When dreams fall drop by drop, filling up on my eyes

Curled up in the armchair, she watched as the raindrops raced each other on the icy glass. Closing her eyes, she hoped he was standing at the door, asking her if she was not coming to bed. But when she did open her eyes, she saw him, through the crack of the bedroom door, his left arm covering one half of his face,his back exposed, the light, highlighting his spine. He was all dreams and tranquility.

She smiled. But it was a sad smile. An expression one gives when the battle is lost and you know that you could never achieve ones perceived goal. But why settle for thoughts based on failure when you could always close your eyes and imagine the sweetest of thoughts, so diabetic, that a person would go into a coma, she thought to herself. And thats exactly what she did...

Damn it, she cursed. Her mental darkness was now, disturbed by the occasional lighting courtesy the chemical reaction taking place in the clouds, she tried hard to picture them being together but the polaroid just didnt click from her mental camera. Again dissatisfied, she switched on the tv and as fate would have it, all that were playing were romantic numbers. Switching it off, the channel disappeared into a vortex, taking with it, the romantic musical couple.

"What the heck, might as well", she said. Stepping out into the rain, she went around in circles, the cool wind studding her skin with glttery droplets. Its an amazing feeling, almost rejuvinating. As she continued to hop, jump, twirl in the cool monsoon rains, she constantly hoped he would be there. Drenched as he watched his lady love. A scene embedded in her head from all the Hindi movies she had been watching.

But he never came. Perfect love is only in the movies she reminded herself. Dejected she walked back into the house. As she headed towards the closet for a towel and a change of clothes,she turned to find him standing there. Albeit groggy eyed and dressed in boxers, but he was there. "You're all wet. Wanna catch a cold that badly,huh??" She smiled as she headed for the bathroom.

"I think I'm in love" she said to herself, closing the door behind her.
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Gora Rani

Please do watch the vdeo I've hyperlinked to both the text word Rani and Gora Rani so that the characters may spring to life.

The stories of kings and queens have never failed to allure the curious minded. What follows is a tale of love, recounted by those faithful to the Rani. A tale, to be told and retold. Its narration, never to cease. May it be made known to those who dwell in the sky, the earth, the netherworld and the re-incarnate.

The night was indeed auspicious as the pundit had predicted. Chandra, in all his glory was drifting across the night sky, the clouds parting upon hearing the sound of his advancing steed. The twenty seven Nakshatras twinkled above us in all their finery. This was indeed a night to celebrate. Musicians strummed away at their sitars and songs were sung from honey mouthed nightingales brought from various parts of the country. The whole palace was decorated in shades of ruby and gold in honor of the celebration.

Hearing the clinking of bangles and seeing shadows dance across the hall I followed it hoping it wasn’t a demon that had chanced upon this auspicious occasion. But as I neared, all I could hear were her delicate laugh and the sound of her payals tinkling in delight. The diyas on the wall only added to the beauty, that she’d already been. Twirling around, she showed her gown to the others. She was dressed as an English memsaab would on her wedding day. When our eyes met I realized that our Gora Rani had indeed been sent from above. Her blue eyes, shining brighter, in contrast, to her, pale skin….

Here I am rambling about the Rani without having given you a formal introduction about her. As I have mentioned before she was indeed a gift sent from above. Wrapped in warm clothing, she came to us floating in a basket woven out of reeds. The Maharani, who happened to be on her stroll across the palace grounds noticed the mysterious object floating upon the Lake Pichola, summoned her servants who fished it out and revealed to the Maharani, that it was in fact a baby and not just any ordinary baby but that of an Angrezi. This obviously had come as a shock to her but as she lifted the little angel in her arms, she found two big blue eyes like pools staring at her. Now the Maharani had been barren for a great many years and yearned for a seed to continue their legacy. She pleaded with her husband who refused to even consider the idea for who knew what the Angrez would do upon finding that we possessed one of their kind. But the Maharaja loved his wife dearly and to upset her was far worse than not having any children. He at last caved in to the Maharani’s adamancy but insisted that the baby be kept under total secrecy and not a word is to leave the Palace walls about the origins of their newly adopted daughter, whom they christened Sunayna, one with beautiful eyes.

