Love

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 10:12 PM

3

This following post is a Fiction 55, wherein the post has to be finished in or under 55 words. And this is my very first one! :)

She woke up in the morning, cursing herself, everyday. She couldn't get accustomed to the feeling that engulfed her...

For, the shell of obstinacy that surrounded her, was unbreakable.

But, she was a human after all...
She had feelings too.

Yes, she was in love.
And she hated every minute of it.

                                                                         * * *
[I did it. I finished the Bitch Challenge given to me by Remya Raj. And I ended it with a Fiction 55! Cool! Comment now, wouldn't ya?]

Arranged Marriage

| Posted in , , | Posted on 5:26 PM

0

Hello

This is the first time
We're meeting
And I do not wish
To be straightforward

But I will tell you this...

I haven't known you long enough
And therefore I do not
Love You

I will be terribly disheartened
If I have hurt you
Or have broken your heart
In any possible way

But I just can't help it!

I am ashamed of myself
But still I'll be honest
With you...

My parents forced me into this.

Dear Physics, Chemistry and Maths books
For the XIth Grade,
I am sorry.

Srimanta Mitra :)

Ten Free Drinks

| Posted in , , , | Posted on 12:27 PM

2

[NOTE: I had to squeeze this one out of me, just like I had to with 'The Alley' To be fairly honest, I dislike this one as much as the last one I wrote, but it was a challenge right? Do tell me how you guys found it, though :P]

