Another ramble

I was all set to write a great post on my less-than-a-week-old trip to Bhutan, which has successfully surpassed our previous international trip (refer to my earlier post) to Paris-Switzerland, in terms of fun, sightseeing and a truckload of memories. Well, whilst each country has its own appeal, Bhutan has allured me with its old-world charm, its postcard perfect landscapes, and its people whose happiness is infectious and whose smiles are a part of their attire.

I was all set to write more about it. But I'm not able to.

Sorry, this one is going to be a bit of a downer.

It's almost as if returning to Pune has drained us all off the excitement and zeal that was quite rampant in our house, two weeks ago. Of course, this would easily pass as a chronic case of holiday blues, but weirdly enough, methinks there's more to this.

I sit here, procrastinating once again, when I should be reading up on topics for my final semester project. I detest social media for getting me addicted to this screen, as I refresh that damned Facebook page every now and then, keeping my eye on the notification bar. Occasionally, I scroll down my feed, often encountering numerous, pointlessly profound quotes on love and sex, or Narendra Modi memes, or posts on dogs ridden with cancer, or worse, status updates that are akin to NDTV's banal updates about the sickening scenario against women in our country.

I am disgusted at how negative I sound. Surely, there's more to life than scrolling down one's Facebook feed.

I'm scrounging for notifications because I am eager to get more response on my first ever travel documentary that I uploaded two days ago. No points for guessing this one; it is based on Bhutan.
I get a feeling that I made this film only to garner appreciation and praises, and not to get feedback. I can say this with conviction because the other day when Mum tried to suggest some tips on improving my video, I got mad at her. Lately, I have been getting irritated with her for no good reason and I know I'm going to regret it, sooner or later.

The comments have been more than satisfactory, but there is this particularly genuine and sweet comment that keeps playing in my mind, yet bothers me. My close friend considers me as an inspiration, because according to her I'm multi-talented. I write, sing, play the guitar, click pictures and now, film videos. Her words make me feel warm from within. It makes me realise the extent of under-estimation and self-scrutiny I put myself through, all the time, everyday.

It makes me realize that undergoing complete personality transformation is a load of crock, honestly speaking. Deep down, I'm still that kid who occasionally suffers from performance anxiety, and mild self-esteem issues. How can I change that? The only probable answer to it is acceptance, and just moving on, really.

I'm also, extremely afraid of envy being directed towards me. More that once, I've sensed myself showing-off way too much and that maybe I'm going overboard with my creative side.

Some days, when I wake up, I tell myself that I'm going to delete my redundant social media accounts and start afresh. I was actually contemplating on starting a new blog on WordPress, deleting the so-called photoblog on Tumblr/Flickr/, and creating a fresh account on Instagram, but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't have the guts to deactivate my Facebook account either. It's like some stupid yet ironic lifeline. It has become my ritual to feign determination and tell myself that I'll chalk out some sort of a career plan, but it all goes in vain. Why, just yesterday I felt happy with the course my life has taken, but today I'm back to feeling purposeless. And no, it's not PMS.

For now, I guess I'm so steeped in negativity that I probably need to get my eyes off this screen, and indulge in something that makes me happy. It has almost become a reflex to pick up my phone and click photos of the food I cook, the pictures I paint, and the stuff I write on paper. It's like I'm living my life for a virtual world with virtual friends;  yep the ones I would awkwardly encounter in a mall or something. Ugh, what the hell.

Anyway, here's a pointless end to a pointless post. Gotta go inform my friend that I wrote a new post today.

Bye.

There is no Secret

I never wanted to believe that book.

First of all, I love the comfort of staying in denial (well, who doesn't?). I applaud myself, as I type this because I swear, I'm not too comfortable with confessions. But then, I'm barely the person I was last year, who preferred basking in illusions. So hey, here's to self-awakening. Cheers.

For long, I have been trying to evade the law of attraction mumbo-jumbo. I must say I still disagree with it sometimes, especially its implausibility in certain scenarios. However, as much as I'd love to deny it vehemently, I think it's pretty fail-proof.

Oh man.

I'm not worried. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not..I'm..

Of course, I was worried. Worried about not getting into a good college. Worried about being subjected to a miserable social life. Worried about being in anyone's bad books. Worried about getting into a bad relationship. Denying simply brought me more grief in the form of anxiety attacks.

