Six days to go!


I can’t believe it has been a year since I last made this post! Oh how time does fly!

Anyhow, dear readers, it is the big day in a week, well you know, my birthday of course, and I, am as excited as excited can be! Last year was the second in a row that was a mix of ecstasy (just my natural birthday high :P) and melancholy (I will spare you the deets) and I thought after two extremely tiring birthdays, I would not be able to shake off the hangover and count the days for yet another 2nd of August in ma vie. Alas! I was mistaken, oh sweet reader, how I was mistaken!

ea48dcf7f7afa372aa8998e2c6936276As the days zoom by, my state of inertia about this whole business has translated into some solid words, namely my wishlist! Now I have taken the extensive time and effort to make two such extravagant lists, one which I have sent a copy to all my friends (as they are to be working on it) and one which I hope to work on myself. I thought it would be fun to share the latter with you darlings so here goes!

  1. Reach 200 followers on my blog. (199 and counting!)
  2. Forgive someone.
  3. Laugh a lot. (And I WILL)
  4. Experience one entirely new thing.
  5. Sing a lot (Again, people who will be around me, carry ‘em earplugs because I ABSOLUTELY WILL!)
  6. Dance a lot
  7. Do a RAK (random act of kindness)
  8. Forget/etch someone forever (It began with forget, but then I wasn’t sure if I should forget them or accept that they will always be a part of me so its an either or to decide on the big day!)
  9. Write a letter
  10. Go to St. Anthonys (my birthday tradition three years running now!)

So wish me luck on the list, and wish me a very happy happy happy happy birthday loves! YES I AM EXCITED!

Fire that cannot die



Over the past few days, I have been having dreams, really vivid dreams about a certain someone. As I searched for words to describe their presence in my life, this quote randomly jumped at me on facebook. Here is to hoping you get a lifetime with your someone.



Over the past year and a half, one of the most inevitable steps in my process of healing from a deep wound has become sharing it, right here. Inspired by the previous post I just reblogged, I realize that there is yet another wound in my heart that I pretend doesn’t exist. So today I write to give form, and release, to that wound, to allow it to bleed dry.

Relationships, funny things they are, they bring out the best and the worst in people, and then they often end, leaving us in the afterglow of that best and worst we were.

My last relationship ended over six months ago, it didn’t end too well. I was doing a rather nifty job of moving forward with my life when a couple of days ago something stopped me dead on my track. A friend relayed some nasty comments made about me in regard to my previous relationship by someone of menial importance in my life, and for some reason I could not understand it made me cry.

It didn’t just pass through my head like most irrelevant things do, but it entered and nested itself there to hatch a lot of little baby worries.

I spent hours trying to figure out why such a trivial matter could bludgeon my mind so much and then, amidst all the questioning and soul searching, I placed my finger on the answer.

Now mind you, I have quite a large ego, and for a person like me it isn’t easy to even consider, let alone accept, that I am wrong, so my little epiphany was not quite so little as I say.

I realized that the real reason I couldn’t stop the waterworks since I heard what I did was because deep within me, I knew that there was some amount of truth in some fashion to the statement.

Relationships are the mother ship of the love/hate balance in our lives, and often balances out all you give or don’t give other relations in your life through that one outlet. Sometimes it is love, and sometimes, hate.

I know it sounds funny to say you hate a person who are in a relation with, and maybe it isn’t quite hate, but sometimes you fall into a dissuasive pit of reasons why you shouldn’t be where you are, and yet you cannot climb out of the pit and so you throw out all your fury on the one person next to you in the pit, on the person who brought you there, on the person you can’t live with but cannot leave the pit because of, voila, presenting to you your less than perfect self.

I am not proud of it, but I allowed myself to be a person who simply tortured the living breath out of another human being. I was needy, crass, harsh, manipulative and the worst part, I was still me. I wish that I could say I was another person at the time, but the truth is so much harder than that. I was still me, I still walked like me and talked like me, I had the same friends and the same enemies, I still had the same beliefs and many of the same problems. And I did something wrong. The person I am today has done something wrong. That smarts.

I asked for forgiveness, sure, was Ii forgiven? I don’t know. But the main question is did I forgive myself? And the answer is no.

So today, as I write this, I try to come to terms with all that I did, all the tears and the irrationality, all the stubbornness and the accusations, all the petty destructive words hurled to and fro, all of it. I have no excuse for my less than perfect self, she just was, but today, I am trying to forgive her, and ensure she never, ever, takes away from myself again.



Originally posted on That's Another Story:

Quote about Scars


Every day when I am taking a shower and getting dressed, I cannot help but notice the visible scars that dot my body.  I earned my first scars, thanks to the chicken pox virus that my two older sisters exposed me to when I only 6 months old.  I only had six spots, yet three left their mark on my wrist, face, and thigh to remind me of this event that I was too young to ever remember.  There’s the faded scar on my wrist from burning myself on a pan when I was in the kitchen when I was a little girl, and the scars on both of my legs from surgeries over the years.  There’s also the scar on my knee from an embarrassing incident during my first night in Boston, which is definitely another story that will remain untold!  There are other visible scars, as well…

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Your 23rd.


Amidst the city’s favourite road, we scurried past a hundred people. There was a little girl selling roses obstructing our path. We tried to zig zag our way across her, but it’s safe to say she was an adamant little child.

He reached out his arm and asked her for a rose.

“Forty Rupees”, she said.

“Why?!”, I asked him.

“A rose for a rose”, he said.

Ofcourse, you trot all over the place proclaiming your dream pick up phrase, and someone is bound to pick it up. I smiled, it was still one in a lot of someones who would use it.

He reached into his wallet and removed a ten Rupee note “This is all I have”, he said.

I reached for my purse and extracted a thirty. “Isn’t this perfect?”, I laughed.

We both did, because despite the fact that I just bought a flower for myself and coined a line to match my name, it was pretty perfect.

I will always remember your so many visits to this city, for me. I will always, somehow, undeniably love you.


Happy birthday you silly boy! 23. How time flies!