon,
In a dormant breath, a blinked eye -
Love, I'll return within a sigh.

X-x-X

What's up, folks? How's it rolling? 12th Grade is fucking nuts; I'm dead inside and outside. Well, almost. Pardon me for my insolence.

 This poem is a special one-off only dedication to my blog, because I've been neglecting it like crazy for the past few months. And probably will continue to for the next half of this year too. No kidding.

But we'll kiss and make up, don't worry.



Ciao.


Cheese, Corn, Nausea - Tales of Growing Up

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 12:33 PM

0


I don't have any incentive for a personal post, or a poem or a fiction post. But I want to post something, even though I really don't see the point of posting [this]. Anyhoo, read on.

~

I have the sensitivity of a 5 year old (it says so in the About Me section of my blog too, I believe). In some cases I’m much worse than your average overprotective mother or your above-average clingy girlfriend, with terrible space problems and an even more terrible combination of being both equally cheesy as well as corny. But I’ve been working on it constantly, and I have improved drastically – not that you’d notice though, it’s a more internal sort of change – over the years, also because I had a girlfriend exactly like the one just described, which only made me realize how nauseating I could possibly be. It could also be because I’m a Cancerian (my girlfriend was one too), but this possibility I’ve eliminated, and I’ll get to why in just a moment.

I have to go out of my way here and digress a bit, to thank the few friends that helped me a lot; it wasn’t exactly about being cheesy or anything, though (because they kind of like it) - it’s slightly more personal than that. So yeah, without going down to the intricacies of it, I’d just like to say thank you, Kaali Maa and Her Ogre. You guys have been awesome. (Don’t worry, it’s an inside joke) {Note to reader: These people are Cancerian too, hence the elimination of said possibility in the preceding paragraph}.

So. Yeah. Where was I?

Ah. Sensitivity. I don’t believe I’ve ever told this to anyone (or so I think) – so I’ll include a Big Blogger Revelations tag down in the post tags – but I’ve always been the kind of guy who had only one friend. So whenever my friends would talk to their other friends, I’d get all crazy and everything. That’s probably because till the eighth grade I was a loner – the only people I spoke to were my then girlfriend (not the cancerian), her only female friend, and my only male best friend. So such a situation never did arise when my friends just drifted away and hung out with their other friends; it was creepy, yes, stop moaning about it already. I didn’t speak to people who didn’t speak with me, and after they were done speaking, I’d make no more attempts at continuing the conversation. That’s how I was.

From a situation like that, in the eleventh grade, I actually reached a stage where I had a whole group of friends, and that group sort of merged with more groups, so I wasn’t really a loner anymore (technically). So, the whole space issue thing has been resolved successfully by now. I remember a time when a friend texted me:

It’s not your fault - what if I don’t like your whiny ways?
I have to deal with it, no?

What I really wanted to text at that time, but didn’t, for reasons I can’t remember now, was:

No shit! I don’t like my whiny ways either!

So yeah. I got rid of my whiny ways and I’m proud of that – and I didn’t do it because I wanted a friend to stick around, I did it because I wanted to. I don’t change myself for others. [Renee, Oshmita -reading this? {And again, don’t worry – this one’s on the inside too}].

So, every once in a while, when it’s so bloody apparent that a friend of mine chooses somebody else over me – I let it go. Because hey, I need to get off their ass, too right? And they’re always there for me when I need them, so as long as I’m there for them, it doesn’t really matter who they look to, does it? What matters is that they’re happy, no? True that, bro. *Schizophrenic Hi5!*

X-x-X

Did you expect anything better? Be honest. 
Anyway, I'm still cheesy as shit when it comes to writing, if I want to be, that is. Wait till I fire up my next love story. *evil glare*


So, uh. Yeah.

| Posted in , | Posted on 2:01 PM

2

It's been a while since I've posted, right? Feels so weird going on Blogger and clicking on the New Post button after so long. But the good thing is that I'm still managing somehow. It's been about a month into 12th Grade - yes, our extra classes started about a month back - and I'm fried. It's so bloody tiring. I'm thankful to God there's only one year of this hellish cycle of classes, tests and more classes and more tests. I won't be dishonest enough to say I don't want this year to end as soon as possible - but then that would mark the beginning of a whole bunch of more things, so might as well enjoy this year while I still can.