And it just attracted more worry. It still does, at times. I ask myself, what comfort did/do I cling to by perpetually floundering in a sea of unease? I suppose the answer lies within me. Oh, I tend to get intense, once in a while.

As I type this, I try to unwind or 'chill' (I loathe that word). But, anxiety is a loyal friend, that strives to stay as long as it can. I have tried or rather, am trying to abandon it with the help of my faithful Fender, or an occasional bottle of Old Monk (though I may add, this is hardly the weather to relish rum).

I think at this point, I'm drifting.

I don't remember what I intended to write in the first place. All I know is, I actually had no intention of finishing this post when I began typing and deleting word after word, two weeks ago. That was when my examinations were successfully on their mission of zapping my enthusiasm. But, strangely enough, I kept convincing myself that I was going to finish typing something that day, maybe spout some deep-seated wisdom that I usually reserve for myself and my moody conscience. Of course, that was a farce. I hope I manage to finish writing something, today.

I told myself I will steer away from romance (the sort that allures a girl on the brink of twenties, portraying itself to be rational) and the ephemeral rosiness it brings along, during my final year of undergraduate studies. I told myself a lot of other things like I'd blog more often. That I'd complete all the unfinished music, that bothers me till date. The fact that I had to constantly make a note of such things, makes me realize that I had always wanted to do the opposite. And that's why I ended up heading towards the opposite.

I entered third year, love struck. I now exit feeling blank.  I blog once in three months. My music lies unfinished in a virtual closet. Because, this is precisely what I wanted. I don't know why. But I think I do.

On the lighter side, the one thing that I did finish is my project. My final semester project was successful, because I wanted it to be so. And that time I didn't need to make notes, and set up reminders.

The book says the same. I don't follow the book. It's bullshit.

But I know I do. Subconsciously.

There's no secret. You get what you think.

Purpose

Okay, I think I'm in a mood for one of my philosophical rants. It's been ages I know, for I have gone through my old posts. When was the last time I had actually sat down before this blank box with the purpose of unleashing a reflective verbal diarrhea?

For some reason I feel my attempt at that might fail today.

They say purpose is the key to achievement, to success and you know, all that. It is, but true that purpose does keep you unfazed through the nasty surprises hurled at you through the course of a  turbulent trip to *insert destination*. Nasty surprises have always followed a repetitive pattern of appearing during some of the fantastic phases of your life. Stephen King puts it quite aptly, SSDD - Same Shit, Different Day.

However, there are days when I dedicate an entire weekend to recording a new piece of music I have composed, but the whole attempt is a waste owing to an unfortunate process of recording, getting dissatisfied, deleting the track, re-recording, getting my hopes up high, discovering faults, getting frustrated, and so on. It's a futile consequence to a purposeful endeavour.

On the other hand, there are days when a sudden inspiration urges me to grab my microphone and guitar and I end up with a satisfactory rendition of my composition.

Purpose leads to expectations, and the latter are fickle minded when it comes to making one happy. What about a well-organized party turning out to be average with a low guest count? What about a trip planned way in advance with the ideal itinerary, that gets screwed up? You go well prepared for an examination and that turns out to be your worst one till date. You intend to deliver a well-rehearsed speech at a gathering, but one look at the audience is enough to drench you in cold sweat and incoherence. In fact, preparing posts prior to the A-Z blog challenge did no good either; I gave up, quarter way through.

Does this mean that being prepared, purposeful and expectant is wrong? Course not. It's just that one  diverts so much energy towards the positive outcomes of his intention, that the other alternative gets sidelined; the alternative of a failure. How can it go wrong when I'm ready and all prepped? No way, it's going to be kick-ass. And, that's where one falls short.

What about all those times when I picked up the first dress I saw on a mannequin, just an hour before a big party, that earned me several compliments? When my family planned a surprise trip to Thailand? When I delivered a heartfelt speech for my music teacher after a successful show? And when my friends and I threw an impulsive yet memorable party, a few hours after the very idea culminated in our minds?

None of us bothered about outcomes. Spontaneity aided us, and god alone knows what made our efforts tick. Technically speaking, we hadn't even given our efforts a thought. Come to face it, that party wasn't supposed to set tongues wagging for days to come or encourage Facebook statuses. But, it did.

