I, like a lot of other people, am waiting for some time to make a great gesture proving my commitment to some principle or another, but I am annoyed at this stagy business. Why don't I just live properly?

Duty, commitment, faith, love and brotherhood; where are these in my life. I shirk my work, look for excuses to place my flaws on others, I live luxuriously and talk of equality. I talk of environmentalism but thats it, I just talk.

Ipshita, you're not a kid any more.

It's lovely to be yourself and sometimes not take oneself so seriously. I had such a hoot reading the last two posts. I could have been Sandhya. Oof, a harsh self reproach that is (evil grin)

I spent a marvelous time day before yesterday night, reading some stuff I had written before and writing some new pieces. It comes to me again that I really enjoy writing. I hope one day I'll be old enough to write properly. I'm too childlike in experiences, it shows.

Ah, its nice to be me.

Edit: Just rereading the earlier posts again. I cringe and laugh alternatingly

Depression has blossomed on my heart like a fungus
It's a stinking bloom, large and red like a Rafflesia in November and flies come in thick clouds till it folds and breaks in swads of decay
It's a truffle in the oak roots waiting for a hound to find and lay it at her master's feet
But everytime I am just the forest floor, mother to my thoughts.

I tried to be coleridge.
I'm not.
Here are my efforts

People poplars on the street
Run them over like they're meat.
I will shriek with holy glee
And spur you on your killing spree.
Leaps and thrills from every count
New lease on life from every pain
You bow before my cold command
Again, again, again, AGAIN!
The lift, the spin, the go rush in
The thud the crack of living bone
I lift my head as tears roll down
With numinous joy I moan.

I am an opiated poet. Happiness would be at the core of myself only replaced by baser emotions. Blame my doctor and blame dinner. the experience is interesting but not all that fun. I'd prefer a good book/

Growl

I am sick of having nothing new to say about me. There is no good news where I am concerned. Any update is always a slide from the previous position. Today I'm more than a little sick. There you go. Bad news of the day.

I forgot

Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with alzheimers. He says he's not dead yet but I was in such a funk when I heard. Even now I am most disturbed as I type this. I am not ready to let him go.