I've been in a weird mood lately: part delirious, part focused, part bummed. I've got a slew of unwritten poems hovering in my head, a collection of short stories that I haven't had the time to write down and a whole bunch of songs that I haven't completed writing entirely. Ever since I got an acoustic guitar (more on that, later) I've written about 10 or 12 songs, with lyrics and everything; some of them are instrumentals, too. But I don't have a decent quality mike so I can't even record them into my PC, which sad as it sounds, is no good for a workstation. Sigh. I've also started working on a short story which, 2 out of 5 people will die after reading and the other 3 will die while reading. But fuck it, I'm still going to write it. Because I'm a boss. *insert cool-shades smiley*

Anyway, I basically wrote this post to announce (who's listening?) that I'll be posting a whole lot of rants under the title Rant-a-thon. Or maybe Rantathon, I don't really like all those dashes. Those rants will actually not be much of rants, they'll be an organised, sane collection of thoughts but on various topics at the same time and hence they eventually will live up to what I'm going to call them anyway, 'Rants!'. They'll cover a whole range of topics from dating, girls, women (wait, they're all the same), memes, politicians (lololol, i'mma be trollin) getting friendzoned (a friend reminded me recently that I'd gotten friendzoned too), 5 hour long classes, bad physics teachers, great chemistry teachers, sad guitarists, happy guitarists, my favorite guitar technique - vibrato, my favorite guitar(s), spectacles, teenagers who're in love, were in love, will be in love or just like masturbating, puns, cold coffee, space issues, misunderstandings, pinched harmonics, letting go, saying no, saying yes, procrastination, contemplation, being in a band and whatnot. And the best thing is - it's going to be random! You'll never know what you're going to get with what. So, yeah. Makes sense? It will, chill.[And oh, it's going to be numbered too, just in case I lose count]

And. I've learnt a lot of songs on the guitar lately, on of my favorites among which is Stevie Ray Vaughn's Pride And Joy. It's awesome, the bluesy rhythm playing and everything, plus the solos are a bonus, and oddly enough, for a  blues song, it's got great lyrics. I also heard this song by Herbie Hancock that featured John Mayer on the radio recently, it's called Stitched Up, and it's from the album called Possibilities. I loved it, it's got this whole awesome jazz groove and everything, and Herbie's piano playing is awesome as usual, as are John Mayer's vocals and Steve Jordan's drumming. I need to know who the bassist is, dammit. 

What's up with the weather in Delhi, man? Sunny now, raining the next moment and then freaking sunny again! It's almost like it's having moodswings or something. But still, it's kind of fun. And considering I have another class starting in about half an hour, I really think I should revise what I learnt in the last class or something. But yeah, Chemistry's gotten a lot more interesting, I have to say (more on that later, as well - check in the rants). Have a fun weekend, people. I ditched school so I could sleep. *insert happy smiley*

So, uh. Yeah.

\m/ (-_-) \m/

Your Best Listener

| Posted in , | Posted on 6:18 PM

2

Your happiness, your sorrow,
 your today, your tomorrow;
keep your worries on the side-table
and tell me all.

What you won, what you lost,
what had hurt, what it'd cost;
I'm here to listen,
at your every beck and call.

I will be your best listener;
today, tomorrow, forever. 
Just remember, before you leave,
to leave the cheque on my desk.



X-x-X

Love, Love, Love

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 3:42 PM

0

 'Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.' - Andy Warhol

 That's what one of my friends seems to think about 'love'. And because she wants to know what I think about it, here's a post dedicated to her very recent facebook status. And I'll take it one sentence at a time.