Sometimes, it just depends on your luck, on the time, the situation, and the people around you; the appropriateness of everything at that moment which ultimately benefits you. Yet, sometimes it's just on how much we relax our ideals. The I'm-gonna-plan-my-summer-so-damn-well dogma could zap your energy, and before you even realise it, you are left with a forgettable vacation, not to mention scorching.

Moral of the story - I have come up with a abstruse post that may or may not be relished by you readers, but nevertheless leaves me feeling contented.

Clueless

Sometimes you feel you aren’t cut out for Something but for Something Else. Something Else is what you love dearly, without which you can’t imagine your life being the way it is. And hence you decide to screw Something, deviate from it’s path and move towards Something Else. But then, you realize Something Else comes with its share of responsibilities and baggage, most of which you were blissfully unaware of. And Something Else suddenly seems a bit too much to handle, though your love for it hasn’t diminished.

And now you feel pretty lost and clueless because you don’t know if you were cut out for Something Else in the first place. Weighing its pros against  cons isn’t a solution anymore.

Life comes to a standstill. Your brain seems to have flat-lined.

Breathe

I don't know why this month hasn't given me a sense of satisfaction. It began on a high note, you know. My first short story got published on Spark, I was rewarded with constructive criticism and appreciation likewise. I uploaded my compositions on my newly made Soundcloud account, and that seemed to be getting somewhere as well. But after that, life seems to have come to a stand still. And I seemed to be stuck in this rut.

I know it has been ages since I blogged. I can't pinpoint the exact reason for my abstinence from writing. Maybe it has been stress. The stress of harboring of new insecurities that have been lately popping into my mind. Or maybe, the stress of dealing with nasty surprises. Or maybe the very idea of dragging myself daily to a college that greets me with its revolting mediocrity. I don't know. But, I haven't been able to bring myself to write.

I'm staring at this blank box, waiting for my fingers to take charge of the keyboard, like they usually would. Instead, I get frustrated with myself for not being able to produce some sort of substantial content that could suffice as a blog post. Damn it.

An idle mind is a devil's workshop. Time being paralyzed, my mind has lately been occupied with thoughts of triviality. Even something as simple as reading a book seems to have become a bloody task. It's a phase of staring-at-words-till-they-lose-their-meaning, of worrying about others,  of analyzing the purpose of  studying Biotech, and of trying to convince myself that someday I'll be competent enough to look after myself (big, big thoughts of a lanky girl on the brink of bidding farewell to teenage).

Hence, I have been comforting myself with a camera,  a microphone, and this guitar. I have been advised to practice Yoga every morning, to calm my nerves that seem to saltate at the slightest stimulus these days (and the problem isn't PMS).

It's not like I haven't reached some kind of a solution. Breathing does soothe you. Shut your eyes, inhale slowly and deeply and vice verse. It's not that your brain is going to pause and linger in tranquility (if you read that somewhere, then that's bull).  But, the thoughts loosen up, and they float instead of ravaging in your head. You could let your worst fears play and replay as often as you wish and feel the fear element fading away gradually, until it dissipates into nothingness.


And you feel stronger. And calmer.

They tell you to listen to music, or paint. Or go stroll in a park. Or sleep it off. Or watch a stupid movie. Or read something inspirational. Or talk to someone. You could take your pick.

But, who thought that listening to oneself breathe is the best option of them all? I used to shrug it off. Never believed that paying attention to your lungs would be an excellent way to kick-start the whole relaxing process. One hears a lot of talk about surviving each day by learning from one's errors or by being thick skinned. Yet, in spite of keeping all that philosophical dissertation in mind one tends to overlook the fact that the very crux of survival lies in each breathe.

I suppose you get my point. I think I have had my quota of cliched mumbo jumbo. :-P

I need to take some time out to breathe. Breathing is easy peasy, simple pimple.

And.. I guess this is my post for the day.

How to get the ultimate Facebook profile picture. (Girls only. Period.)