   He had been a genius ever since I'd met him in Stanford. He performed well at a majority of classes even though he hardly satisfied the attendance requirements. I'd see him work on and on for hours; while I was wasting my time playing hacky-sack or whatever. He was, to me, always the ideal student - hard-working, attentive, mindful. And yet, he was the ideal friend too.
   We had quite a few dorm-room parties during our Stanford years. We used to call these 'Space Rock Sessions', partly because of our love for the genre of music but wholly because of the repetitive feeling of being in space that we had on combining cigarettes with vodka - We had a full neat drink of Vodka and then we'd smoke a few sticks; and we'd do it again and again, mixing different juices with the Vodka each time. It was just the two of us - and our randomosity. 
   I've forgotten all but one of these Space Rock Sessions, thanks to all the alcohol. 
                                                         * * * 
   Radiohead was playing in the background and I was drinking something that was greenish in colour; it reminded me of grass. Leonard's drink was pink. A random conversation followed.
   'Do you know?' Leonard began thoughtfully.   
   'What?'
   'You know what you're gonna do after you're done with Stan?'
   'I dunno man... probably get a job if I'm lucky enough.. and then get married If i'm lucky enough... and then have kids..'
   'No man! Not that! I mean.. don't you like... have plans?'
   'What plans? You make plans? I laugh at those who do! PLANS SUCK MAN!'
   'Screw you dude. I'm just thinking... what if I don't get into IBM or Dell or HP? What the fuck will I do then?'
   'Dude! Chill! Just get any random 9 to 5 job. As long as you get paid, what the fuck do you need to worry about? I mean, it's not like your parents are gonna be all, 'Oh, son, get outta the freaking house, pay your own bills' and shit. Just chill man. You're a freaking genius. You'll get any job you want. I'm gonna be the one stuck till god-knows-when!'
   'You know what dude? That is what will get you down. Your confidence. You're freaking brilliant too, man. Just stop undermining yourself.'
   'Yeah man whatever... I need another drink'
    I got up to get another drink, but I must've passed out before I could've 'cause that's everything my memory can serve. The next time I had a drink with him was probably a full year after that Space Rock Session.
                                                       * * * 
   A month after campus placements had taken place, he had called me to our favorite nightclub - Regina.
   He was in a seat by the bar. Yet again, his drink was pink.
   'Wassup, man!?' I asked him ecstatically. 
   'Nothing, dude. What happened with the job thing? You got a job yet?'
   'Fuck no man. I'm still searching for 'em bitches. Anyway man, you tell me... how much are they paying you in IBM?'
   'I didn't get the job'
   'Whaaaaaaaaat? You serious? Gimme Dell dude... how much in Dell? You got Dell right?'
   'Nope'
   'The HELL? What happened man?'
   'I dunno... the interviews were pretty good. I dunno why I didn't make the cut.' He didn't sound like he should have while he said it. His voice didn't have the angst nor the sadness that I imagined it would have.
   'What the hell dude?' I said with a slight smirk. He was handling himself surprisingly well. 'Didn't you always wanna have a good job that paid you golden eggs?'
   'Yeah man. Whatever. Screw them.' His cellphone rang. He excused himself and started talking.
   Leonard surprised me. He worked like an ass his years in Stanford, and yet now he was absolutely fine with not having one of the best jobs available. Astonishing indeed.
   As I was sipping my drink at that time, I remembered a story I read when I was a child. It was about a fox and a tree of grapes. The fox wanted to have grapes, so he gave his best shot and jumped up to have a mouthful; and he failed. He tried, and tried, and tried; but yet, he failed. So he convinced himself that the grapes weren't worth his effort and consoled himself saying the grapes were sour. 
   Was Leonard acting like the fox? Did it really not matter to him as much as it should have? Was he working towards achieving sour grapes all this time? Or was he too much in control of himself to show that he cared?
   He kept his phone down and was walking towards me.
   'So, dude... are you really sure you didn't want to be in one of those MNCs? I mean... seriously, man. Think. They're not sour grapes,' I said.
   'What the fuck? Sour grapes?' he asked, baffled. 'Ignoring the last comment, I'll tell you something important about myself. And it might take a while. Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking alright? Okay?'
   'Sure, man. Hit me!' As if an explanation to his foxy behavior was something I wasn't willing to listen.
   'See, man. We all have different minds, right? And I've discovered something about mine. I can't tell you if it's good or bad... it's just what it is.
   'When I was younger, I found out that I could trick my mind into believing things. Not like making it believe bullshit like I can travel back in time, no. I figured that I was contagious. If you were to tell me that this drink that I am drinking now, was pure piss BEFORE I'd started drinking it, trust me I'd have believed you. So I started playing games with my head. That's how I made myself study Physics and Chemistry, man. All that I could read in XIth and XIIth grade was because I'd forced myself to like what I was reading. You think I liked Physics? From the first to the very last day that I'd spent in Stanford I'd believed it was refined horse crap. Doesn't work always, I know, but thankfully it did the trick for me then...'
  'So, basically, you just told me the secret to scoring killer grades... Alright, that is nice. But, you didn't quite tell me what I wanted to know.'
  'Didn't I ask you to shut up? Anyway, if I were to tell you that I'm gonna buy you ten free drinks, how would you feel? There is catch, of course.'
  'I'd tell you I am as ready as I could ever be.'
  'Okay. So, there's this coin, right?' He took out a coin from his pocket. 'I'm gonna toss this coin thrice. What's your call?'
  'Heads!'
  'Okay. If the coin says 'Heads' even once, you get ten free drinks. Okay?'
  'What the hell, OF COURSE IT'S OKAY!'
  He tossed it once. Tails.
  Again. Tails.
  Once more. Tails.
  I stared at him in disbelief.
  'What the fuck just happened?' I retorted. 'Does the coin have 'HEADS'?
  He slid the coin over to me. Holy Mother Of God, it did.
  He started speaking. 'Since you are obviously familiar with the concept of Probability, you'd have thought that the chances of the coins landing a 'Heads' once was obviously around 84%. Right?'
  'Of course, dude. You don't think I failed the Tenth grade do you?
  'Control your sarcasm, ass. In calculating what percentage of chances you had for winning, you had forgotten to account for something else altogether, and that was the most important thing.'
   'What?'
   'Fate. See dude, if you think that doing your bit of the chore is gonna get you everywhere in life, you're quite obviously mistaken. Working hard is important, sure - but at the end of the day, you can't disagree with the fact that you might have something else in store for you. And it's always for your own good. And I'll tell you this - if you have done your part of the cycle, just relax. You know you'll get paid for your hard work. It always pays. So I'm not sad. Not at all'
   'So... what you're saying is... you're not sad at all? You're not sad for wasting 15 hours a day studying what you 'made' yourself like? You're not sad because you're gonna be paid for only a fraction of what you should be paid?'
   He didn't reply at once. He waited for the words to sink in and said, 'See dude, it's like this: If I don't get a job that I wanted - and I'd worked for - it doesn't really matter. I believe I am mature enough to handle rejection and accept my own destiny. I'm gonna be sad, hell yeah, but it's more like getting over a high school relationship. It'll happen eventually. And you know what? Chill. Since you know that you've done your bit, just have a drink and go sleep. If it helps, have a whole load of drinks. But remember to never let it get you, man. That is the important bit.'
   And he finished his drink
   You know how there are times in your lives when you feel you are nothing? Like, on the face of this earth, you're probably one of those undeserving fools who just have everything they want without having worked for it? That's exactly how I felt when Leonard finished. That guy just gave a reasonable explanation to him not being sad, whereas, had I been in his place, I'd have let everything go to hell. And I'd be sitting around being depressed all the time.
   I didn't know how it felt to have worked day and night for something and then having lost it.
   I didn't believe I was mature enough to handle rejection.
   But Leonard...
   Goddamn him.

