Who's been listening all this while? I think sometimes that a headcount would bring it all crashing down. There was a bunch of you, I know. But who's left?

Another one of those days. I apologize. I've lost a sound somewhere between headsong and fretboard and its starting to poison me.
That and a fucked up back.
And an idle idle mind.

Sometimes I believe my hell would be Eternal Chilling in the company of Me. I'm a fun person. I really am. I know people who'd vouch for it. Its just that I'm better off not left alone for too long. Please don't get this wrong. I love me. But me plus me for too long is like a bad combo. Like how two morose people should never get together. Or like how one morose person should never live alone. Does it confuse you when I talk like this? Cos it confused me. But I went back and checked what I typed and I can tell for sure I've not got it wrong. It all makes sense when you think about it. All it needs is some imagination.

Now I'm checking to see if that applies to anything else. Or everything else.

It all makes sense when you think about it. All it needs is some imagination.

Who can tell. I make a lot of noise around here. And I guess I tend to repeat myself. Sometimes in the space of a single post. But I'm allowed that eh? My Ink. I'm talking to me.


What I'd give to know somebody's listening.



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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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