• Apply the crimson-est lipstick you own on your lips.
• The ultimate gloss to get the succulent-juicy-lips look
• Smear kajal/eyeliner/shadow above and below your eyes. It’s okay if you look like a racoon. (photo editing will take care of all the blemishes.)
• Don’t forget the mascara.
• Your flicks or bangs should cover one eye. Straightened.Yeah, in order to get the bandit-queen look.
• Hold your camera/phone in one hand. Face the mirror. Or face your Macbook’s lens. If you own a DSLR, half your task has been accomplished. For real.
• Pout your lips, raise your eyebrow(s) (optional) or narrow your eyes. Make sure you look your sexiest best.
• Take a  picture.
• If not satisfied with the first attempt, try umpteen times until you get the desired look.
• Once you are satisfied, get to the crucial aspect of this process - Editing your picture.
• Adjust the highlights, shadow/contrast. You could increase the saturation to acquire the unreal, dreamy look. Or probably fiddle with focal gray-scale, HDR, etc. If you are a Photoshop expert, use your skills to the fullest.
• Edit, re-edit your picture until you are absolutely sure that it’s what you were aiming for.
• Finally, upload it on Facebook.
  
  
  Plus point
  Assures a complete transformation from Plain Jane to Miss Sexybitch.
  
  Minus point
  It is virtual.
  
  
  Caution : May fetch you a bandwagon of admirers online, but they might change their minds on meeting you in real (unless your virtual and real avatar gel well together.)
  
  
  
  
  - An extract from "Fits of Boredom"

Coffee shop

Polished mahogany

Untouched coffee

Lingering aromas

Diffusing slowly

As I wait

Calmly palpitating

At the table by the door

I ponder

Till my temples hurt

A sip of cappuccino

to sooth my nerves

Ripples on the surface

Deep brown and creamy

I stir them violently

Mini storm

In the coffee cup

Hot caffeine on my tongue

Bittersweet memories

Flood my brain

Bittersweet is what I taste

One second

One minute

An hour

Tick tock

Collected thoughts

Dissipate like the aroma

That lingers no more

Mahogany, once warm

Has gone cold

And I still wait

At the table by the door

Big Plans

Why is everything going against my favor? I want a lot of stuff to happen. To agree. All that wishful thinking to come true.

Do you hear me?

It's a question that bothers every believer.

I have my own staunch beliefs. I don't pray everyday. But I do think of you everyday. I just need to know if things will be alright.

Do I have to join my hands, bow my head, cross my legs, and recite prayers to get what I want?

I keep reassuring myself with the thought that you have big plans for me. I know you do. I can't wait for them to get actually implemented.

I'm not a practical person by nature. I am very impulsive, and I usually let my emotions take control of my rationality.

It's not like you don't read my mind. You do.


I remember a song I haven't heard in ages. I switch on the radio, and I hear it playing.

I miss my best friends terribly. I crave to see them. I receive a message from them stating they will be in town soon.

The minute I become over-confident, something brings me back to ground level.

I get a premonition that my grandfather is going to leave us forever very soon,and sure enough he does.

Is it a coincidence? Or are there omnipresent invisible detectors you have set up, to discern my musings, my speculations and intuitions?

I don't know.

I know you care. Sometimes everything moves so fast that I find it difficult to breathe, while sometimes it trudges drearily. How long should I wish for better circumstances?

I'm running out of whatever little patience I had, conserved so carefully.

Story of my Life

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over

But you didn't have to cut me off
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know

That I used to know

Clearing my head

I need to clear my head.
I need to stop thinking.
I need to have a good will power.

F.M.L.

The dreaded stranger

"..A stranger’s face is an unapproached potentiality, to be opened if one makes the choice and effort; this was a face known, closed and never to be reached again." 

- The Fountainhead

This is one of my favourite lines from this book. It sums up the concept of the dreaded variety of strangers.

Why dreaded? You require substantial amount of guts to face such faces; faces that are familiar, yet so distant. There are reasons, obviously, behind the aloofness and the void that replaces the intimacy and familiarity. All efforts to claim the remnants of old bonds are futile. You don't wait for the realisation to dawn upon you. You know it, because the reasons are linked to you.

The face represents the final stage of a relationship on the verge of snapping, like an overstretched rope that can withstand strain no more. It's the result of broken trust or spite or bitter resentment. The void leaves ample space for reproach, pain and a permanent ache. Memories are merciless. You wouldn't want to recall them, yet they come back to you; you can't control their surge.