The Seven Ages [My First Poem]

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 11:45 PM

3

  [So, uh... I wrote this thing way back in the ninth grade. Our English literature book had an extract from William Shakespeare's As You Like It called 'The Seven Ages,' and our English teacher asked all the students in the class to write their own interpretation of it, in the form of a poem or whatever. So I wrote mine and I stood second, and it's probably gonna be the only prize I'll ever win for poetry. I've left this thing unedited, though I'd so LOVE to make a few edits. :)]



The Seven Ages




When I was an infant,
I heard I used to be cute
But I would trouble my parents
And everywhere I would puke

In my childhood,
I learnt things like 'ABC'
And though my parents were too busy,
They took time out to play with me

In my adolescence,
I would have fun with my friends…
And I wouldn't stop crying
When a ‘Relationship’ ends

Step into youth,

I’m all armed and ready to fight!
And seeking all the glory
I would work hard day and night

In my middle age, 

I had to work to earn my dime
But I dint respond to my family’s call
And that sure was a crime

In my old age, 

My children took care of me
I took a lot of medicines
But my children, they helped me see

And now, people think I’ve grown old

But I've been reduced to a child
And I await my death…
I want it to be peaceful and mild

Srimanta Mitra 

IX-A

Durga Puja

| Posted in , | Posted on 2:46 AM

2

The excited youth, in high spirits
Is bringing Durga Maa from her home
To her land where she belongs;
Where an anxious mass awaits her arrival

The priests and their helping hands
Are cleaning and decorating the Puja Mandap
For, Durga Maa is finally arriving at her Maternal Home
And there is no room for even a single speck of dust

A crowd of young children
Is dancing to the percussion of the Dhaki,
Since the year long wait has culminated
And the festivities will resume again...

And the one week in a Bengali's life
Where people, prayers and food
Are found in abundance, will begin.
And naturally, everyone's excited.

Me too.

Chicks Vs. Guitars

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 2:23 AM

0

   It's 1:15 AM, and I swear I don't feel like sleeping.

   I was thinking about guitars, and about chicks. And I wondered about what I could probably want more, and guess what I came up with?

   Guitars - Once, twice, thrice, and if need be, a hundred times.


   Well, that being said I can't obviously deny the fact that I need human companionship, reciprocal of feelings, this that, that this, all sorts of bullshit. But yes, I do know that I am really not interested in dating right now, but I obviously still  would want to play a guitar.

   So, now I'll list my reasons. Guitars have:


  • Better Necks - Have you ever felt a maple neck on a guitar? I mean, seriously, HAVE YOU? And if the Fingerboard's maple too then there's obviously nothing better in this world. Think about it. A girl's neck isn't available in C,D and V shapes and isn't nearly as awesome as the one which a guitar offers. Moreover in the case of bolt-on necks, they're easily changeable if they get damaged. How would you like to change the neck on your gal?
  • Controllable Knobs - If you didn't already know, guitars come with knobs with which you can control things such as tone and volume. You even get a coil tap switch in a few guitars. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that you have complete control over it, whereas that is far from the truth in case of girls. I mean, suppose she's pissed at you, and starts shouting, you can't just roll the volume knob all the way down to zero to shut her up can you?
  • Cooler Bends - This one's slightly perverted. Alright, VERY perverted. But you know it's true, right? Guitar strings are bend-able, and that might not be the case with your gal. If she's into power yoga though, it might be a totally different case.
  • Awesomer Squeals - Slightly perverted again, but this one makes more sense. If you've heard of pinched harmonics, you probably know that you can make your guitar squeal whenever you desire. Add the whammy for extra 'feel' if you want.
  • Low(er) Maintenance Cost - How much did you spend the first time you took your girl out on a date? How much did you spend on the next one? And the one that followed? And the subsequent dates which followed? Add all that up. Now, how much does a set of strings cost? Find that out and multiply it by the no. of times you've had your strings changed, and tell me, which one's higher? If you've arrived at the conclusion that maintaining a guitar is more expensive, then obviously, either you change strings every two weeks OR your gal is anorexic and doesn't like eating much.
  • No Jealousy - Since we all know the fact that our gal might feel jealous if we start talking to a bunch of other chicks, it would probably be safe to assume that it is, even if we would like to disagree, a little bit of a pain in the ass, right? I mean, she just might not realize that I love only her and I'm just having a laugh with other people of the opposite sex! That's not the same with guitars, though. You can own 200 of them and play only 20 and the others wont even do so much as to break their own strings.