 How would people describe fantasy love? More importantly, how would people go about describing love? I always thought 'love' and 'reality love' were vaguely synonymous, I guess I was wrong. Because for whatever reason, I'd always associated fantasy love with... you know... is it really that hard to come up with?

 Now, because I'm a writer, I know exactly what 'fantasy love' is. I mean, for me, I know, it entails going intensely visual on every little thing that could mean or constitute love, which could range from literally anything to just holding hands and walking to full-blown love making in bathtubs, washrooms, classrooms or against walls (read: BlackCurrant). But mostly, all of that aside, fantasy love is what all fantasies are - a mere fantasy. Now it is beyond me why people would pin their hopes on something that's only a fantasy, but hey - it's their choice, I'm no one to say.

 Never doing it is exciting. How? I could somehow vaguely grasp the concept in terms of 'love' per se, but how could not doing something be exciting? If it's an ongoing tease - and in this case, it'll be an endless and a perpetual one - then only would 'not doing something' be exciting. Now going into entirely abstract and certainly refutable examples, if I'm a guitarist (and I am one) and I really want to play a solo to say, a certain song - how would it be exciting for me if I never even do so much as pick up my guitar?

 The most exciting attractions, ah. Yes, now this I have to agree with. The reason the attractions are most exciting between two people that never meet is because they'll always be wondering what would happen if they did. In a more general case though, this would be untrue. It has to be, because it's not like two opposites that never meet will be two opposites that want to meet.

 All of this is bullshit, I say, because the only reason people would want to believe in fantasy love is because they're just too afraid of real love. Now, Andy Warhol was an artist - a great one - and the thing with most artists is, well, they're crazy. But I'm an artist too (yes, I said it) and so I can somewhat understand what he was trying to convey when he said that. He believed in fantasy love because it helped him with his art. You could read his wikipedia entry, but there's no mention of fantasy love though. And to a certain extent, I believe in it too.

 Why? Because I'm an artist. I'm a writer, and anything that could happen and eventually does not makes my writing only better - because it forces me to break out of the box and think; come up with twenty possibilities to a situation that, had I actually lived through would know only one outcome of. It makes thinking fun, and writing even more fun

 But. There is no way on Earth I'd choose fantasy love over reality love. I'm not scared of 'getting my heart broken' or the various other clichés that hold people back from opening up to people they might eventually fall in love with. Sure, I've had my own share of failures and successes in this regard (the former more than the latter) but that doesn't mean I give up on love altogether, the reality love I mean. Because at the end of the day, if it's fantasy love - even if you're the most ignorant of people alive, you'll know it's only that, a fantasy. But reality love, even though it's infinitely more of a bitch than fantasy love, will at least be real. So, if you really can convince yourself to believe in fantasy love - go ahead. [I dealt with this in a short story, I think - Between Fantasy And Reality, Part I and Part II; a third part's in order.]

 So, to sum up all of that in one sentence - Saying fantasy love is better than reality love is like saying masturbating is better than having sex (pardon the linear analogy). 

 Andy Warhol believed in fantasy love. What do you believe in? 

X-x-X


Now you know what Lenny Kravitz believes in! ^_^

Things Better Left Unsaid

| Posted in | Posted on 12:40 AM

2

BEFORE YOU READ THIS - Know that this is a joke. And that I have nothing better to do at night and I can't sleep because I was studying till a while back and now that I'm not studying, my eyes refuse to go into REM mode. Kudos. 

About 2 hours back, I set my facebook status to, 'There are some things better left unsaid, but be assured I'll say them anyway.'

And then two of my friends started arguing (nay, debating) about whether I should actually do that or not, one of them speaking for the motion, one of them against. Now on most days I'd have sided with one of them, certainly the one speaking for the motion, and would've told the other friend something about something else that would link to something else and make 'em realize something else altogether. But I wasn't in a mood to do that, you see. I wasn't in a serious mood when I wrote that status...