Now the Maharani didn’t leave any page unturned in the lessons of spoiling her daughter but Sunayna grew into a beautiful girl, with her skin ever so pale, we often wondered, along with the royal physician, if she had any blood in her. She was trained in the various arts. She could sing beautifully and played the sitar ever so delightfully, I could sit hours listening to her. She was even trained by her father, the Maharana in the field of swords and archery, in case the need ever arose for her to defend her self. The years passed by quickly and the Gora Rani, a nickname she had heard some kids on the street call her, was now a woman. Upon hearing this the Kings of various kingdoms had arrived hoping for the hand of our Rani but she didn’t seem to like any as they were all interested in producing lines of Gora people with blue eyes instead of providing her with the one thing she longed for, love. One day, as the Rani was walking across the grounds, she noticed a man, mostly a prince, because of the way his horse was decorated, who had stopped for a drink of water from the lake. As he raised his hand to drink, he noticed her staring at him and you can imagine what a sight it would have been to see a pale blue eyed girl in the middle of a land surrounded by black eyes and brown skin. After that day the Rani made it a point to linger around the grounds in hope to see her prince again. And as sure as the sun rose in the east he did come, day after day to chance upon the Rani waiting for him.

The princess confided in me, that perhaps she was in love. Her nights having been spent on his thought. A smile lit her face, whenever she pictured his face. Holding my hand now we hurry down the stairs where she stands there waiting for her prince, who has come from afar. As he neared her, he raised her veil and like a gentle breeze she caressed his cheek with her own and gently slipped away. Her scent, lingering in the hallway. And thus concludes my story of Sunayna, the Gora Rani.
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When Darkness met Light

Darkness watches ‘neath the window sill
Curtains of chiffon and silk.
Roses in bloom, glasses clink.
Crystals dangling from their
Wrought iron branches.
And the band, begins to play.

One by one the couples line up
Curtsy and the dance begins.
There’s laughter heard
Amongst the gentlemen.
The ladies prattle amongst themselves
But his eyes are still searching.

Then all at once his roving eye stops
For there at the head of the stairs, she stands
Amidst the crowds gasps and awe
Light descends the stairs
To greet her father, with a kiss.
Darkness’ heart trembles.

After having mingled with the guests
And danced with the boys
She heads to the balcony
Their eyes meet as he waits for her
In a swift, she’s with him
His hand around her waist.

As they dance beneath
Cloudless climes and starry skies.
The moon, their only witness.
Love entwined them both.
And all shall remember that night
When Darkness met Light.

Inspired by She walks in Beauty by Lord Byron
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Loving you was kinda like... developing a taste for beer. Bitter at first, but it slowly grows on you, as you continue sipping the arctic beverage. Now when I see myself in the mirror, there is not even a trace of your love left. Your possessions, all been taken over. The loss of which I do not twist and turn in my bed wondering what it could have been. On the contrary I'm relieved it’s over between us.

As I seat myself on the floor I open the first album with Fond Memories written on it. The first picture, my mom holding a cocooned baby with love forming its aura around us. Flipping through I reach infancy. My, what a chubby baby was I. The heart and soul of all conversations be it with aunties, uncles, grandparents, and strangers. Yup, a true magnet which led to an incident between the servant and me. Feeling me up and undressing me. Closing the album, I smirk as it flashes again in its flowery script, Fond Memories.

School wasn't exactly un-eventful. With you by my side, the punches didn’t hurt that much during recess time. Neither did the kicks. I liked that I could hide you and take you with me in my banyan during swimming lessons in spite of the constant reprimands of the teacher, there was no separating us. I didn’t really have any friends but I’m happy you were there and that you would bring your friends along when I gorged on the doughnuts and candy.

I kept checking my weight. It’s turning into an obsession. The kilos just pile up leaving me looking like a humungous hulk though of the fat variety as opposed to the ripped variety. My t-shirts have been pre-stretched before I leave for school. All tightness relieved along the chest and waist and back. Guess Ill go with black again. Seems to hide me of my iniquities.

The taunting became worse in High school. Repeated bangs against the lockers, fists rolled up to punch you in and words hurled like pointed javelins. I remember how I used to run home and lock myself in the room crying, hoping for someone to console me and then you came and said it'll be all ok, have a doughnut instead and be happy. I smiled and obediently followed your orders and gobbled all the doughnuts and soft drinks I could find. Being fat was probably not so bad. I guess.

Senior year saw me join a bunch of rejects. Their meetings, in these dark and dingy attics, the window acting like a chimney. I finally felt at ease. Here I was, with others who didn’t conform to society's standard of perfection. Those who weren’t thin and tall with six pack abs and wore glasses. Yes, I have found my home. The place where I could belong. That is until our parents caught us which led to the expected grounding and hence the split of the rejects gang.

