<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158</id><updated>2012-01-03T13:26:57.628-08:00</updated><category term='Anxiety attack induced thoughts....'/><category term='friendship'/><category term='Reflections.'/><category term='Anger.'/><category term='wall problems.'/><category term='rain induced thoughts.'/><category term='Depression.'/><category term='RAIN.HAPPINESS.'/><category term='demented thoughts'/><category term='midnight snacks. Happniess.'/><category term='ranting under depression.'/><category term='Looking for symbolism.'/><category term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>Thoughts of an Insomniac</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>73</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3374351989328437034</id><published>2012-01-03T13:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T13:26:57.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My vein hurts, the one in the crook of my elbow on my right arm. The other day this man pushed a needle in to draw blood, except he kept pushing the needle around a little too much, making me emit various notes of the sa re ga ma. But of course I cant speak about this. I told my mother about it night before last, she screamed at me for not telling her earlier. Now if I tell you at 11 in the night that my vein hurts its not because I want you to call me a doctor right then, but maybe you could consult him in the morning? But no. I am fault because I spoke about it at 11 in the night. And tonight at 12:30 when it hurts again because my arm was in a folded position for a long time, I made a mistake of mentioning it again. What happens? My mother tells me she is not expected to remember such insignificant things because she has greater matters to deal with. Of course, she is a businesswoman, she's running the finances, I get it. But what happened to the mother bit? Tell me, when you go to either one of your parents to tell them that your vein hurts, would you expect them to tell you that they will call the doctor in the morning, or would you expect to be reminded how insignificant your hurting arm is in comparison to the greater good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What follows is a theatrical performance. The losing of my exceedingly short temper, a lengthy monologue delivered by my mother accompanied by those salty drops, me shutting my bedroom door and realizing my throat hurts and I believe the name calling is still on from the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the moment I take a pause. Coz honestly, I dont know why I'm writing this. Is it because Piu's phone is busy and I need to let this out? Is it because I cant stand writing a personal diary and would rather write it here, in the open? Is it because I like writing in general? or is it because, as someone once said, I use my blogs to gain sympathy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother just said a lot of things. She said she'd rather not have a daughter like me. She said she hates me. She said I'm a two faced bitch who is sucking her dry like I did with my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said a lot of things too. I said she should have aborted me instead. I said I dont love her either thankyouverymuch. I said if it hadnt been for their stupid last minute decision changes, I wouldnt have been trapped here in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just needed to let it out you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont have the emotional range of a teaspoon like Ron. But even a person with a big fat handi for an emotional range bubbles over sometimes. What with being a bad daughter and sucking my father's lifeblood out of him and now doing the same with my mother, friendships I had made my peace with a long time ago turning out to be the wrong choice after all, a three year old friend who's almost like my sister deciding our friendship was worth giving up for a three month old friendship. There's a lot there. Plus there's the constant feeling that the world is coming to an end, and no I'm not talking about 2012 and all, I'm just talking about my anxiety attacks. There's the constant fear of 'aamra shobai raaja'( ppl involved in Arup Ratan will understand this), and the haunting sense of loneliness. Questions as to whether I am mad or the world is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvia Plath said 'because you never know when the bell jar descends', but I'm telling you, the bell jar never ascended in the first place, it was always there, separating me from the world with a sheet of glass, with its limited supply of oxygen that I have used again and again and again, until I feel the very air I breathe in is suffocating me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3374351989328437034?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3374351989328437034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-vein-hurts-one-in-crook-of-my-elbow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3374351989328437034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3374351989328437034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-vein-hurts-one-in-crook-of-my-elbow.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1828191512745070111</id><published>2011-07-04T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T12:28:56.370-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'>Loss</title><content type='html'>Losing everything you've written over the last 2 to 3 years feels like losing a child. I feel so empty right now... like a mother who's just suffered a miscarriage tending to her empty womb. Its like, a part of me is gone... forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1828191512745070111?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1828191512745070111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/07/loss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1828191512745070111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1828191512745070111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/07/loss.html' title='Loss'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5427695993450643404</id><published>2011-06-30T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T16:30:29.496-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demented thoughts'/><title type='text'>Thoughts of an Insomniac</title><content type='html'>Its 4:36 am in the morning, I have to be out of bed by 8:30 and in the University by 11. Now if you were in my shoes wouldn't you have been in bed already for like... 4 hours? But what do I do? I sit here writing blogs. I'm not even sure of what I'm writing right now really. There's no coherence in my head. I fight really hard to keep some things under a lid, but at times they escape, and the timing is always perfect! I feel angry right now! Angry for having indulged in intense conversations and dwelt on things I should have been ignoring! I mean honestly! is this the time? I'm going to be late tomorrow morning, because I will miss my alarm, then I will suffer from anxiety because I'm late and finally totter into class drunk from lack of sleep! Such a pretty picture! I should just kill myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to make something clear. I hate the milk producing mammal and I hate the hairy ape she dated! I dont care if my hatred is based on someone else's lies, all I know is it is too potent and I cant even begin reasoning with myself when it comes to this. Emotions arent things that go out of your system like potty, and hate is a very powerful emotion. Maybe I'm incredibly stupid because I dont believe in theories like realize what actually happened and move on and be indifferent to all of it, but its who I am. As an individual I have certain ways and methods and defense mechanisms of dealing with things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strength isnt always in fighting back. It requires an enormous amount of strength to keep everything inside as well. And as evil and stupid some people are, no one escapes karma. You build relationships on someone else's tears, those relationships break. You manipulate someone because you know they love you, you end up deprived of love as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead and live in an imaginary world where I wronged you and you were just unfortunate to come across someone who turned out just like the rest and betrayed you too. But surely even you must have some part of yourself telling you that it knows the truth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to be sure no one is in any doubt anymore... I repeat... The girl I used to know died a long time ago... the monster that took its place I heartily despise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5427695993450643404?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5427695993450643404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/thoughts-of-insomniac.