   I can go on and on and on and on and on, but I think I should put in one last reason. Guitars are, and this one's undeniably true:

  • Worth Fighting For - You fight with another random guy who's into the same chick as you are, and even if you end up winning the fight, there's no absolute guarantee that she's gonna choose you over the other guy. She might start hating you for beating that guy up, or not talking to her before taking such a step, and this that, that this, all sorts of bullshit. But if you fight for a guitar, you'll know it'll never leave your side. It'll be there with you till its neck is worn out over time. And that is when you'll know it has done you good, and it should probably rest. And I speak from experience 'cause I have played a guitar that is as old as me, 15, and trust me, she still has some of the awesomeness that she had in her when she was just made. I affectionately call her Maple.

Maple

    And in case you were wondering about the sex part, [Well, silly me, of course you were wondering about the sex part!] in Slash's autobiography, he himself thought that sex was the best thing in the world, until he played guitar. And all the other guitarists' whose biographies I have read, which have not mentioned it, feel the same way, obviously.

                                                           -x-x-x-

  Disclaimer: Product Of Intense Boredom. Seriousness unintended. No offence to girls ---> You MAKE  us guys, quite literally speaking. How can we possibly consider you unworthy of us? 

  Note To Dumbasses Who Think I'm Gay: Read Disclaimer Again.

  Note To Feminists: No Chauvinism Intended. Read Disclaimer Again.

The Alley...

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 10:27 PM

4

August
1987

  Adèle Blanc stared blankly at the man in front of her and speculated what she would do in the next half a minute. She knew she had to act fast, and that time wasn't on her side then. The man grunted and charged towards her. She mustered up all the courage she had and kicked him - in the crotch. He winced, and let out a cry that gave Adèle goosebumps. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

  She knew she had bought herself another few seconds on the clock, but she knew only too well, that it just wouldn't stop ticking.

  She took out her gun.

  Every inch of her shivered as she pulled it out from her waist. The cold steel made her weak. The nerves at the end of her fingers seemed to have died. And the gun: It felt heavy, too much for her to carry. It took her a Herculean effort to be holding it.

  The man was struggling to get up. A puny kick to his crotch wasn't going to stop him, for sure.

  She curled her index finger around the trigger.

  The man got up. He looked at Adèle, his look one of pure disgust, his eyes flashing hatred; his smile diabolical. He saw Adèle standing in front of him, holding a gun. A tiny young girl is going to hurt me now, he thought mockingly. His lips curled into an infernal, hellish smile. Adèle couldn't look at him anymore. She closed her eyes.

  And fired.

  The bullet came tearing out of the gun. The noise was deafening. The recoil was constraining. The bullet had hit him straight in the heart. The man fell on his back, blood spurting from his wound. He took his last breath.

  Adèle didn't realize how fast it had happened. It took a moment for the situation to sink in. Tears formed in her eyes, and she bit her lip to control the sudden outburst of emotion. Her hand was now numb, and she lost sensation of her fingers, her hands, her body. And yet, she was still holding the gun.

  She flung the gun in whichever direction her hands permitted her to. Then, she quietly made her way behind a car, sat down, and started sobbing.

  She never wanted any of this to happen. She always wanted to be a simple girl... living a simple life. The sudden change of events that had taken place in her life were too much for her to handle. She wanted a sedative... a pacifier. She'd never imagined herself doing this. She saw blood all over her hands, she saw sin. She wanted to wash it all away, to forget all of this. She wanted to be innocent again. She wasn't a killer was she? Was she?

