Damn us.

Weird creatures,us women.

We complicate everything so much and then go and ask for a simple life.
We remember everything.
Every message.
Every smiley.
Every word.
If you think it is impossible,think again.
We talk about feelings,not facts.
We fret over details.
Even the colour of our stockings.
We want everything.
And we take pictures of ourselves all the time.
In the bathroom,dressing room,shopping mall,elevators.
We pout and pose.
We edit our pictures.
We remove that pimple,that tan,that dark circle.
We up the contrast and increase the brightness to make us look smoother,fairer.
And then we tell them that looks don't matter to us.
We keep random things like a paperclip safely,because maybe a memory is attached to it that is too dear to be thrown away.
And then we crib about not getting over our past and how that paperclip always comes back to haunt us.
We want to be more manly.
We wear camo shorts and bermudas all the time.
Its the most comfortable thing in the world.
And then we say we look manly in our photos.
"Damn,I look like hulk."
We dream of dancing in the rain.
And still we run into the shops each time it does because it ruins our hair.
We love coffee.
And still it takes months to agree to go for coffee when someone asks us.
We keep backups but hate being one.
We dream of throwing up or not eating at all.
But then we still order the extra cheese.
We take care of our nails more than our waist.
We can't decide which pasta to order,but we call ourselves desicion makers.
We love and hate the same guys.
We reply back to every message.
And we always expect a reply.

We get nervous when people don't keep in touch for more than a week.
We over-imagine.
We love discounts.
We delete people from our friend list if we have a fallout.
And then add them back.
We stalk people.
Pretty people.
Ugly people.
Friends.
Friend's friends.
Friend's friend's friends.
We can't take secrets.
But we can keep them.
We love our guy friends.
We love it when they pay for our frankie.
And when they call.
When they message.
When we are messed up and we call them and they tell us how we are over reacting.


We dream.
And then brush it off.
We keep saying that true love doesn't exist.
But hope that someday we'd be proved wrong.
We love female executives.
We keep wondering how one day we'll wear those heels and own a big company.
But we're scared that it wont bring us happiness.

And the biggest secret of all.

We don't crave for attention.
We crave for warmth and affection.
And hope that all we do,will bring us that.




p.s- Happy birthday Ray.You are one heck of a woman.

"Damn.Falguni Pathak is the indian version of Ellen."

Someday,I will hug my Dad for holding Mom's purse while we use the loo at the mall even though he looks girly holding it.

Someday.

Someday,I'll get used to the word 'midget'.

Someday will be my day.
And someone will be there to see it all.
That day,my facebook status will be liked by more than just Ness and Aurin and Rudi,who like EVERYTHING on my profile.

Someday I'll get used to not seeing people I know.
Ness.
Rudi.
Ray.
Metro.
More.


Someday I'll buy myself a ball and play with it.Maybe even a skipping rope.



Someday I will use my McDonald's cash coupon again.


Someday I will stretch open my mouth like Nish.



Someday I will add Deeganto back as a friend.


Someday Ben will stop messaging.And I will too.


Someday I will start writing my book.



Someday a stranger will come upto me and tell me how I've inspired him.


Someday I will shake hands with Donald Trump and say something witty.


Someday my life will change in a quarter of a moment and I will not even notice.

These somedays will be my days.
And I will gift myself a brownie and a wet hand towel to celebrate it.






But everything has a time.
And today just does not cut it.
Today,I'll just post this amazingly hollow piece of my writing on cyberspace.
Today I'll just think about why I can't write the way I used to,anymore.
I think its the lack of misery in my life.
Or just my indifference to it.

81 is such a rude,cold number.
It does this to me.

See,I'm hardly THERE.

Yellow,like the stars.
Yellow,like the mountain dew.
Yellow,like pee.
Yellow,like JT's face.
Yellow,like the Chinese.

Yellow,like the South Indian hello.
Yellow,like the pages of old books.
Yellow,like puke.
Yellow.


Yellow,like the sun that shines upon the bricks below our feet.
And hide our secrets.
Yellow,like my moodswings.
Yellow,like my shadow.


I'm moving to Bangalore this July for college.
I don't know anyone there.
I don't know anything about that place except that DBC keeps the bestest ice-creams.
I'm going.
Leaving bombay.
I will hardly see my friends ever again.
I'm halfway through falling out of love,again.
I'm messaging B,because he's easy to talk to.
: )
And I'm yellow tonight.






B.
This is for you.