You are so afraid. You would rather take harsh chastisement or blows than tolerate complete withdrawal  and lack of recognition. The latter is ten times worse.

But.

What if there are no solid reasons? What if it's just vagueness, finally leading to some decision?

What if you notice a gradual change in behaviour that transforms the person into a stranger?  You try your best to maintain the relationship but it's no good. Avoidance, excuses, distance and more distance. You aren't stupid. You learn to accept the detachment. You wonder what went wrong. And it's the same void that slowly replaces the closeness, you both shared.

You dread the face. You want to rebuke the stranger, knowing very well that indifference is the only reaction you can hope to receive. The doors will be closed, indefinitely.

What's the best option?

I don't know. I have experienced it. But I don't know the answer.

Time does her thing. Makes you drift away. Makes sure your mind is occupied by other incidents, events, memories.

Who knows? You might just stop dreading the stranger.

A stupid conscience

Why can't I be mean to anybody without experiencing this gnawing sense of GUILT, post meanness?

Random person X doesn't entertain lengthy conversations and cuts me off midway.

I try to induce some dryness in my response. Some rudeness. Try to give X a taste of his/her own medicine.

Later, I feel

Guilty.

Deja Vu.

हर साल वोही कहानी ...

It's been happening since the past three years. Ever since 2008, to be precise.

Enter Mr.X.

Not necessarily a guy over whom I end up having a major crush on.

Friend's friend. Friend's brother. Friend's boyfriend.

He seems to find me interesting.

Initially he associates me with words like Sensible.Smart.Sweet.Pretty.Cute.Fun-loving.

No one's perfect. A very cliched line I know.

Soon he realises that I have flaws. That I don't put up with bull****.

Scene change.

Now he associates me with words like Annoying.Short-tempered.A wee bit frank.Abrasive.Nagging.

Leaves Mr.X.

Not knowing what to do with yourself.

Okay I know I'm blogging like there's no tomorrow.
But.
You have been advised.
Warned.
Forbidden.
From doing something.
Because your well wishers don't want you to get hurt.
But you don't pay heed to all that and end up getting hurt.
Now what?

Extreme

"You can give everything you have to a person. You can love them with all you have. Then you realize they aren't the person you loved. You loved someone who was made up. You opened up to someone who couldn't even be honest about who they were. And you sit there feeling repulsed at yourself. How could I have missed this? You ask yourself angrily. How could I have been so naive? 

You start to reflect on every moment, every touch, every laugh. Was it real? Was any of it real? When's the last time things were right? And you just make yourself sad. You dig yourself a deep hole and you just sit in the bottom of it alone. Wondering why you ever gave in and trusted someone in the first place. "

- 'the musings of a wannabe star'

I have always been extreme when it comes to emotions. Be it love, anger, sadness or fear.
I overreact. I hyperventilate. I get extremely curious. When I open up to someone I pour out all my woes and worries to him or her. I analyze, ponder and worry too much.  I'm predictable. I get easily provoked. Overly affectionate, may I add. I can give my one hundred percent to someone I'm dearly fond of.

And that's when the trust breaks.

I never thought I was one for crying. Tears never spilled out that easily from my eyes. It had to be something earth shattering or nerve racking that would make me break down. But soon enough I was proved wrong.

I loved dearly. I'm still afraid to let go. I lie to everyone and to myself about things being okay. Nothing is okay. My best friends are tired and annoyed of suggesting the same thing to me over and over again. Forget it. Forget everything and everyone you associated with it. Let go. If someone affects you so much, the ideal solution is to keep yourself away from him . But do I pay heed to all of that? No.

Recently my friend's boyfriend tried to convince me to distant myself from this individual. He could read my mind. My stubbornness. My weakness. My sadness. My inability to avoid people. My fear. He could very well see that I was stuck at the bottom of a deep hole, and was struggling to get out of it. Hearing him point out my flaws infuriated me. I am used to people expressing their views diplomatically. Not boldly or bluntly as he put it. I was angry but deep inside I felt so sick, and I feel so sick, that only a good bout of crying can help me deal with it.

But enough. I have cried enough. I have let every memory flow through my head, (the good ones mind you) till they can hurt me no more.

I feel amused at myself for taking him so seriously. For taking life so seriously. For taking those memories so seriously.

