Cleche, did you say?

Blue sky
Red roses
Big butts
Long noses


You love them all,
I love them as much as you.
We both love love-
it's the biggest cliche,
the best one too.

---------

It's true. Some of the best things in life are free..or cliched.

We all love cliches. It makes sense and that's why it's a cliche. Everyone says it's cliche, therefore making it less cliched than ever!

So now cliche is good.


Ta!

>EDIT: AND it's a cool thing to say ofcourse!

Say it: Kleee-shey!

Choosing the path that he must take is quite a simple feat for him. Because the path that he sees is just one. One goal, one mission, one vision and one mind. One mind, with a million possibilities. So many choices, so many people, so much colour, so much freedom and so much life. Yet, the path is one. The mind is one. The mind of a person that is but a mere human, subject to the life that is his. A master of his own.

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I've been stressed for a while now. Its not like me to be disturbed for too long usually. I used to take pride in being quite resilient and 'emotionally strong' (according to my final year psychology tests). But i've been this way for the past few weeks.

It's simply unacceptable now, not when I don't have pregnancy or PMS to back me up. I have no business eating up other people's patience just because I'm not in my best mood.

Oo, speaking of eating up, dig this:


Incubus: Dig





Now listening to: Dave Matthews band - The Space between us.

It's an extraordinary feeling to have someone that is there, always. To handle everything for you. Not just to tell you that everything will be ok, but to make things ok for you. To remind you to be grateful to have them, and everyone else that means something to you. To make you feel special in more ways than one.

-----------

This is the best birthday gift I ever got.

Thank you :)

Love,

The day I see this man in real life,

1. I will kiss him wildly.

and then..

2. I will die peacefully.

..of you

I heard his heart
beat my name,
but
with the wrong spelling.

What is different this time?

What is different about Us?

We sleep like two open brackets lying on the same side. My hair is forever in your face. I push it away exasperatedly. You are gentler with it. And when it finally comes in the way of a kiss, in reckless abandon I ask you, shall I shave it all away? You smile and hold me tighter.

Your eyes are the most unreadable things I have ever turned to. May be it’s because I'm always distracted by the soft lines that form a pattern in the corners of your eyes, every time you smile. I'll learn their language some day and know all your secrets.

It is you who points out the stars in the sky and tells me their names. Sleepy eyes; they sometimes hardly register. But I know that you will be there at night tomorrow, to tell me their names all over again.

It's just strange, this feeling.
Why does it happen?
Why now?
Meant to be?
Is it?
Maybe not.
But could be.
Should it?

May be I do love you, in my own small way.
May be it usually does not work for you.
But may be it will work for you this time; WE're usually unusual.

Or may be, Love is just overrated.

what happens if I say..

no?

Some day, I will be able to answer that.

Complaint

What IS the matter with people?

Why can't they ever be content with the way things are? Why can't they ever appreciate the GOOD things and shove the rest to the back? Why can't they SILENTLY analyse the cause of the not-so-good things in their lives (if they HAVE to think about it)? Why do they have to burden their friends/family/strangers they meet on public buses or even non-living books and guitars with their worries? Why do people have to "vent out" their ever so complicated feelings? Why do they have to subject unwanted on-lookers to stories of their (apparently) miserable lives? Why can't they let go? Why do they make complete idiots of themselves by trusting someone enough to confide in them and that they won't get bored, while unknowingly risking the same people heave a sigh of relief everytime they manage a conversation without complaints? Why do they have "Rant blogs" and even NAME them so? Why do they wallow in self-pity and expect (rather, want) others to pity them as well? Why do they breakdown at the slightest provocation and label themselves 'sensitive' instead of calling themselves fools? Why do people use the word 'emo' (this is honestly beyond me!)?

Why? Why do they never cease to complain? Why can't they just be alright, if not happy and stop whining, if not start smiling?