I didn't write the status with all of the 'I think I love but I'm not sure whether to tell you because you've become an increasingly great friend and I don't want to ruin everything but I'm pretty sure you already know' kind of thing. I chose to put it up because I had tons of other things going on in my mind which incidentally had nothing to do with anything my friends were arguing about.

For example, when you walk into a... say, a movie hall. And you're a guy. And you see a very attractive girl (read: super hottie with huuuuuuuugge lady-parts, the front-ends) and if she turns out to be a friend of the friend you're going to watch the movie with, after saying 'Hi' do you follow it up with, 'Man, I'd just rather watch those than the movie'? Now see, THAT is an example of something that is better left unsaid, even though everybody's feeling like that, or has thought that before. Well, at least all the guys.

Or when you're a salesman or something at a guitar store and some random kids come up to you and ask you the prices for various guitars and ask if they can play, what do you do? You say, 'Yeah, go on ahead, I'll plug it in for you.' You don't go, 'Bitch please, you can't play this because you sure as heck aren't going to buy this and I'm the one who has to change the strings,' right? Because that's something better left unsaid, even though the amateur guitarist and the string-changer both know that the kid ain't gonna be be back.

Or it could be when your talking to an acquaintance and you suddenly feel the need to go, 'Hey, man, can you just please shut up? I know you're only talking to me because I can get your work done. So please, let's not continue making small talk, yeah? It's kind of saddening.' But you do NOT do that, do you? THAT was what I had in mind when I said I'll say things that are better left unsaid. Not the whole... you know, awkard-weird-friendship-love hormonal bullcrap. It was just a JOKE. And I was always known to be KIDDING. Or that's what I hoped. But hey, it's cool. 8)

Now I can cite at least a dozen more of these examples that could happen anywhere from a courtroom to a grocery store, but I'll go with this one, because I know a great deal more are going to relate to this... 3:)

When you send a girl a friend request - again, presuming you're a guy - do you send an additional message that reads: 'Hey, I just saw you at this friend's party and I though you were hot so I just wanted to browse through your pictures! Thanks. :)' ?

You don't, do you? Well that's just it, man. Things better left unsaid. There's no godforsaken need to intellectualize every goddamn thing on this planet. Chill on it, yo. And I'm sorry for the chauvinistic instances there, but hey - guys have a heck lot more of what's called 'hormonal imbalance' and that is a fact, and even if girls do, just by chance, they're never going to admit it, so...

Hahahahaha. You see that? THAT was something that I could've lived without saying. So yeah, guess I'm already doing the needless and the needful. Awesome.

Cyaaaaaoo.

^That's how one of my friends said bye to me today, on facebook chat. I just found it ridiculously funny so I did it too. Again...

Cyaaaaaoo!!!

More updates on how academically screwed up I am later. 8)
X-x-X


P.S. You really believe there are things better left unsaid? I do not, just that I didn't have better things to think of. (^___________^)

 




One O' Clock's a Good Time to Play Blues

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 1:56 AM

1

Yep. I said it. Go screw the world; one o clock's a good time to play blues.

I don't care about my Physics exam day after tomorrow, because hey - nothing's higher on my list of priorities than playing blues. Writing, maybe, but that's the only allowed exception. This feeling is weird now, tapping away at the keys of my keyboard. I hadn't done this in a while, but now that I've started doing it again it feels awesome. Like a drug, yeah. 'I used to do a little, but a little wouldn't do and so a little got more and more.' [Gn'R, Mr. Brownstone]

In an interview, Jack White described Blues as essentially being sad people singing sad songs. I'd rephrase that and say that Blues is in essence, awesome people singing awesome songs. Yes. True story, bro; Blues was the 'Emo' in past days.

