Friday, April 16, 2010


Today was a very important day.
I took my last sessional today. After 120 sessionals, unlimited vivas, internal and external pracs.. I have a revelation.

I am amazed. At myself. At just how much I had to push myself, to study for this one sessional.. I refused to read a word that wasn't in points, in my 'photustats'.. "Because that's not important and that won't come."

And there was a time when I used to read because I wanted to. Hell, I even used to re-read. I used to underline my answers and highlight important points and do the paper with a 'nice pen'.. Hahah. I used to remember points and I also remember quite specifically that I hated writing out of context. To think that now I write entire answers which are absolutely out of context.. Wow, that's change.

I know this is a very omg-you're-such-a-kid-and-you-should-go-to-school statement to make but, I'm not sure I like this change. I wish it could be fun to study again.

I've loved these four years, for whatever their worth, but still I feel useless, like maybe if I could've done something more worthwhile.. They've been inexplicably random, to say the least. Like the misty haze on the window pane when it rains.. the one that you write your name in with podgy fingers. And watch as racing raindrops clear it all out with callous confidence.

It's clearing up. Way too fast though.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


Dear Bitchy Girl,

Please get out of my life. I don't know why I have to see you again and again. Face it, as much as you try, you're not even nice to look at, you know.

Don't you get it? Nah, I don't blame you entirely. We do have a common connection.. Him. He makes me meet you.. Over and Over again. I can't make out if He hates me, or loves you or loves that I hate you. Either way, He does make me hate you. All over again. Each time I feel like that was it.. there has to be a limit to your bitchiness. But apparently, you love challenges. That's a good thing. And you prove me wrong. That's not a good thing.

You don't have a limit. Or if you do, it certainly is beyond the current limits of my limited comprehension.

A lot of times, you have known what you have done. You have been responsible. Yet, you have staged the innocent girl. Pretence is your forte alright. Until I play your silly game, that is. Yes, everybody loves you. You can lap up the limelight.
But don't pretend with me. I'm the victim. And a devilish one at that.
I don't want to be you.
I choose not to be you.
I despise your facade.

In fact I think you’re like a wax doll.. the one that squirms to an undefined blob when temperatures rise beyond melting point. (Yeah, pun intended.)
On second thought, you’ll be the best museum artifact ever. No really, you will. (No, this isn’t even a pun.)
In other words, I'm sick of your shit. It’s yours after all. You keep it. The stench is enough to nauseate me anyway.
I was hoping we weren't meant to BE. But then, you proved me wrong. Yet again.

Till we meet again my louve,
Amita :)

PS. I am angry. And confused. And sad. I hate it when people don’t realize that they are not behaving right. They should behave themselves. They better behave themselves. There has to be a limit.

It’s hard. I don’t want to be the bitch.. but I feel like I am emulating some characteristics. Yeah it’s true, I don’t want to, I choose not to be like them. But I have to draw the line. Because they never will.. they’ll keep pretending .. keep pushing.. keep testing my patience and keep sucking my blood like dehydrated leeches.. till I finally rip them off my skin.
And even then, I get all the scars. Plus, I’m anaemic.

Deal with it.
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