  The men who had brought her to do this were now gathering in front of her. The man with the cane, who she assumed was their leader, was standing in the center. He came up to her and offered her his hand. 'Come,' he said. 'You've had your first visitor in hell. We all welcome you.' She didn't want to take his hand, but she was too shaken up to even bother who the man was. 'Remember though,' he added. 'These are the streets. You don't win battles here... you survive them...'

                                                               -x-x-x-

This is the first of three stories that I have been 'Challenged' to write by Remya Raj. They must be different and varied and unrelated to each other. And they cannot be about dating girls or anything. And so my first attempt. [This btw, I might expand on... but exams are starting. That's no reason though, the real reason being I'm lazy :D]

Another Maths Class

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

9

   
   She sat there, scribbling in her notebook. Jotting down everything the teacher said. She fiddled with her pony tail and moved a fringe that fell on her face. The tiny strands of her hair seemed to be dancing to the rhythm of the wind blowing from an open window. How beautiful was she? I thought I'd waste another block period of maths thinking about her, but then decided against it. I placed my head over my crossed arms, not caring about her; about anything that was going on in class, believing that ignorance was bliss. But I'd forgotten to account for the fact that it hardly ever was...
 
   'So, dear sleepy child,' said the teacher, her comment aimed obviously towards me. 'Would you be willing to tell me what the division algorithm is?' I'd heard that before, but I couldn't come to terms with my head so as to recall what it meant. 'No idea,' I said, realizing soon that it wasn't quite the time to be frank. 'Oh,' she retorted. 'This brilliant child here does not know about the division algorithm! Tell me kid, did you ever pass the 5th grade?' I didn't like the way her tone dripped with sarcasm. A lot of my classmates did though - some of them laughed. I wanted to answer back, but then I realized it was rhetoric. I surrendered. 'I'm really sorry ma'am. I wasn't paying attention... I have a headache.' I hoped she'd believe me. 'Okay, okay, you sit down,' she replied instantly. 'Make sure that doesn't happen again.' I sat down, nodding.

   I looked at my watch again. God, all of that and so much more had happened in only fifteen minutes! Was my watch even working? I remember I'd read about how Einstein once said, that the closer you get to light speed, the slower things move around you. If that were true, and I can only assume it was, I was travelling about a few kilometers slower than light speed. Maths was getting unbearable. I told the teacher that my head was about to burst, and excused myself so I could go to the medical room. And if you've ever been an over-pressurized, over-burdened student of a middle class family, or have known one, you'll know what they do when they excuse themselves to go outside.

   I walked down to the fields, the gentle drizzling of rain elating me. I sat down on the foyer stairs, thinking about what to do. Was I gonna go back to class after a while, back into that numerical hell? God, no. Going back to class was way out of the equation. I climbed up the stairs, onto the first floor of the foyer...
   
   What the brightest of minds that the school had produced didn't know, was that there were shafts attached to the foyer. And what the teachers with the highest IQs had never really cared about, was that those very shafts were used by the students to indulge in a rather unacceptable form of recreation - smoking.

   The shafts weren't my most frequented place - I'd hardly go there once or twice a month. Smoking wasn't a habit... it was more of an occasional energy drink. I got my pack from under the Control Room on the roof of the auditorium. Nobody cared enough to search for things under it, or maybe the cleaners were just lazy. I'd always wondered if I was right in assuming that the cleaners took cigarettes, but the number of cigarettes had noticeably decreased since the last time I'd seen it. I lit one up. The shaft was soon filled with smoke, and instead of feeling suffocated, I felt liberated - like I wanted to lose myself in the shafts; to disappear like the smoke; to vanish into thin air.

   I tried to make sense out of the smoke that rose from the cigarette, but all in vain. There was no definite shape, no specified direction - it just went wherever it felt like. Another reason why I liked cigarettes: it reminded me of freedom time and time again. It's as if the smoke was freed from the cigarette after it was burnt. I don't know how much time I spent pondering, but I do know this - sometime between being fascinated by smoke and relating it to liberty, I started thinking about her...