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5427695993450643404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5427695993450643404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/thoughts-of-insomniac.html' title='Thoughts of an Insomniac'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8879430540733398151</id><published>2011-06-26T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T09:58:33.367-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demented thoughts'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A moment of clarity&lt;br /&gt;and you realize your reality&lt;br /&gt;is nothing but a farce&lt;br /&gt;that you use&lt;br /&gt;to amuse yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just lies and pasted smiles&lt;br /&gt;meaningless words and pretended moods&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But its all coming down&lt;br /&gt;a little bit&lt;br /&gt;every day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its crumbling...&lt;br /&gt;crumbling...&lt;br /&gt;crumbling...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8879430540733398151?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8879430540733398151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/moment-of-clarity-and-you-realize-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8879430540733398151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8879430540733398151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/moment-of-clarity-and-you-realize-your.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6236374777492622937</id><published>2011-06-08T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T09:55:07.729-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demented thoughts'/><title type='text'>Closure</title><content type='html'>Let me tell you something about myself. I have been angry for quite some time now. Actually anger would be an understatement, I have been furious, covered up to my neck in rage, the kind of rage that turns you into a sadist, makes you imagine horrible things happening to people who've hurt you, and you standing there with a scorn on your lips. And I hate it, and I'm tired of it. This is not me, I miss my sweet, naive and devastatingly optimistic self. I miss the person who used to make others believe that you can overcome glitches in your friendships and relationships, that in the end love makes forgiving easy, and that bonds dont have to break. But then one of my most important and cherished bonds broke, and it left a cynical mind and a dead body behind. At first I was amazed at how fast I'd recovered this time, heck! one night! that's a record right? But now that I look back the only thing I managed to do was repress the hurt to such a degree that I fooled myself into believing it doesnt exist. But it does, only thing is the pain has morphed itself into uncontrollable rage. And I'm tired, tired of being angry all the time. And the reason that I still have so much resentment filled in me is because I never got closure. I just sat there staring at a computer screen while my world fell to pieces. I didnt get to shout, or speak my mind. Well I am going to now, because I want to let go of the anger and move on. I want to be indifferent to this. And in the end this probably wont work, and a degree of sadism will remain, like it remains for the handful of people I hate with all my strength, but maybe this boiling rage, this feeling of having been wronged will go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had psychology for my extra departmental course this semester, and thanks to it I came across a term called projection, it means projecting all your shortcomings and faults onto another person. And it instantly made me think of you, because that is what you did to me. You said I love victimizing myself, and that it is apparent in my blogs, my status updates and my narration to others. You said I never loved you but did whatever I did for you for one and a half years just because I thrived on the fact that I was so important to you.First of all, have you taken a good look at your life? Your entire life has been a web of lies, illusions that you believed so hard in that you made me believe in them as well. And I would have believed in them forever, despite getting to know the opposite everyday, if you hadnt done what you did. But why should I ignore reality anymore? Your entire existence is nothing but a cry for pity. And you my dear, are the last person who has a right to judge me on that ground. My only fault was I chose to talk to friends instead of going insane or popping pills continuously. That doesnt help much does it? I've seen enough to know the results. You think I thrived on the fact that I felt important in your life? Let me tell you something, you thrived because you knew you were so important to me. If I was the one thriving on importance then I would have taken you for granted and not the other way round. I'll tell you what actually happened. You kept telling me stories about how people always leave you, and you were waiting for me to leave too, to continue that perfect streak, to tell later people stories about me, but when I refused to give up you got irritated, projected all you faults and shortcomings on me and left instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not believe in delusions, hence I will not say I hate you. I love you, and a part of me will always love you, its just that I've stopped listing to that part of me. That girl that I fell in love with died. She only exists in my memory and imagination now. And when I retreat into my mind and find her, she's still just as lovable, just as capable of making my eyes fill up with happy tears. But the one that roams around in her skin in the University is nothing but a monster, and I hate her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right, now that that is off my chest... I have a show tomorrow, I will go do more important stuff now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6236374777492622937?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6236374777492622937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/closure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6236374777492622937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6236374777492622937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/06/closure.html' title='Closure'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1725219433619260422</id><published>2011-05-11T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T16:32:02.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not knowing what to do with yourself at 5 in the morning sucks... This is why I hate exam time! My entire cycle goes Topsy-turvy! I go to sleep at 6 in the morning and wake up somewhere around 4. Which is cool, given my obsession with vampires, but I bet vampires don't get anxiety attacks due to exams, and don't read such dreadfully boring stuff like Oroonoko! Aphra Behn! If you were alive I'd make a gujju behn out of you( I don't know why thats relevant, I'm just bored) and kill you! BLOOODY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1725219433619260422?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1725219433619260422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-knowing-what-to-do-with-yourself-at.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1725219433619260422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1725219433619260422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-knowing-what-to-do-with-yourself-at.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6845043300883499861</id><published>2011-05-03T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T15:20:27.192-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>Dear Moomoo</title><content type='html'>I often have very weird realizations, and by realizations I do not mean that these things that I realize have previously been unknown to me. Its just that sometimes the enormity of it just hits me in the face... with a resounding THWACK! SO this is what hit me today... that you really do love me so much. I cant tell you what it feels like to suddenly realize that there is someone out there who looks out for you, looks up to you and turns to you to share her problems, her secret pleasures... her life. I love you so much! Thank you... for everything... =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6845043300883499861?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6845043300883499861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/dear-moomoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6845043300883499861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6845043300883499861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/dear-moomoo.html' title='Dear Moomoo'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8231662783120308363</id><published>2011-05-03T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T15:10:49.113-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anger.'