Weary

So its reached a point where I have zero control over who views my blog. Not that I ever did much to hide my posts..its all been sitting out here in the open for more than a year now. But I did have some idea about the number of regulars on Ink, and I don't really mind complete strangers knowing all about the inside of my head. Just the right number of people I had here. Which is why I picked vox, you know. A bored person might run a search for me on blogspot, or wordpress, or myspace. But who the fuck even knows about vox. That's all going down the drain now, and my sister's entire office parades through my blog looking at shoes these days. Can't really have that now can I. I need my space to vent without being watched. I need my blog back. 

And so I'm beginning to hide posts like this one. Not hide, really, just make it accessible only to my neighbourhood on vox. The rest of everyone can look at all the shoes they want. I'm getting cleverer than I used to be. 
What can I say, my favourite friend. This is going to be a long long day and I can't get my head around the idea of surviving it. Maybe its just how my hair smells right now. Still wet from washing and more stink than soap in it. I'm beginning to think its easy to start hating yourself when your hair smells like an entire pack of cigarettes. Or when you begin to realize just how little you can trust yourself all of a sudden. There was a time when everything was easy and too much alcohol brought only the probability of waking up with a bottle of bubble solution instead of an ipod. All of that has changed now, and when the exhilaration fades you are left only with worry enough to rob a baby's sleep and a sick, unhappy sense of self-loathing. We will reach a point someday when we look back and laugh at how young we were, I know, but I wish that point was in sight. 
How fast the fall from laughter is. What will we ever do?
I don't know. I'm thinking I am an emo person, and tomorrow will feel like an awesome day. Today is easy to deal with. Just sleep till evening and then go jam. I think I'll turn off my phone in the afternoon. And believe me I have never done that before. But its a hiding-away day and I feel it will engulf me. 
Bye bye.

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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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