   I don't know when it happened... It just did. All I remember is looking at her... and staring, with my eyes wide open. I longed to see her everyday at school since then. She looked like a goddess, an offspring of Aphrodite. Her eyes, underlined with Kohl, were too expressive; too alluring for me to not look at whenever she was in my vicinity. Her hair was carefully tied into a pony most of the time, and I'd always wanted to smell them, but God hadn't been fair enough to give me a chance. I'd go crazy whenever she opened them, too. And her smile. God, she had the most infectious smile anyone could possiby have. When she laughed, she beamed. She glowed. And I wished I could have that look for myself. To look at her whenever I had the desire. To laugh when I felt like crying....

   I was sure that wasn't going to happen, though.

   On her birthday, I'd chosen to give her a gift anonymously. I slipped in a CD of Taylor Swift's Fearless into her bag just before school ended and hoped, silently, that'd she like it. The next day she came and told all of her friends that she loved it. I got the news from one of our mutual friends. I hadn't smiled like that in months, years maybe. I had never felt so genuinely happy.

   After a few weeks, this close friend of mine, who also happened to be one of hers, told me something I prayed wasn't true: She liked someone else. 'How much?' was all I'd managed to speak, fighting all the emotion that was stuck in my throat; holding back all the tears that were now struggling to run down my face.

   He shook his head.

   And then I was sitting in a shaft, smoking a cigarette with slow, long drags, and wondering, just what the fuck had happened to me?

   In introspect, I'd never thought of myself as a guy who'd obsess over some girl, and be enough of a wimp to not even tell her about it. In retrospect, how I could feel for someone so much, was something that I was yet to discover. I almost cried when I got to know that she liked someone else. Ha! Felt so incredibly stupid then. Not to mention ridiculous. It felt insane, yet somehow innocent. I realized that it was just another one of those phases that I had to go through in life; another change of trains before I reached my destination. Of course I'd take my  own sweet time to move on. My face had a childlike smile pasted on it, and I knew... she was just another one of them. Just another star shining in the sky. Not the sun.

   I stubbed out the cigarette, and the bell rang, marking the end of another period. I realized I hadn't heard the bell ring for the beginning of the second Maths period. Gosh, I must've been thinking real hard. I really was: I'd finally decided that she just wasn't worth all the time I had wasted on her; that it was time to move on.

   And come to think of it, all of that happened in just another maths class.

                                                         -x-x-x-

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of pure fiction.

Rain

| Posted in , , | Posted on 10:28 AM

5

Rain is beautiful, seductive
Making their way down
From the clouds; the heavens
Falling on the tress, the ground, the buildings

The droplets tell stories of freedom,
Of how they break their chains, their bonds
Their courage outdoing their dependence
On the clouds, the heavens

And we talk to them
About how they light up our lives
And effect them in ways unimaginable -
Beyond the thinking of man

They cause destruction too:
Wreaks, havocs, floods
Inflicting damage worth millions,
Affecting lives in yet other ways

But we, we understand no moroseness,
For we are oblivious to other's pain
And we can't help but ask them for a favor:
Dear beloved rain, please stay forever!
                                                                                
Srimanta Mitra


[This is a byproduct of another yet horrifyingly boring History period. History sucks. Writing doesn't. :)]

Damn You Xth Grade!!!

| Posted in , , , , , , , , , | Posted on 9:31 PM

1

What happens when you score 20/20 on your Maths Unit Test? You celebrate? - No. You bust your ass and work harder for the next one, of course. And to add to that, you get your ass busted by those who didn't score 20/20.

It's been over a goddamned month and I haven't had the time to write. Screw you Xth Grade! You're making me sad, and angry, and dejected, and pissed - all at the same time. I didn't even know I could feel all of that at one time. It sucks. It' a downward spiral - and goddammit I don't care if the circles are concentric!

It's literally impossible for me to be paying attention in class all the time. Why should I anyway? Geography? Should I fucking care if the winds are blowing from south to north or east to west? Should I care if there's bhangar nodules in black alluvial soil? I'm sorry, I have tried. And I have failed - repeatedly. Over and over again.

My parents keep telling me not to waste this time, these years. They say it can either make you or break you. I say I've been broken way before all of it even started. But that doesn't matter - I'll sacrifice a little. After all, if you don't make sacrifices, you'll never be a true man. Not to me atleast. All this stuff about being an engineer and studying science and scoring marks and doing this and doing that is eventually gonna make me crazy. They're gonna have to move me. The men in white coats will take me away.

And, my guitar. It just lies there - the dust feeding on it, on it's strings. Nobody can see it, but I do. It cries, wanting to be held, to be felt. And I? I drown myself in my books.


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