/><title type='text'>Long time no see...</title><content type='html'>Dear Blog,&lt;br /&gt;           I haven't seen you for quite some time! Missed me? Well I didn't miss you, in fact I was trying to bubble wrap your existence and shove it deep inside me like I do with so many other things that I don't want to face, because you remind me of things, relationships... that are dead. God knows I've wanted to write... very badly at times... but then I remembered accusations and stayed away from you. But everyone needs to move on, or least create the illusion of moving on... hence I have come to acknowledge your presence... because frankly dear... I don't care any longer what anyone thinks of my blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't mourned for something that was a big part of my life. One night... that's all I allowed myself. One night of hysterical crying, breathing problems and anxiety attacks. One night. The next morning I looked at myself in the mirror and vowed that I wont shed another tear for someone who doesn't deserve it. But I held myself back from blogging because those accusations were still swirling in my head. Well... today I truly free myself from those bonds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wont hold me back. Not any longer. I've suffered enough for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8231662783120308363?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8231662783120308363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/long-time-no-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8231662783120308363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8231662783120308363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/05/long-time-no-see.html' title='Long time no see...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-4474904491124710104</id><published>2011-03-21T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T11:08:04.725-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>The Gushing Blog!</title><content type='html'>You make me incredibly angry sometimes! I'm sure your'e aware of that! And then there are times you make me realize how much I LOVE you! And at times like these I feel like my heart will burst with love for you! =D Yes I know I sound incredibly cheesy! And your'e probably rolling your eyes reading this! But one doesn't always have the luxury my love! So let me enjoy this! =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you! SOOOOO much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am veary veary( yes the typo is intended) proud of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teddy bear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-4474904491124710104?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/4474904491124710104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/gushing-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4474904491124710104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4474904491124710104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/gushing-blog.html' title='The Gushing Blog!'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-4031676450239415119</id><published>2011-03-16T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T16:06:07.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gobhir Raater Ranting...</title><content type='html'>I have been dancing for the last 2 and a half hours. Practicing Kathak alone, without a tabla, with a weird modern song feels clownish and I'm sure it even looks clownish. I know the order in my head, I do the steps perfectly on sundays during dance class. But somehow for the past 2 and a half hours I have felt incredibly clumsy and dumb. I cant do the simplest of steps, I froze midway my routine for at least 5 times... I dont know what is wrong with me. I have given up for now. On the last attempt I did thankfully remember the order, but the movements had no grace whatsoever, and the most obvious thing... I wasnt smiling. And starting from tomorrow I'm going to be screamed at for that till the next show is over. I wish he would understand we've always been instructed by our teacher to give looks to the audience and maintain a haughty expression,do things which are called Nakhra at times, but never smile, and that too what he demands is not a smile, the description, which when he provides or sometimes demonstrates is that of a laugh. I cant do that. It doesnt come to me. AT ALL. Also... I have no solid food in my system. My right cheek is stuck to my right gum and I cant chew any solids... So until I visit the dentist, which'll probably be friday, I'm on a liquid diet. Now the good thing about it is I have lost 2.5 kilos in 2 days. The bad part is my body has nothing to derive energy from, and while I dont feel that at normal times, I do feel that when I'm dancing continuously for 2 hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its also been a very depressing day, due to reasons unknown. I cheered up for a brief span at night though, but then I made the mistake of telling the person concerned that she had bettered my mood, which for some reason she found unacceptable,and signed off saying I'm daft. My mood spiraled down into dungeons again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ideally I should have been asleep now, because God knows if I'm depriving my body of food I should at least give it some rest! But then there was so much work to do. And its 4:30 and I've only done 3/4ths of it. But I cant work anymore. Its not that I'm particularly sleepy. But I'm tired. I've been neglecting Japanese these past few night. I shouldnt be. I still dont have Hiragana down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever's reading this... you ever have one of those days when nothing in particular depresses you but suddenly the world seems like a gloomier place? Like every matter you turn your attention to seems negative? Why didnt it work out? Why isnt it working out? But wouldnt I run if it actually did work out? Do I deserve either of them? Will he win tomorrow? Why on Earth am I worried about that? So many questions playing havoc inside your head! But no answers... absolutely no answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go lie down now... and try to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-4031676450239415119?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/4031676450239415119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/gobhir-raater-ranting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4031676450239415119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4031676450239415119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/gobhir-raater-ranting.html' title='Gobhir Raater Ranting...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8264957443132225623</id><published>2011-03-15T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T12:39:35.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>I fell in love with him&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with her&lt;br /&gt;I didn't fall out of love with anyone though&lt;br /&gt;I think.&lt;br /&gt;What a tragedy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think I've moved on from him.&lt;br /&gt;His words don't make me swoon anymore&lt;br /&gt;My insides don't dry up from his absence&lt;br /&gt;and yet&lt;br /&gt;when he passes by&lt;br /&gt;I realize&lt;br /&gt;a part of my heart&lt;br /&gt;will always be his =)&lt;br /&gt;And no... it doesn't hurt...&lt;br /&gt;not anymore&lt;br /&gt;Is that moving on?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even make an effort to pretend&lt;br /&gt;that I have moved on from her&lt;br /&gt;because I haven't&lt;br /&gt;and it will take time&lt;br /&gt;and yes&lt;br /&gt;sometimes...&lt;br /&gt;it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;But its no one's fault&lt;br /&gt;really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't deserve any one of them though...&lt;br /&gt;He's the captured perfection of another era...&lt;br /&gt;every woman's dream&lt;br /&gt;a poet and a poem in himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's perfection playing hide and seek&lt;br /&gt;in your grasp a second&lt;br /&gt;flowing out like sand the other&lt;br /&gt;She's thunder&lt;br /&gt;She's rain&lt;br /&gt;She's the most exquisite pain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And me?&lt;br /&gt;Sigh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8264957443132225623?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8264957443132225623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-fell-in-love-with-him-i-fell-in-love.