I love blues songs, man. 12 bars, 3 chords, and lyrics 2nd graders could write with their eyes closed. THAT freaking easy. And how awesome are they to play? GODAWESOME.  MAAAAAAAAAYUNNN. I want my bandmates to be free so I can ask 'em to play this stuff with me. This is just crazy. Nothing makes me more ecstatic than the mention of blues. I wish more people listened to stuff like that, all they listen to these days is music they can bang their heads to and can't make sense out of; whatever happened to times when repeated verses of, 'She left me, my baby! She left me all alone' were all people sang? Dammit, I should've been born in a different era. I've been jamming to backing tracks on youtube for a while too, 'cause my bandmates aren't really free to jam now. (Yeah, physics, I know; sucky shit)

Anywaaaaay.

This song, you must check out.

4 guitarists, 3 chords, 2 singers, 1 GODAWESOME song.

And it's about sex. 

Yes, it's in boldface because I want people to know you don't always have to be crude as shit when it comes to writing songs about making love like rappers do these days. You can be graceful. Or well, if not, you could at least be funny. Like BB King, Buddy Guy, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Vaughn. Damn, these people are awesome.

Rock Me Baby!



Listen to more blues, you pups, it's awesome. Like TOTALLY awesome. And the funny thing is - there are SO many goddamn songs with the same chord progressions, but that doesn't really stop people from writing more songs with the same chord progressions. ^_^

P.S. I'd kill for any one of those guitars, mostly the Clapton Strat or BB King's Lucille. Dig the other two guitars too, Buddy Guy's has got a great tone. And Jimmy's guitar is sweet too, 'cause I dig Maple fretboards. Awesomeness, this. Wish it were longer.


Anyhoooo.

Tadah.
Got tons to write about, I have. I shall, as soon as my exams get over, but mostly Physics, Chem and Maths. English and Physical, I'll deal with easily. That being said, the next week is going to be hard as shit.

Ciao.

X-x-X

Secret Rendezvous

| Posted in , , | Posted on 7:51 PM

1


Secret Rendezvous

...And we'll take a walk; one on the outskirts of the football field, through the empty corridors, dotting the perimeter of the basketball court, behind the small stage that is lined with trees. We'll walk on the grey impaled marble floors, or on dust-laden cement, slow as snails, for as long as we wanted to. We’ll hear the crickets chirring, the grasshoppers singing, while the rest of the world danced to their own tune, enjoyed their own follies…

We’ll catch up on things we had lost track of. We’ll speak about people, how much they affect out lives; chat facetiously about our distinctly alike tastes in music; shared insignificant little stories of our lives that had somehow affected us in the slightest possible way.


We’ll be joking about trivial matters still, as we cross the big black gate for the second time, heading towards the driveway again. And I’ll push you gently as I tease you about another guy in your chess club, saying that if there were team chess matches, you both could make babies by the time the opponent makes a move. You’ll push me back too, with a wee bit more force, saying it was as easy for me to score girls as it was to score goals, and that girls liked taking their shirts off at hot footballers anyway; I’ll pretend to have not heard the comment you made about me being hot, and I'd know you’ll be apprehensive about saying something like that again.

After more rounds of the driveway, the sand pit, and the mini garden near the reception with the water fountain at its center, we’d finally settle down to sit, at the uneven piece of rock outside the periphery of the tennis court; there is nobody there to see us, except for the footprints sitting idle on the tennis court, and cobwebs that have gathered on the corners of the walls. Only I would sit down though; you'd want to keep standing for a little while longer because your legs feel restless. I’ll pull on your hand once, twice, mocking you to come sit with me before you'd want to; you'll retort back with an impish, almost inaudible scream, calling me a retard. Finally you’ll sit, right beside me, and for a fleeting moment we'll look at the stars together, both of use in awe of, and revering, our spontaneous, secret rendezvous. Another moment of silence follows, this one more tangible, and we are just about to start talking again when your phone rings and you have to leave. 


