Not too Far...

I just realized today that I have been doing things and thinking... Ah, one day I shall look back at this and laugh.

I think I am making memories. Making up the "Good Old Days" which I shall recall when I sit beside another nutter in an old-age home (though I have serious doubts about reaching that age... with my repute I shall probably be long dead).

Anyway, memories. Memories. They are so weird sometimes. You think of something and then Poof! Its there in a flash. Like its happening again right in front of you. And you can't change it. Ever.

You know, I realized that its always the Good Old Days we look to. Even when we are kids, every moment forward is a sort of degradation. Its like, you are yearning from some past memory, a point in the past when you did this or That. I do not know what... but somehow its this insatiable need to be back to a point when you were .... should I call it Innocent? No. Its more... Uncorrupted.

Blake-ian.

I wrote something in my diary three years ago. Its true on retrospect. I promised to myself that there would be a knight in a shining armour for me too. One day, I will be like Rapunzel (without the long hair of course) and someone will help me escape and then take care of me. Now I have found the Knight.

Unfortunately when I peered inside the shining helmet, I found a mirror.

Long walks help. Music helps. This incurable hunger, loneliness... I am like a wolf searching... sniffing... thirsting.... but then, I am too much of a free-spirit to ever settle down with one individual. I shall probably crave freedom after awhile. Love is attached to a kind of confinement, not in itself, but what it entails is confining. That is why being in love hurts so much, because you are constantly struggling with the confinement around you, and you cannot explain how badly it hurts. You only feel the taste of what it does to you.


Oh My God. Please do not tell me I have been spending time to write this. Who reads this anyway? I shall be splendidly cook-y and give recipes for rum balls soon.

Four in the Afternoon.

Sudden changes sort of leave the Panu stunned. But the city is beautiful now. Its all glowing softly in the afternoon and looks like a warm place to be when inside she is getting the first chills. Its all good, she says. Happens. It does happen. People go away. Its not a big deal.

So she's taken to the refuge again. Headed for the hills.

She is.

Going places.

Quite happy, she incidentally is. The life she leads is beautiful. Its cold, but then, beauty is best eaten cold.

So then she sings Dylan and says she's like a rolling stone.

I gather no moss. I flit. I flow. I move.

Love my randomness. Love my passion. Love the fact I am a fool, because then I can overlook so many things that others cannot.

I love myself as of now. For getting where I am now. Let me just take a breather and look around. Life is beautiful.