I hoped college would be different and it was. I made some good friends and then with some coaxing I joined the gym. It was horrible coming back home breathless and my back and sides paining like hell. No pain, no gain I kept reminding my self. As I opened the refrigerator sequined with many magnets holding on to dear life all the diets and exercise routines I was meaning to try out, I often wondered how you were feeling. How with the hour long cardio and weight training would rid you of your friends as they got metabolized away.

I head to the calendar to cross out another day and note down my waist size and my biceps to see what progress I’ve been making. It’s been going good till now. I've lost two inches off my waist and my biceps has grown two centimeters. I pat myself on the back and hed to make a salad in the kitchen. It definitely isn't easy loosing all the weight considering I pride myself with finishing a whole large pizza. Hmmm gone are those days. Its just grilled chicken, fish and salads now. No soft drinks. No candy.

But not having you with me now, I guess has done me good. No more do people stare at me and giggle when I cross by with my XXL shirt blowing in the wind and forming embarrassing shapes with the fat beneath. Even the anger of what I had done to myself had gone. I'm at peace and happy with my body. I read this line in a book once and it’s stuck with me since "I'm perfect, cos God made me that way" so I guess as I have to do now is work towards getting an amazing bod.

I love you my lipidous lover, even thought you were the soul cause of all my troubles, I'd still like to say thank you for being there, to console and protect me. Being thin doesn’t mean I have no use of you anymore. I do, but just in small amounts. Time to hit the shower. Gotta a meeting to go to. Miss you dearly. Lots of love....
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The streets like haunted caves beckon me and its ghost goes by the name of Dope...

I lay there on the bed. Lipstick smeared across my cheeks and mascara like black holes encircling my sodden eyes. He rained the hundred dollars in tens and left, the door slammed shut. My duty was done. Hurriedly I scramble to pick up the precious green and stuff it into my purse. I dress up, redo my makeup and head out.

My story is like many others. I emancipated myself when I was 18 and from then I was on a roll. "Hey there doll. You look mighty fine for a young thing like yourself. Have you ever considered modeling?" Well what would you expect. I fell for it and soon found myself in the dump. My dignity stripped along with my clothes.

I guess I always was a rebel. My parents couldn't tolerate me any longer so I decided to do them a favor. Take some load of. So I left to Mumbai, city of... wait I need a smoke... Aaah yes, where was I... Oh ya Mumbai... city of dreams, city of Bollywood, sin city of India... After Goa that is.

"Hey Charlie... I need some more. I'm low for the week. When aren't you?? Cash?? Ya I have it with me. Money first.Ok fine here." He hands me the frosted crystals. I take its aroma in. Never know when these cheap low lives will be cheating you. You have to be on the look out no matter what in this place. Everybody lies.

I head into his place. A party is going on as usual. Pinky, Simi and Rose are here. Figures. Hindi music plays in the background like mist in the sky. Nobody bothers. All are here for one thing and one thing only. Crack. Their whole lives go by it. Their mere existance encapsulated in this small granule. I inhale...

"Hey boss, you want me, you can have me. Like this body have you seen anywhere. Full fit like item girl only. How much? Hundred. That's too much. Kya boss, experience raises the bar don't you think. Hmmm..." I linger on allowing him to scan me. "Okay, get in." Here I am, Lady of the night being driven in a Mercedes.Cant wait to tell the others.

Good evening. I'm Sheethal Mehta and here is today's breaking news. In a series of murders involving call girls yet another has succumbed. The police have found a Mercedes on Marine Drive. They suspect it was stolen from Poison. Investigations are going on and the search remains for the elusive criminals.

My story is like many other unlucky ones. Lipstick smeared across my cheeks and mascara like black holes encircling my sodden eyes. I guess I always was a rebel. Nobody bothers. Here I am, Lady of the night. Bleeding, dying, regretting. If only it were a happy death. My eyes close. My last thoughts... How I wish I had a cig rite now.....
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It always seems impossible until its done

Its getting tiresome now. Getting up, eating breakfast late in order to skip the disgusting fish curry rice they serve in the afternoon. Study, doze of for 5 and end up awake after 20. The cold isn't helping either. The constant showers,the chirpy birds, everything looking so bright. I guess I've been in my room (hell with fluorescent lighting) for too long. On entering the first thing to catch your eye are the various textbooks of med, surgery, obg and pedo strewn around to hide the dusty corners of my table.