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8264957443132225623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8264957443132225623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-fell-in-love-with-him-i-fell-in-love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1458409121578297705</id><published>2011-02-23T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:07:41.886-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'>Night time poetry</title><content type='html'>You came like a gust of wind,&lt;br /&gt;A torrent of rain,&lt;br /&gt;A sea of flowers&lt;br /&gt;And I drowned&lt;br /&gt;In your laughter&lt;br /&gt;In your beauty&lt;br /&gt;In your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times like these,&lt;br /&gt;When I sit alone&lt;br /&gt;I think of you.&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder&lt;br /&gt;If you think of me too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you&lt;br /&gt;With all I had&lt;br /&gt;Until this heart ran dry.&lt;br /&gt;And  now&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it cracking &lt;br /&gt;But I don’t know&lt;br /&gt;Why I cant cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came like a drop of rain&lt;br /&gt;To this parched soul&lt;br /&gt;To this tired mind.&lt;br /&gt;We laughed,&lt;br /&gt;We loved,&lt;br /&gt;We lived,&lt;br /&gt;It ended.&lt;br /&gt;I died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were like a song,&lt;br /&gt;A poem,&lt;br /&gt;A dream.&lt;br /&gt;That I sang,&lt;br /&gt;I wrote,&lt;br /&gt;I lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the dream changed,&lt;br /&gt;I left&lt;br /&gt;And I died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This heart longs for you at times,&lt;br /&gt;This soul screams out your name,&lt;br /&gt;It’s an almost physical ache,&lt;br /&gt;And I double over&lt;br /&gt;With the pain&lt;br /&gt;The emptiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every night,&lt;br /&gt;Not unlike tonight,&lt;br /&gt;A little bit&lt;br /&gt;I die…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1458409121578297705?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1458409121578297705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/02/night-time-poetry.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1458409121578297705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1458409121578297705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/02/night-time-poetry.html' title='Night time poetry'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3469292641509763652</id><published>2011-01-27T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T09:05:53.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>onek din pore likhlam...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/TUGl5_l5CMI/AAAAAAAAADg/MKUQY0tIeKE/s1600/image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 184px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/TUGl5_l5CMI/AAAAAAAAADg/MKUQY0tIeKE/s320/image.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566913030148131010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moner maajhe eto koshto&lt;br /&gt;Aar baire jogot ondhokar&lt;br /&gt;Eto koshto lokai kothae?&lt;br /&gt;Ei aadhare tomae khuje berai kothae?&lt;br /&gt;Amar  chokher joler rong laal&lt;br /&gt;Kintu se tumi aar dekhle koi?&lt;br /&gt;Tumi toh dekhte chaona kichu&lt;br /&gt;Dekhle  jodi  bhul bhaange?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3469292641509763652?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3469292641509763652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/01/onek-din-pore-likhlam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3469292641509763652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3469292641509763652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2011/01/onek-din-pore-likhlam.html' title='onek din pore likhlam...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/TUGl5_l5CMI/AAAAAAAAADg/MKUQY0tIeKE/s72-c/image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3407835258285827122</id><published>2010-11-22T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T09:33:11.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It’s been lonely since you left. Everyone goes back to someone at the end of the day, their boyfriend, their best friend, their family… someone who makes up their home and I can’t help but feel hollow… because you were mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3407835258285827122?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3407835258285827122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-been-lonely-since-you-left.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3407835258285827122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3407835258285827122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-been-lonely-since-you-left.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-7864465433472573197</id><published>2010-11-05T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T11:29:58.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dipabali...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Moner moddhe ondhokaar hole&lt;br /&gt;baire baati jele ki hobe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-7864465433472573197?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/7864465433472573197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/dipabali.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7864465433472573197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7864465433472573197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/dipabali.html' title='Dipabali...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2019182604577183495</id><published>2010-11-04T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T02:16:44.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tissue papers and bills&lt;br /&gt;scribbled on in black ink&lt;br /&gt;a silver ring&lt;br /&gt;a red necklace&lt;br /&gt;a pair of silver anklets&lt;br /&gt;thats all that remains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try not to look at them&lt;br /&gt;they remind me of your absence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clutch onto them &lt;br /&gt;They fill a fraction of that gaping hole in me&lt;br /&gt;that used to be you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eat&lt;br /&gt;because I promised you&lt;br /&gt;I would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The effort of downing every morsel&lt;br /&gt;drains me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stand over the toilet bowl&lt;br /&gt;coughing&lt;br /&gt;nauseous&lt;br /&gt;dizzy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gulp down the tears&lt;br /&gt;becuase I promised you&lt;br /&gt;I wouldnt cry&lt;br /&gt;And I cant cry much on my own anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few sounds escape though&lt;br /&gt;and worry my mother&lt;br /&gt;I give her stupid excuses&lt;br /&gt;She pretends to believe me&lt;br /&gt;or maybe she does believe me&lt;br /&gt;I am a good actress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;over-reacting... Am I?&lt;br /&gt;Being a Drama Queen?&lt;br /&gt;Showing my pain too much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont care really&lt;br /&gt;I cant be a hypocrite and smile&lt;br /&gt;while I'm dying inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You said you wanted me to heal&lt;br /&gt;you said you wanted me to be happy&lt;br /&gt;you said I deserved better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this what I deserve?&lt;br /&gt;Is this happiness according to you?&lt;br /&gt;Is waking up wishing I was dead &lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;feeling that hole in me grow &lt;br /&gt;a little bit more each day&lt;br /&gt;while the rough edges bleed&lt;br /&gt;called healing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nisshash phelatake beche thaaka bole na&lt;br /&gt;eta amar cheye beshi tui bujhish&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2019182604577183495?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2019182604577183495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/tissue-papers-and-bills-scribbled-on-in.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2019182604577183495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2019182604577183495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/tissue-papers-and-bills-scribbled-on-in.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-179449583426684069</id><published>2010-11-03T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T11:12:44.948-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Looking for symbolism.'