I have no clue how to use this new "upgraded" version of the blogger but let me give it a try.
I have started writing a diary, which probably means I will be blogging less (or more...really depends) but one thing that has become prominent is my inability to just write a poem using my hand, a pen/pencil and a paper. I have been so used to "blogging" the poems out, that I no longer know how to write one.
Apart from that, I miss A. Spending time with her, cooking ,eating, scribbling, dancing, singing, listening, crying, prancing around the streets, riding in her scooter, and being honest. I feel like I am blogging this so that she can read this. Maybe I am. Yes I am. But I am also angry that in all this busy-ness, she says, "timlai birsina lageko afailai dekhda saaro bore lagchha."
Reading this makes me both sad and resentful. I am an email away from her, an sms away from her, three-four stops away from where she lives, three-four stops away from where she works and when I read this line, I remember those emails I sent with useless links, and how there was no response and I think of how she promised one day, she would give me lift back home from my class and that little chubby monster in me starts to prance around. It tells me to be more angry, more resentful, make her hurt, tell her how those lines do not feel genuine, they look half-heartedly typed into an email hurriedly sent in her way to work or school. That little chubby monster dictates my emotions. Why does she have to appear offline? Or how can someone forget someone whom you have lent your best reads and these reads, finished or unfinished lie in her book-rack, ready to be picked up?
That little chubby monster is eating me up.
If you are reading this, blame the little chubby monster that is self-deceitful, vain, attention-seeker and an excessive junk-eater not me. Because at the core of my heart, I still love you even if you are at the verge of forgetting me.
And it saddens me to read that line, that line that says you might be forgetting me and I will willfully choose to ignore the part where you mention that that is a bore, that this forgetting is a bore. I will willfully choose to forget it like you might after reading this to willfully forget some part of it and remember some.
And it saddens me that it saddens me.
I have started writing a diary, which probably means I will be blogging less (or more...really depends) but one thing that has become prominent is my inability to just write a poem using my hand, a pen/pencil and a paper. I have been so used to "blogging" the poems out, that I no longer know how to write one.
Apart from that, I miss A. Spending time with her, cooking ,eating, scribbling, dancing, singing, listening, crying, prancing around the streets, riding in her scooter, and being honest. I feel like I am blogging this so that she can read this. Maybe I am. Yes I am. But I am also angry that in all this busy-ness, she says, "timlai birsina lageko afailai dekhda saaro bore lagchha."
Reading this makes me both sad and resentful. I am an email away from her, an sms away from her, three-four stops away from where she lives, three-four stops away from where she works and when I read this line, I remember those emails I sent with useless links, and how there was no response and I think of how she promised one day, she would give me lift back home from my class and that little chubby monster in me starts to prance around. It tells me to be more angry, more resentful, make her hurt, tell her how those lines do not feel genuine, they look half-heartedly typed into an email hurriedly sent in her way to work or school. That little chubby monster dictates my emotions. Why does she have to appear offline? Or how can someone forget someone whom you have lent your best reads and these reads, finished or unfinished lie in her book-rack, ready to be picked up?
That little chubby monster is eating me up.
If you are reading this, blame the little chubby monster that is self-deceitful, vain, attention-seeker and an excessive junk-eater not me. Because at the core of my heart, I still love you even if you are at the verge of forgetting me.
And it saddens me to read that line, that line that says you might be forgetting me and I will willfully choose to ignore the part where you mention that that is a bore, that this forgetting is a bore. I will willfully choose to forget it like you might after reading this to willfully forget some part of it and remember some.
And it saddens me that it saddens me.