Time passes. Its lunch time. We order from out. I guess I'm immune to caffeine now having OD-ied on coffee for the past few weeks since the coke which supposedly contains it puts me of to sleep in a jiffy. I dream I'm in my crush's place with her dad and oddly enough my friend and her sister, my crush being no where in sight. My friend gets up and heads to the bedroom where she pulls out her school uniform and models it for us. Weird you say, weirder actually.

The last dream I had a sequence straight from Speed racer in spite of not having seen the movie. It involved me unlocking a Hayabusa, watching my dad wait at the signal on his cycle and an old lady who I had approached for something. The next minute I'm speeding down the street on the lookout for the police hehehe. Stress does that I guess, screws up dreams.

I head of the sanctum sanctum (the loo). Hopefully the dump should help clear my mind and body of unwanted toxins. It doesn't. I return back to my room, push the door open and see my room mate. Lucky dog, lying on his bed he watches The Office, not that I have a problem but the FREEDOM he has to actually do it. That bugs me. Damn it. If only I hadn't flunked in my first year of med school, I probably would have the good life.

I turn to face the calender which I have carefully struck off days leading to the big event, my final exams, neatly circled in fluorescent orange, the only color pen I could find at that time. Basically I feel its the University's fault for cursing me with this wretched conformist life of a juvenile delinquent. Two marks were all what I needed. TWO.And for that I pay for it with six months of my life package which includes: 6 month wait period till the next exams, separation from my friends who have carried on without looking back save a few.

Picnics, lunches, movies, drinks, weddings practically the entire basis of a students life,swirling,into a stinky drain....

P.S This is jus my pre-exam depression talking...
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Seven Avatars

Since I was small I had this idea of choreographing a dance which would include my favorite actresses and i have been waiting ever since for that dream to come true. The dance was supposed to take place at a prestigious event where the whole of the Bollywood community would be there and try to take in the extravaganza presented to them by moi.

Ive stuck to my obsession of the seven deadly sins.

So I kinda thought I'd reveal to you all who I think are perfect for the role and hopefully someday, someone famous reads this and tries to contact me to say "I wanna make this happen and I want you to be in charge of it"

Presenting to you, The Seven Avatars.The music to which this whole experience takes place is a song from Mynta which I also have developed a craze to obtain it since it was danced to by my puc college dance team but unfortunately to this day I am clueless of its name.

Luxuria/Lust - Shilpa Shetty or Nicole Scherzinger or Priyanka Chopra

Gula/Gluttony - Asin

Avaritia/Greed - Kareena Kapoor

Acedia/Sloth - Deepika Padukone

Ira/Wrath - Sushmita Sen

Invidia/Envy - Bipasha Basu

Superbia/Pride - Aishwarya Rai Bachchan

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A toast...

I was imagining this yesterday, surprisingly when I wasn't studying that too. This picture of all of my hostel mates sitting at a big cream colored banquet table with maroon table mats and white napkins in gold holders each of us being served red wine/champagne and a big shamiana over our head with the local singers, their songs floating in the breezy Goan air and to end this visual delight we were asked to toast to everyone separately. Saying a few words about 37 guys is definitely tough. I mean they are just people you hang around with while in hostel, chit chat , watch movies and then retire to your bedroom. But I figured having stayed there since August 15th, 2004 there has gotto be something I've appreciated in each of them, something to call their own. So here's what I was gonna say anyways...

His nimble fingers play away at the piano while he's forced to listen to off tune singing. His books, like God sends, he voraciously tears away. But amidst all the raucous and badminton, he stands apart as a bloody hard working Mal conformist who digs white, I mean really white chicks ;p (Nappi)

Never have I seen a guy who treats women and his bed the same... With RESPECT I mean you perverts. Part of the Three musketeers and also a fond restaurant goer which unfortunately finds him in the most holy of places... the bathroom. (Chocos)

With his tales of myth and reality, not forgetting he directed many of the in-hostel room plays is this guy who always finds a ray of hope in whatever he does. (GG)

I've heard he's a very good friend and is totally into movies. This critic of sorts doles out his honest opinions despite the shy guy he portrays outside. (3vik)

With looks and brains to match, this guy never fails to impress me with how lil I have actually studied before my exams. Thank you for making me realise that during those horrible exam times. (Kundapur)

Even though he's small I've often watched in amazement as this guy spins in and out of the mess queue without a scratch or bruise. And he also the Beckham mania seems to have hit him as I've noticed as of recent. (Krish)

I swear there'l never be dull moment with this guy around. His stories deliciously masalified and roasted, you'll be licking your fingers clean that is, if you have survived the laugh riot he'll set you on. (Abru)

Singh, undilah baisan, son of a mother father etc etc are all his alias'. Cricket and guitar crazy this curly haired, leg breaking dude leaves you always with a smile. (Singh, undilah baisan, son of a mother father.....)