I'll escort you back to the auditorium, where everybody is watching the proceedings of a dance show they’ve already seen an umpteen number of times during the rehearsals; a dance they don’t like much, but still want to watch. And you see me off with a brief hug goodbye; nod your head as you wave your hand.

I start walking around the football ground, trying to distance myself from the commotion that is going on next to it, in the auditorium. I stand still for a second, stretch my back, and look up at the stars again, your voice stuck in my head like a song on repeat. 

X-x-X

WAIT.
Now that you've read this, you should know that...
~> I wrote this long back and had decided against posting, but then, it's Valentine's Day.
~> I have a Physics Practical tomorrow, for which I should be studying, but I took a break to finish editing this because of YOU, my beloved reader. So lest something bad were to happen tomorrow, prepare to be bombarded with a good ton of hate mail.
~> This is not the complete story. The complete story neither begins, nor ends, like this.

Peace out.
Wish me luck for tomorrow.
And nobody's getting no hate mail 'cuz I don't have the time. Or the addresses. 

Ciao.
\m/ (-_-) \m/

Reassurances

| Posted in , , , | Posted on 12:59 AM

0

I'm the kind of person that lives on reassurances. You know that right? Reassurances that aren't so much needed, per se, as required by me, just to get through something. I know what you're thinking - yes, I should have gotten over my childish insecurities, I should have understood that there won't be people around me all the time. But then, you're not just 'people' are you? You're more than that to me, you know. Honest.

Or maybe you're not, and it's just my wishful thinking. Maybe I idealize people to such an extent that they feel like they mean much more to me than they really do. But I guess that's just the way I am, the way I work. It's different for different people, and I expected you to understand I think. But it's cool if you didn't: I'm not in your syllabus booklet, it won't kill you if you don't know me from head to toe.

I guess after a while, the little things become too much to live for. You don't find them anywhere, and if you look too hard... well, what do you expect? But then again, part of it is your fault too, because if you hadn't been so obtrusively generous with your little gestures, I'd never have started expecting. And you're just as much wrong as I am. You should've issued a sign of some sort(Warning: Little gestures oncoming); I'd have handled myself just fine then. In our friendship, we were equal; as are we in our faults in its regard.

What it also could've been due to is lack of communication. But come on, we both know we're better than that. We all make mistakes, and we all move on. It's just that, right now, I'm kind of in a dark place. And I could really use you, your deep insights, your jokes (which were often more sad than funny), your unabashed claims of genius, and your pure and honest narcissism, of course. But most of all I could use your guiding light - it's helped me through a lot, you know? And that, I say, at the expense of sounding utterly and thoroughly cheesy - something you know I don't like.

These days when I see you, I have this hollowing, almost harrowing feeling inside my chest. I know that it too is transient, and will pass as time does. And I know it sounds extremely selfish of me to be needing you around me now, but may God kill me if I didn't want to be the same for you; it's just that you never wanted me around when you were down, and you were good enough alone. And I won't be petty enough to feel sad about that, because you're independent and it's awesome. But I can't help noticing how you've changed, how I've changed, and how the things between us have changed; and it's cool, I think, because you can't forego the inevitable, you can only delay it.

So where does that leave me? Still in need of your reassurances?

You could say that. But ultimately, I know, I'll learn to appreciate things the way they are, and the way they must remain. I'll learn to understand what I've been too stupid to understand till now. I'll learn who to depend on, and when to be independent. I'll learn how to realize, not idealize. And I'll learn to operate my own torch, so that you can finally use your guiding light for yourself.

Someday soon I think, I'm going to bombard you with one good ton of letters. But I'll do that when I'm in the mood to lose my way with words. Not now.

All that being said, I'd really like it if, every once in a while you'd just look back and smile. 

Now don't tell me you didn't know this is where I was going. Because hey - you do mean a great deal to me. Wishful thinking, my ass.

Take care, you.
Keep them batteries charged, you never know when someone else might need them.

X-x-X

Do I need to include a Fiction tag or can I do away with the formalities? I'll choose the latter, thanks.