/><title type='text'>Signs I should have noticed... but didn't! 0_0</title><content type='html'>* Writing 'Insomnia and Anxiety'&lt;br /&gt;* The excessive anxiety&lt;br /&gt;* The piece that Piu and I did for Friday's class&lt;br /&gt;* The misplaced episode from True blood season 3 where Bill tells Sookie that he loves her but they cant be together for her own sake, and then Sookie cries her heart out on the hospital bed and Bill leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess Life often tries to warn you about what is to come. It has warned me all the time, because this has happened to me before. But I, as always, pushed my fears down, hoping it would mean nothing, but it does, each and every time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-179449583426684069?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/179449583426684069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/signs-i-should-have-noticed-but-didnt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/179449583426684069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/179449583426684069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/signs-i-should-have-noticed-but-didnt.html' title='Signs I should have noticed... but didn&apos;t! 0_0'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8032686072643314879</id><published>2010-11-01T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T11:23:29.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Splitting headache induced poetry</title><content type='html'>I can distract myself the entire day&lt;br /&gt;but where will I run to at night?&lt;br /&gt;The thousand invisible hands tearing at my soul catch up&lt;br /&gt;and I am left gasping for breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am drowning in a sea of pain&lt;br /&gt;it looks for inlets and rushes in&lt;br /&gt;my head feels dizzy&lt;br /&gt;my eyes hurt&lt;br /&gt;my heart hurts&lt;br /&gt;the liquid pain has filled my insides&lt;br /&gt;clogged my systems&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant stand it&lt;br /&gt;but I dont want to get rid of it&lt;br /&gt;just a little strength and patience to bear with it&lt;br /&gt;because the pain is the only reminder&lt;br /&gt;that 'we' existed&lt;br /&gt;and without it&lt;br /&gt;I would have nothing to hold on to&lt;br /&gt;and I dont want to drown in that black nothingness&lt;br /&gt;again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S... An earlier post titled Insomnia and Anxiety makes more sense now. Heck! How intuitive am I? 0_0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8032686072643314879?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8032686072643314879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/splitting-headache-induced-poetry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8032686072643314879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8032686072643314879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/11/splitting-headache-induced-poetry.html' title='Splitting headache induced poetry'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5517026932086499099</id><published>2010-10-30T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T08:50:07.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I miss having a family. Those long summer vacations filled with cousins, laughter, weddings, wild Calcutta trips, Rasna and board games....hhhmmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5517026932086499099?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5517026932086499099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-miss-having-family-those-long-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5517026932086499099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5517026932086499099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-miss-having-family-those-long-summer.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-9091927797683041010</id><published>2010-10-27T12:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T12:47:16.802-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anxiety attack induced thoughts....'/><title type='text'>Insomnia and Anxiety</title><content type='html'>The same meaningless fear every night&lt;br /&gt;dreading the end of something that had never begun&lt;br /&gt;the clock ticks away&lt;br /&gt;and I shut my eyes&lt;br /&gt;put fingers in my ears&lt;br /&gt;to not see or hear its passage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I build a glass palace&lt;br /&gt;knowing well it will shatter&lt;br /&gt;or has it shattered already?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hear voices inside my head&lt;br /&gt;facts that have turned into monsters&lt;br /&gt;from neglect&lt;br /&gt;from suppression&lt;br /&gt;they squeeze my innards&lt;br /&gt;climb the walls of my inside&lt;br /&gt;threatening to come gushing out of my mouth&lt;br /&gt;eyes&lt;br /&gt;ears&lt;br /&gt;every pore of my body&lt;br /&gt;and tear me to pieces&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The imperfect outer shell&lt;br /&gt;nests a demented mind&lt;br /&gt;and a cracked heart&lt;br /&gt;that yearns for pain &lt;br /&gt;and love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its you&lt;br /&gt;and its me too&lt;br /&gt;and yet I'm hoping&lt;br /&gt;that two halves will somehow &lt;br /&gt;make a whole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-9091927797683041010?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/9091927797683041010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/insomnia-and-anxiety.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/9091927797683041010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/9091927797683041010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/insomnia-and-anxiety.html' title='Insomnia and Anxiety'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5610913238691072468</id><published>2010-10-01T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T12:08:33.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The faces all around me they don't smile they just crack&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for our ship to come but our ships not coming back&lt;br /&gt;We do our time like pennies in a jar&lt;br /&gt;What are we saving for &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins.&lt;br /&gt;The drinking never stops because the drinks absolve our sins&lt;br /&gt;We sit and grow our roots into the floor&lt;br /&gt;But what are we waiting for? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So give me something to believe&lt;br /&gt;Cause I am living just to breathe&lt;br /&gt;And I need something more&lt;br /&gt;To keep on breathing for&lt;br /&gt;So give me something to believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something's always coming you can hear it in the ground&lt;br /&gt;It swells into the air&lt;br /&gt;With the rising&lt;br /&gt;Rising sound&lt;br /&gt;And never comes but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors&lt;br /&gt;What are we waiting for &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hiding from some beast&lt;br /&gt;But the beast was always here&lt;br /&gt;Watching without eyes&lt;br /&gt;Because the beast is just my fear&lt;br /&gt;That I am just nothing&lt;br /&gt;Now its just what I've become&lt;br /&gt;What am I waiting for&lt;br /&gt;Its already done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5610913238691072468?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5610913238691072468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/faces-all-around-me-they-dont-smile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5610913238691072468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5610913238691072468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/10/faces-all-around-me-they-dont-smile.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8189413037468943965</id><published>2010-09-27T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T08:45:01.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Afternoons....</title><content type='html'>aamar rod bhaalo lagena, amar ghore bichanar paashe dewalta puro kaacher janla, kintu aami kono din porda shoraina. Oshojjo laage rod amar! Otocho onno karor ghore boshe aar ek kaacher dewal bhed kore jokhon rod gaae eshe porlo tokhon besh bhaalo lagchilo.Mone hocchilo jeno onek din pore moner haarano shatituku khuje peyechi. Kono shobdo na, kono kotha na, ghorer aar ek kone ekta chele boshe saralipite kaaj korche, aar janlar paashe bichanae aami boshe aachi, baere theke maajhe maajhe haashi, kotha aar sur shona jaache, kintu aami tokhun aar shekhani chilam koi? aami onek din pore ektu shanti khuje peyechilum, aamar mon baerer aakashe megher saathe lukochuri khelchilo. ektu pore aaro lok elo, keu neeche boshe kaaj korche, aar keu amar paashe boshe guitar bajacche, bhaloi toh chilo... shesh keno holo? nijer baari theke dure onno karor ghore boshe khanek khuner jonyo mone hoechilo prithibita hoeto ekhuni dhyongsho hobena... kintu aar mone hocche na. Amar bhoy kore. khub bhoy kore. okarone bhoy kore. er ki kono upae nei?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8189413037468943965?