Medium height, dark and handsome draped in basketball attire is also a very funny guy who can readily disarm you with his quick replies (Thoma)

This next guy is a God of sorts. All knowing, omnipresent and laptop-o-philic is known for going on and on from sports to politics to TV to music and the list will never end. Thanks for the all the trivia throughout the years (Who else can this be)

I'm sure all of us have feasted one day or the other on the food these two have in their rooms. From grandma baked cakes to biscuits and ice cold lemon tea we have had them all. Thank you for fattening us. (Schezwan chicken and YP)

One is a piano player and the other a nasal singer. Warden thought wisely putting these two together. May their walls be forever sound proofed and our ears heavily padded. Thank you for the music (Neyvelli and Himesh Miu Reshamiya)

Buff is just one word which completely describes him. Forever labouring after the coveted six pack, the same ones his idol Arjun Rampal doesn't have. (Denis the penance)

Mind blasting ideas, pj's and loads of fun to be with. His birthday surprises are always eagerly waited upon. (Pig)

Another room which needs soundproofing thanks to its deaf, 'sexual healing' meets 'any rap song' inhabitants. No thank you for the music. (Again you'll know very well who you'll are- (Sensitive & Pakao)

Stronger, bigger, faster, stronger. That's all what comes to my mind about my roommate. (LL Cool A)

My partner in all the crazy walk-a-thon's we have done. Not forgetting all the restaurants we have greedily invaded, all the topics in my textbook neatly marked and bitch sessions carefully listened to. Thank you, well basically for listening, wandering and being a bitch in need. (Shagger)

Laugh, laugh and some more laughs. And this isn't even at someone else, its at friggin me. His yapping, acting and entering rooms thru the lil window on top is just some of the millions he's done at hostel. (Stylo)

Another bitch in need is a bitch indeed, this one has heard it all. In great, extended and un-censored volumes. My idol and f*** buddy. (Duck)

Whenever his name comes to my mind, I always go back to the scene of first year bday celebrations and when the lights were switched of as some of us were shy to dance and then when it came one, this guy definitely had his freak going on. (Jetti)

Two sides of the mirror. One a traveller and the other a mugger. Its probably the differences which fated these two together. Plus I love the sweets one of them gets from the temples(Lord of waves/don/the man & Chancre)

From PUC in Blr to med coll in mlr, he's been with me. Hailed as the greatest cricketer of all, cant wait to see him on screen or as HOUSE. (Giri)

This master blaster of the batch, seriously can kick butt. Maheshbabu move aside for this dynamite. Hopefully I do see him someday, either directing, producing and definitely acting in the biggest blockbuster ever. Plus he has great hair. And I've seen the acting videos ;)(Entoi)

These two are definitely made for each other. One 6 foot hazard and the other a moustachioed love machine.(The love guru and the devotee)

Silent kill is all what I heard as he quietly waits to pounce for a kill. And his room mate is not bad either. Though not silent though, his laugh can be heard till the other end of hostel. (Shiv Seena)

One's the rapper champ and the other a book whiz. Even though one of them is born the same day as I was, wish I was as smart as him. (Champ & Koni)

Sent under the Queen's order this Australian is seriously a witty nag. Never boring, always smirking. (the name's Bond.. JoMoJo Bond)

With style unmatched and bottoms always up while asleep, these two bamboo boys we just cant enough. Especially the loud laughing during the afternoons while you'll relished the juicy gossip tastefully. Thank you for keeping us awake in the afternoons (Pee pee & Noop dogg)

And this whole episode ends with a delightful Goan meal.. Hmmm how I wish it were all true.
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Vanilla... cut and dried

Sis with her mates on either side


Aaarrggghhhhmmmmm... or something like that, is the sound that emanates from the serous chambers of my throat as I get up from behind the sheets and survey the room. I notice from the noise coming from outside my door, the gushing, the rambling and the "oh my God's" that sis is up already. Such a fool, she sacrifices a good 10 hours sleep just to get up, face wash, moisturise, tweak and mascara, kajal and straighten her already Cosmo designed beauty. Heck , I'm not complaining. What's there for guys like us. Get up, take a leak, brush, comb and pick up random attire from the carpeted floor and done, saving the shades for last, of course, before I ride off to college.