I was thinking of posting this in a series I'd thought up eons back, called Unsigned, but it needs a lot of work and I still have my goddamned exams to be done with. If it does kick into action, though, I'll just make a few changes to this one and post. ^_^ 

But, for whatever reason, I thought this up an hour back, typed it and I just had to post this. 

One for the road, folks. 

There's many more where that came from.

Cheers.

Layman's Guide To: Disappointments

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 8:44 PM

1

  When you've lived for a certain number of years (preferably in puberty) you'll meet a certain vague entity that goes by the name 'Disappointment'. Funny, you think it is? Don't. 
  There is a lot that Disappointment has to offer. 

  With continued and repeated exposure to Disappointment, you'll learn how it works. And most of it, besides being unarguably and wholly sad, is disappointing, but more on that later. (Yes, it's an infinite loop!)
  The thing is, more often than not - and more sooner than later - that big bullying bitch everyone calls Disappointment is going to smack you right across your face and go, 'There. You needed to know that, you smartass.' And take note - you'll be referred to as a smartass irrespective of whether you think you are one, because Disappointment definitely thinks you are.
  And you'll nod your head quietly, as you feel the skin on your cheeks that has now turned warm - and you won't dare look up. Or, if you like to roll differently, you'll retort with an insult; an expletive, perhaps, and scream at the top of your lungs. But Disappointment never responds - it just leaves you alone to your thoughts, your reveries, your epiphanies. 
  Never once does it look back.

It takes many forms, acquires many figures and disguises, by the time it reaches you. 
  It could come to you as the early morning train you missed at a metro station. Or it could come to you as rain on that day that you'd hoped it would be sunny. It could be a bulb that fails to light up, a pen that refuses to write, or a pair of earphones that just doesn't untangle. In any form, whether discreet or noticeable, it will come to you.
  It could masquerade as that mark sheet of a test that you thought had gone very well. Or as that failed friendship that you'd been working so hard on, you almost wonder how it ever got so bad. Or as words, as lies, from someone you'd expected nothing but the truth from. Or it could be silence - unbearably painful, painfully unbearable. 
  It could be the face of an old flame you still think you have a shot with, or the smile of a teacher you'd once thought unkindly of, or the unfaltering respect of a junior you had once pushed around just for fun.
  It could be something you desired, possessed, held - but lost. A gift from a loved one? Or it could be something you desired, wanted to possess, hold - but couldn't. A trophy, a medal, an award? A rare piece of metal? An expensive piece of equipment?
  Somebody's attention?

Anything can disappoint you - from the way people act, to the way you do; from the way the way things were supposed to be, to the way things weren't supposed to be; from the way the day starts to the way the day ends. And if you don't learn to deal with it, mark the words, here: You're fucked.
  Because somewhere along the way you'll realize there are only one of two roads that you can opt for when you encounter Disappointment: either regret it, and complain - 'Dammit, it's raining!' 'Shit, I should've scored 10 more marks!' 'God, I need more pens!'
  Or you could move the fuck on and do something about it, and in the process, learn. Because when you regret, you don't learn - you just disappoint yourself further. And unless you want to put yourself in an endless circle of disappointment, you should keep on regretting. And who knows, someday Disappointment might actually get tired of slapping you and kick you in the crotch instead!

Now wait. Here's the really funny bit: even if you do choose to learn, you'll be disappointed. Why, you ask? Because you'll think to yourself, 'Damn, I should've already known that.' And in conclusion to that already concluding statement, you just might tell yourself, 'Yes, you should've, you dumbfuck.' 
  Or maybe you wouldn't, if you don't have multiple personalities.
  So, in conclusion (for real, this time) - always take disappointment in the right spirit. And never, fucking ever regret.

Do this, instead:
  Make friends with Disappointment. Take it out for coffee, and when the time feels right, kiss it. Then, sleep with it.
  Why?
  Because all those slaps made you horny.


X-x-X