on a blah lane

Oh Dear God… I see this horrendously dressed lady walking the floor with a really massive cake. It’s chocklate cake. Hmmm. I don’t really know her but the cake looks yummy. Bah, never mind. I’ll just ignore it.

So, what’s been up? This, I am asking myself. Dude, it’s been sooo long I’ve had a stable conversation with myself. I mean, maybe ’stable’ is not the right word but you know what I mean. Do you? You so don’t. I can see it on your face. It’s like everything is moving in a slow motion… The leaves are falling at a dead pace, the people are walking really slowly, the clouds are moving v-e-r-y slowly…like the world is living a blah day… “I’m blah Jane, walking a blah lane…” hehehehe… Never mind…

I am spaced after a really long time. I am looking at people and not responding to them. I sometimes fear getting Alzheimer’s. I also fear drowning and being eaten by a monstrous crocodile. Never mind.

Had a horrible weekend. Not coz Mum’s here, but coz for the nth time the same old crap got dug up and I was pulled in to be a part of that crap that has this pungent smell that lingers for almost forever.

Anyway, that’s over so doesn’t matter anymore. Parents are just unusualy weird people. So much love, but no acceptance. Nevertheless, bind it all together. It’s like a ‘thing to do’.

I have a swollen eye and it looks like someone slapped me real hard. No, noone did. An insect bit me. How? Ask me not.

People are hillarious.

Never mind.

State of mind? Never mind

Song? Far Away- Nickleback

Weather? Very, very pleasant.

‘unwritten’

Love this part of the song:

“…Feel the rain on your skin, noone else can feel it for you,

only you can let it in, noone else…

noone else can speak the words on your lips

drench yourself in words unpoken

live your life with arms wide open…”

-Natasha Bedingfield

unheard. unsung.

I lay in my bed contemplating about things that have moved me in life. I remember holding my father’s hand and walking behind him, taking fast steps to cope with him as I watched a woman madly running through the streets as she had lost her child at the railway station. I remember seeing the anguish of grief, blue veins of hope and wide, wandering eyes looking for her baby… It was scary…I wonder what happened after that. I hope she found her child…

You know, sometimes I feel that there is this dark figure, watching us all perform our roles as one after the other film gets over. He reads our performance, analyses it and maybe judges us on it as well. But if he watches SO MANY movies like these, do you think he even remembers us? Well, in my case I am sure he remembers a short, pale creature, usually trying to hide behind the scenes. Or maybe as the one who would hide under her bed, even in her own room. Or maybe as the one who usually cheers everyone up but lacks all interest and zest in her own life. In the broader picture, she is a miniscule part of this tiny frame of just humans.

So much happens in life. SO MUCH DOES. If one starts keeping track of all details (which I always do), he/she would actually go insane. But again, in the bigger picture of life, nothing matters. It’s all too nugatory…

If you put together the miseries of all the people in the world and compare it with the niceness that floats around, the latter would be like a drop in the ocean. Makes no difference, but it’s there.

Anyway, how does all this matter anyway?  I am going to keep ranting and my thoughts will keep panting. I will still wake up sweating in the night and vaguely hope for a morning bright. I will roll down the hill as a wary child and still fall prey to chaos so wild.

I am giving up. In the end nothing matters. We all end up in dust. I will fade like an unheard tune or an unwritten book… I will be forgotten even before I turn into ash… Whatever…