She's got an interview today. No wonder all the extra add-on's. I can only imagine her signing the old anthem of Indian girls worldwide "banoonge mein, Miss India". Kingfisher does have a certain edge compared to other airlines. But I shudder to imagine my sister, a once 100 kilo moti gulab jamun now a svelte long legged lass on her airline with her mates, making announcements, serving guests, flirting with the pilots and charting of to London, Rome, Paris spending lavishly on perfumes and haute couture not to forget the cigarettes she'd be downing to relieve all the stress.I'll miss her though. No one to bug then when I'm back from college.

St. Xavier's, College of Arts. Yes, I know. You'll probably think I'm some loser who wasn't smart enough to make it through the rigorous equations and chemical potions and botanical jargon or zoological dissections but I did. In fact scored 92% percent, thank you very much. But that's not what I was meant to do. While I saw all my friends rushing off to IIT or medical concentration camps, I on the other hand just took my certificates and was immediately offered the desired course of Journalism, the art of writing, speaking and conveying everything publicly and hopefully uniquely.

Ever since my mom died and dad having left us for younger cheesecakes, Grandma has always labored on surreptitiously to make us have the finer things. Not that our Granddad didn't leave behind enough back from his Merchant Navy days. Our house may have been one of the old timers but whatever we did was in style. Why we ate off plates which had the insignia of the ship my Granddad was a chef on. My grandma still makes English breakfasts every Sunday, though not as good as to what Granddad used to since his ingredients were all imported from England each time his ship stopped by at Mangalore.

Even my cousins and uncle and aunties, practically everyone showed up save the neighbors who though we were a snooty lot showing off like proud peacocks but to hell with them anyways. I miss those days. Everything is so fast paced now. Running of to college, classes, assignments, projects, fests and then there's the nerve wrecking job interview tackling to prove that your different from the billion other aspiring Tagore's, Adiga's or Rushdie's. "Bye Dev, I'm of. Wish me luck na stupid. Your sister might just be one of the air goddess' on Kingfisher airlines. I might even introduce you to the girls, if I get in" she winks. "All the best Zizou" I smile and then proceed to freshen up.

Zizou, a nickname which stood ever since she was 10 and had this non stop fact dishing and picture collecting of Zinedine Zidane's glorious football carrier. All that stopped after the head butt though. "He's so mean ya, but the other guy deserved it no??" Somehow aggressiveness always put off Zi. She never used to play with any of the kids who shoved or pushed and even if they did, she'd just run to their parents who would then gloriously shower their children with verbose chiding and bum meets scale techniques. After that she'd just walk away. Smiling away to glory at her accomplishment of saving the world from the bullies.

My sweet, charming, spectacle wearing (replaced with grey contacts now though), plump (now a size 6, after her idol Gisele Bündchen, whom I used to drool over every time Zi got a magazine with her on it), saving the world from bullies Zizou. The sms alert rings. 'My turn is coming up... Pls pray for me :) muah.' How I hate her muahs. Its sounds like these pretentious rich ladies who drool on about how rich they are and then gulp champagne and eat caviar from golden spoons, all the time mocking the poor beggars who cross the street. Anyways, I utter a prayer and then head off to college. Hopefully something exciting happens today...
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I've finally decided. I'm a heart person. Anything to do with love and the whole jambola of emotions, are all right up my alley. I guess its got to be due to having read the horoscopes and having promptly mugged up all the characteristics of the humble Cancerian and having diligently executed it in my life, ever since I was small.

I don't think there's not a single characteristic I dont fit into. Lets see there's shy, timid, withdrawn, dull but only at times, home loving, obstinately tenacious, purposeful, energetic, intuitive and wise, sometimes with a philosophical profundity of thought verging on inspiration, sympathetic and kindly sensitivity to other people, especially those they love.

I tend to be over-imaginative and prone to fantasy, sometimes trying to shape my life to fit some romantic ideal. I am appreciative of art and literature, and especially of drama.

Mentally, a mixture of toughness and softness, often emotional and romantic to the point of sentimentality in fantasies; but in real life the loving is not so sentimental but tenaciously loyal. I am also too easily influenced by those they love and admire, and swayed by the emotion of the moment.

Having a retentive memory, particularly for emotionally laden events which I can recall in detail for years afterwards. Being strongly governed by childhood memories and since I live intensely in the past in memory and in the future in imagination, a chance meeting with someone for whom they had an unrequited love, even if they thought they had conquered the feeling, will easily rouse the emotion all over again.

Now hasn't that happened before eh??
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