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8189413037468943965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/09/afternoons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8189413037468943965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8189413037468943965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/09/afternoons.html' title='Afternoons....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-320651991850790974</id><published>2010-08-31T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T09:34:04.125-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>Need to rant...</title><content type='html'>I cant write anymore... When I first discovered blogging, it used to be the one place I could come back to and vent, or write happy things. My journals never survive, I always throw them away, coz after a while they bug me, bug me to such an extent that they set off panic attacks whenever I see them( or maybe its just my supposed GAD)... but whatever... point is... when I discovered blog-spot, I was so happy! Coz here was this one place where I could let it all out! But that stopped. Eventually I just clogged up once again. There are nights when I cant breathe, I cant move, when I sit paralyzed, thinking that the world is coming to an end, and I write... I write in my mind... but somehow, I cant write on my blog. Its nothing unnatural really, for a person like me. I wouldn't call myself an introvert, I am what is described in Bengali as 'chaapa'... I guess the literal translation of that would mean 'held down'? I dunno if that makes sense... but that's how I feel. I don't easily vent when I'm upset... I ALMOST never vent actually, because everyone has problems of their own right? Why burden the world with mine as well? I'm good for the listening part... not the venting part. But believe it or not I wasn't always like this. There was a time when I could... I would vent... when I could and I did cry, but that was ages ago! Then one fine morning I got up, looked at myself in the mirror and said... enough of this, people will not call you weak anymore! &lt;br /&gt;I am perfectly capable of taking these random decisions, more like my sub conscious self keeps going over it for a long time and then passes it onto my conscious self... and BOOM! I have taken a decision! The same goes for my ability to shut down in the face of severe depression... I'll take all the pain,all the humiliation, all the shit that you dole out to me, and then one fine day after I have drowned completely... I will shut down, and walk around like a zombie. So that's what happened... and then I became this person who keeps taking it... taking it... taking it... who holds all her rage, frustration and panic down until none of it makes sense anymore... until the reasons have been forgotten... and all that is left is blind anxiety and a lot of pain... which in turn causes uncalled for depression...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm drowning sometimes... ALL THE TIME! And I'm desperately trying to clutch onto things... people... memories(?)... but all the while... I'm sinking a little further in... its like being stuck in a bog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess certain things are supposed to happen at certain times... and then they don't... and that emptiness... the fact that it didn't happen... leaves you scarred for life... changes you in ways you don't like... I don't know how may times I've said this, But I need to... AGAIN! and I kinda don't care if ur rolling your eyes at the computer screen right now! back in class 12... rather after class 12... I was supposed to go to UK... It was one of those things that HAD to happen... and then it didnt. I look back at myself then... that strong ambitious girl who was ready to jump into that big adventure! Who was already living in UK in her mind... Sure she was broken down... sure she was hurt... but she had that spirit in her... the one that stays intact no matter what... the one that drives you. She was so sure of what she wanted... she had firm decisions made. But then I didn't go... and that broke me... scarred me... damaged me in ways I cant explain... There will always be this vast gaping hole in my life... the hole that was supposed to be UK... and nothing is ever going to fill that up. And then there's me now... indecisive, unsure of what she wants... trying to tell herself to live life one step at a time! BECAUSE SHE BLOODY HELL CANT DECIDE WHAT SHE WANTS! SHE DOESN'T HAVE A PLAN ANYMORE!AND THAT SUCKS! COZ SHE ALWAYS HAD A PLAN! ALWAYS! SHE HAD HER ACADEMIC LIFE CHALKED OUT! AND SHE DOESN'T ANYMORE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew what I wanted... Five years in UK... undergrad and masters... and then research... that was the only undecided part... whether I'd do the research in India or in the UK. Though I was more inclined on India...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then that dream broke... and I landed in JUDE... I think I see why JUDE had to happen now... Minu coming back, that only happened coz we constantly came across each other in the university, otherwise as much as I always secretly hoped, on the outside, I had given up hope... Finding Rudrani... And I think JUDE is also very much responsible for making me realize that I'm not a classical literature person... AT ALL... and that my true calling is Asian Literature... I discovered theater in JUDE... maybe I would have abroad as well... but its just one of those things that JUDE made me realize I have in me... So a huge thank you to JUDE for all those things... But yeah... UK not happening had its after effects. Back then I had it all figured out... I knew which University I'd be attending... now... I don't even know which country I want... whether I want UK( pro:childhood dream, con: they're more of old English specialists)... or US( Pro:They might be better equipped for someone who wants to study something as unheard of as Asian Literature, college life with Rudrani, Con: As emotionally driven as I am, will I be able to overcome that mental image of always wanting to make it to UK?)... BIG QUESTION: Will mum even finance my college abroad? What if she doesn't? What if I get stuck here all over again and watch people leave... like I did before? That WILL call for a suicide attempt... I assure you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; anyway... enough of ranting... and to think I began this post by saying I cant write anymore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-320651991850790974?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/320651991850790974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/08/need-to-rant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/320651991850790974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/320651991850790974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/08/need-to-rant.html' title='Need to rant...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5139190376074416122</id><published>2010-08-18T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T15:28:38.161-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I LIVE WITH A BUNCH OF MORONS WHO HAVE NO RESPECT FOR MY NEEDS OR WANTS OR NECESSITIES WHATSOEVER! AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5139190376074416122?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5139190376074416122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-live-with-bunch-of-morons-who-have-no.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5139190376074416122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5139190376074416122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-live-with-bunch-of-morons-who-have-no.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8947000266615449334</id><published>2010-07-30T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T12:21:23.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes... all you need is a little time off... =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8947000266615449334?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8947000266615449334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/sometimes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8947000266615449334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8947000266615449334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/sometimes.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2514220236995412603</id><published>2010-07-16T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T13:44:41.011-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>The post that should never have been posted.