I avoid reminiscing. That's the only solution. I don't want him to affect me anymore. There is no point in pondering, reflecting and remembering those good moments. They are gone. Gone.

Does it matter to the other individual concerned? The root cause of the turmoil?
Oh no it doesn't. Or maybe it did at some point. Or maybe I just stretched the matter so much that it lost its significance. After all how much can a person apologise? I accepted all the apologies, they showed he cared.

It takes time. The whole forgetting process. Well at least for someone like me who cares a bit too much.

So extreme. I'm capable of feeling a variety of emotions all in a day.

Is it wrong to be this way?

Bittersweet Memories

Some good memories can turn bitter and haunt you. Pictures, songs, places..anything associated to that one special person around whom those memories revolve. How much should I try? I'm terrible when it comes to handling changes. Changes in a person.

Memories. They stay in my head, refusing to fade. Resurface early in the morning. Late at night. Only to hurt me.

I feel relieved to have resolved all the misunderstandings but those memories still linger.
It hits you hard when you realise the other person may not really bother about what worries you. What makes you get so worked up.

I wish I could feel nothing for once. I want to do away with feeling those extreme emotions. I wish that space in my mind wasn't occupied by those bittersweet memories. I wish there was a 'delete' button to erase them off. Precious time wouldn't be lost. That dense cloud of hurt and misery would clear and help me focus on matters of greater importance.

Petty but petulant.
Bitter but sweet.
Relieving but hurting.

So much for wishful thinking.

Imogen Heap - Canvas (Official Music Video) + Lyrics

   
1.06 A.M

Another minute .

1.07 A.M

I feel sleepy. Imogen Heap has put me in a trance.

The nothingness that envelops you when you close your eyes and breathe deeply. Shut the rest of the world out . Focus. Focus.

When you snap all connections from unwanted and trivial thoughts and just focus on the nothingness, the black canvas soothes you and transports you to another world.

When the black canvas fades, that's when I realise I'm sleepy.

Goodnight.
                                                      

Musings..

The very fact that I'm actually posting stuff in my own blog amazes me. Not that I don't enjoy writing but this could turn out to be one of my fads. I hope that doesn't happen and I hope I keep posting regularly. Okay enough of hopes. It's time to go ahead and express myself through words. :)

Three weeks ago I rejoiced after my Board Examinations ended .With great ideas and plans almost spilling out of my head , I was sure a crazy summer awaited me though the Indian sytem of education wants to torture a seventeen year old with  AIPMT, AFMC, AIIMS,CET and other irksome entrance examinations required to get into esteemed medical colleges. I decided I wouldn't buckle under their pressure and would definitely keep some (= majority) time for relaxing.

Haha those plans and ideas seemed to have faded somehow. Maybe due to the oppressive weather. Maybe due to some family issues. Maybe because I'm too lazy. Maybe the noveltly of the freedom wore off within a span of a week. Whatever it is, all I have been doing is brooding and analysing ; true to my nature. Not to mention the obvious, my guitar and good music keeps me going. Meeting close pals in the evening , movies, books, practice tests , Facebook and well now this blog has also contributed.

I pray regularly, especially for my grandad who is suffering from neuro-endocrinal cancer. Cliched as it sounds, I have realised that the power which we worship, commonly known as God, can be a faithful and comforting friend. Infact better than those who cut themselves off from you just randomly. (I have this tendency to ramble, so bear with it.) Sometimes I really wonder if I'm a good friend. Maybe my efforts to show genuine concern and affection come across as annoying. (Oh! She is such a pain.) I admit I'm touchy and senstive and tend to overreact sometimes but come on, absurd behaviours irk me. However as Mum says, one ought to be thick-skinned under these circumstances and not care too much. Hard as it is for someone as touchy as me, I'm trying my best to follow her advice.

I have a good power of imagination. I imagine I'm performing for an audience that seems endless. A sea of appreciative and receptive individuals who are enjoying my compositions. It's amazing. It can actually happen. Hard work and determination can pay off. At this moment, this picture gives me great satisfaction.
 
I need to keep boredom away. These thoughts flit in and out of my head and tend to keep that monster away.
But they trouble me at night. Stupid as it sounds I cry for no reason at times.

Musings.