And yet again..

Every time I feel I have perfected the art of not getting hurt and battered, life seems to find even newer ways of doing so. It yet again manages to hurt my feelings, dent my pride, crush my ego and tarnish my thoughts. It’s at times like these that the fushias and reds vanish from sight and unrecognizable, muddy and confusing colours come in.

Suv had once said that we always get a warning before something drastic happens. He was right. I did get them. Got quite a few actually, but I guess when you don’t want to see the signs, the signs hide as well. They camouflage themselves. It’s like wearing the rose coloured glasses with add on blinkers.

It’s easier to get over pain that others inflict. It's easier because you don’t know its coming and because you have fewer options but to receive it. But what do you do when you allow yourself the hurt and the madness? What do you do when you know you are going to come out crushed and confused and you still don’t walk away? It’s ‘this’ pain that takes time to vanish cause you already know there could have been another path, some other route, a different choice.

I was really never meant to do such things. I get attached to emotions, to feelings, to places and most of all - to people.

Regret?
Surprisingly I don’t really regret what happened and I don’t blame anyone. I don’t. In fact given a chance to do things differently, I wouldn’t even change around a lot. I’m not even hurt that bad. Then why does it all bother me so much?

“Why are you trying so hard?” Creepy had asked me. “Does it really matter to you so much?” This probably hit me even more. At 3 in the morning, when you have just come back from ‘HS’, you’re really in no state to answer such things. Don’t people get it? I’m trying hard because my need to make things just fine before I leave is insane. It even drives me mad. I can’t help it. I do things like that. I’m trying because when I like people in my life, I don’t want them to go. I run that extra mile for people I want to run it for.

So, I’m shouting and nobody gets me. Is it because I’m spelling it all wrong or because I’m so loud and fast that it’s gibberish or because sometimes it’s easier to ignore whats slapping you right in your face?

I’m fine. Not cranky, not complaining. Just bothered. Why? I just don’t know. Maybe it’ll be easier if I just stopped thinking and assuming and rethinking and presuming. Maybe the best for me would be to stop, cause sometimes letting go is the only answer.