</title><content type='html'>There are certain things that you just cant talk about. Some things you cant even write about in your blog. Some things you cant share with anyone else. Secrets, and the pain of these secrets, that must be borne alone. All you CAN do is beat about the bush on your blog hoping that this will provide some degree of relief from the constant feeling of nausea and the almost physical ache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a secret that I didn't even want to repeat to myself, an epiphany which I should have never had, and the moment this realization struck me, I wrapped this information up in bubble wrap and stuffed it down deep within myself, so that nothing would harm it, but the constant screams echoing from it wouldn't reach my ears either. But today, when I was blackmailed into digging it out, unwrapping it and handing it over to the one person who should have never known, I figured it has actually been eating me away from the inside. I have hole in the pit of my stomach now... or at least that's what it feels like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried... I tried to not think of it anymore, to wrap it back up and stuff it down that hole again. But my insides feel extremely scrambled right now, like someone took a wire hanger and made great sweeping motions with it, and now there is a storm raging within me, which wont subside that easily. I even tried exhausting myself so much that I'd not be able to listen to the howling inside, but that too didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after dancing to like 5 songs and rehearsing 'shyamolo shundoro' for quite a long time, I finally decided to let some of it out, but the ironical part is, all this while I was pushing the tears back in, but now when I wanted to cry they wouldn't come. Happens with me all the time. Hence I am left utterly physically exhausted, to the point where I feel sick, and emitting weird animal noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideally this blog should never have been written, and come to think of it, it didn't help as much as I thought it would, but I didn't know what else to do. I'd love to rant to someone, cry to someone... but I cant. Not this time at least. Hence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I messed up today... I should never have told you, but you blackmailed me very badly... even you would agree to that. But hey... I fulfilled your wish didn't I? =D&lt;br /&gt;You very openly wanted this to happen. I am really tempted to quote what you always say! Heehee...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... enough of beating about the bush... I shall go vomit now... extremely nauseous... excuse me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I will not entertain any questions on this matter. Go back and read first paragraph if you have a question.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2514220236995412603?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2514220236995412603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/post-that-should-never-have-been-posted.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2514220236995412603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2514220236995412603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/post-that-should-never-have-been-posted.html' title='The post that should never have been posted.'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6154687009710392425</id><published>2010-07-16T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T13:12:26.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>And that was the second time I cried at a coffee shop in front of you! Crap man!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6154687009710392425?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6154687009710392425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/and-that-was-second-time-i-cried-at.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6154687009710392425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6154687009710392425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/07/and-that-was-second-time-i-cried-at.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2723864401915395235</id><published>2010-06-03T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T14:38:08.777-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>Just Ranting...</title><content type='html'>I am scared. I look at these long golu molu fingers with inch long nails painted red typing away on the keyboard, but I do not know who they belong to. The life force within me is on the verge of extinction. It feels like it has been cut up into several pieces like Voldemort's horcruxes, and I do not know where the others went, but this utterly diminished one that still lives on inside me hides in some dark corner and watches with amazement as this alien body works independently. Its quite simple really, you can create horcruxes by killing. For every kill a piece of you detaches itself from your body(not literally of course!). And what happened here was every time I was struck down a part of me died or detached itself from me and went away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The anxiety attack hasn't stopped since the utter breakdown last night, it was just suppressed till I was busy, waiting just beneath the surface, dying to break through once the mind was free, and it did. And as I turned away with a very tough sounding 'okay bye', a pit opened up in my stomach and my hands shook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did this happen? when did I land up here? Nights have always been bad, due to the lack of sleep. But never this bad. The hours pass by listening to music that literally hurts the ears, and yet feels so soothing at the same time, or staring at the flame of the candle inside the pretty glass with white, round designs on it, or watching some horror/thriller movie or gossip girl episodes on the comp while my eyes burn from the smoke of the bleeding expensive extra mild smokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least tonight I have the ability to write, the other nights don't even grant me that. there's just darkness, outside and inside, and an unnatural calm that nothing can shatter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ask me for reasons I cant give you solid ones really, they're all rather vague. The most concrete one of them is thankfully coming to an end(I think), but it too has left a lot of scars that need to heal. Apart from that there's a lot of vicarious pain and a deep rooted fear of losing one of my pillars. And the constant reminder from my mother as to what a bad daughter I am and how she curses the day I was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big deal, so I cant be the ideal daughter! GO DEAL WITH IT! But I refuse to resort to hypocrisy for achieving my ends, I'd rather be bluntly honest, thankyouverymuch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at the end of the day when I look at myself in the mirror I come across this failure looking back at me. One who lost out on an opportunity of a lifetime. And I dont think this wound will ever heal. And I don't think my mom will ever understand the fact that when I lost U.K, my childhood dream, I lost more than just an education abroad. I lost a part of my life. I lost something I had been working towards from the ninth standard. I lost my ray of hope that saw me through the final days of the twelfth standard. In my mind I was already living there... believe it or not I even had a routine chalked out about how i would spend my weekends! And then the tables turned, and I watched people leave Kolkata and go while I stayed behind. And believe me... it easier to bear it when you're the one leaving, but if you're staying behind, then God save you from that feeling. And now once again I'll have someone one going off too, and that will leave me crumbled inside from a lot of angles. Firstly because she's one of the pillars who's holding me up, and second because I'll feel that sense of being left behind once again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People keep telling me that I'll go to U.K for my post grad and things will be fine. I'll live my dream. But I have this ominous feeling inside me which says its not happening. And my gut feeling usually proves right. So once again at the end of three years when the two people who made JUDE home for me will leave, I'll stay behind to be haunted my their memories in the University, because apparently JUDE is the best deal in the country for a post grad programme if you're looking for an academic career. And while I am looking for one, the two above mentioned people intend to take up different courses for their masters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I walk down the street I have this gnawing feeling inside me which tells me that I'm worthless. I'm just another face lost in the crowd, people pass me by without taking a second look. I have to change that. If there's one thing I'm scared of the most, its being lost in the crowd. I HAVE to stand out! I NEED to stand out! I need to leave a legacy behind, people need to know me before I'm dead. Otherwise whats the point? To have lived and died like thousand others and not having left a mark behind? not having made a difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I sound too over ambitious? Maybe I am. But when I lost out on U.K I made a promise to myself to make something out of my life here. And that's exactly what I'm trying to achieve. All the extra curricular activities I'm involved in, its like this one ray of sanity I'm clutching onto. Without it I don't know what I would do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2723864401915395235?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2723864401915395235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-ranting.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2723864401915395235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2723864401915395235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-ranting.html' title='Just Ranting...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-4657433195159609197</id><published>2010-05-23T01:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T01:26:56.594-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>The Sphere of Glass</title><content type='html'>I walked in&lt;br /&gt;protected by a sphere of glass&lt;br /&gt;which had magical powers,&lt;br /&gt;it gave me the ability&lt;br /&gt;to be detached&lt;br /&gt;from everything&lt;br /&gt;and everyone &lt;br /&gt;around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then you walked in,&lt;br /&gt;aimed blatantly &lt;br /&gt;and broke it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the sights&lt;br /&gt;sounds&lt;br /&gt;emotions&lt;br /&gt;that had been on the other side&lt;br /&gt;for a long time&lt;br /&gt;came rushing in&lt;br /&gt;one after the other&lt;br /&gt;overlapping the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it felt as if&lt;br /&gt;someone had breathed life &lt;br /&gt;into my corpse.&lt;br /&gt;And I lived&lt;br /&gt;laughed&lt;br /&gt;loved&lt;br /&gt;felt&lt;br /&gt;for a short while&lt;br /&gt;until you decided&lt;br /&gt;that you had to walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only then did I look down&lt;br /&gt;at myself&lt;br /&gt;and realized&lt;br /&gt;that the shards of glass&lt;br /&gt;from the sphere you had broken&lt;br /&gt;were embedded in my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been too drunk&lt;br /&gt;with happiness&lt;br /&gt;to have noticed it then.&lt;br /&gt;But I notice it now&lt;br /&gt;And I'm bleeding to death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-4657433195159609197?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/4657433195159609197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/sphere-of-glass.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4657433195159609197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4657433195159609197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/sphere-of-glass.html' title='The Sphere of Glass'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2024358781575651888</id><published>2010-05-19T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T07:27:48.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I studied documentation...</title><content type='html'>**In case of multiple authors only first name needs to be inverted:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*In case of two authors:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basu, Kuhu, and Dipabali Dey. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why smart men want dumb women&lt;/span&gt;. Jadavpur University Press. 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*In case of three authors:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basu, Kuhu, Dipabali Dey, and Rudrani Gongopadhay. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Interpreting the Pisces man. &lt;/span&gt;Jadavpur University Press. 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*In case of more than three authors, write only the name of the first author followed by et al.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul, Sreejata, et al. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why Rhetoric and Composition should not be in the syllabus.&lt;/span&gt; Jadavpur University Press. 2010.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2024358781575651888?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2024358781575651888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-case-of-multiple-authors-only-first.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2024358781575651888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2024358781575651888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-case-of-multiple-authors-only-first.html' title='How I studied documentation...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6636491704949846466</id><published>2010-05-13T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T10:33:25.425-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>A Fairytale Friendship...</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two princesses living in two separate kingdoms far away from each other. The Gods looked down upon them, following their life constantly, because they had been sent to Earth with a special purpose, to relieve their fellow human beings of pain and misery and to love selflessly. They had been given special powers, they could drink in abnormal amounts of pain and not break down, for this was often necessary for fulfilling their purpose on Earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after a while, the Gods saw that the princesses were suffering and were miserable. They faced the world with a smile, but the smile never warmed their own hearts. The gods fell into deep thought, what was to be done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one of the the young Gods-in-training offered a solution. He appealed to the High God, " Sire... I believe these girls need a friend to share their pain with, and in turn lessen it if not dissolve it, so that their hearts are lighter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The High God liked the solution, and then the search for two girls who could be perfect friends to the princesses began. But no matter how hard they looked, they could not find perfect matches. At last, exhausted, the search was abandoned...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then the same God-in-training who had suggested the idea in the first place, came up with a suggestion... "Sire, maybe we have looked in the wrong places." The high God was baffled and asked him to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sire, why look for two different girls for both of them when they can be with each other."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The High God was extremely happy with this idea and ordered that it shall be carried out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then by a twist of fate, one of the princesses landed up in the other one's kingdom for educational purposes. But this in itself wasn't  enough. The Gods could help the situation only so much, the rest of the path had to be decided upon by the young princesses themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took more than six months for them to acknowledge each other. But even after they became bosom friends, something was amiss. There were disagreements, violent ones, even though it was always sorted out later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then once, there was a disagreement so huge, that the princesses turned away from each other, thinking this was the end of the friendship for good, and went separate ways to pursue separate destinies, telling the world that they didn't care, but forever carrying the memories within them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year passed by. The Gods were growing worried now, because one of the princesses was going through more than she could handle, her world was collapsing. They tried sending replacements for her lost friend, to help ease her pain. But they soon found out that the princess's heart had grown a wall of ice, and no matter how hard they tried, the ice would not melt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While all the elder Gods were deep in worry, the young to be God looked down upon them and smiled, "My daughters, I know I haven't made a wrong decision, the two of you will rediscover each other, but only after you've discovered yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after a year, something good and something bad happened at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the other princess had realized that she needed to go back to her friend, for none of them was happy without the other. But she wasn't sure how, she was unsure and scared. But one day the messenger doves came and told her that the dreaded thing had happened, her friend's world had collapsed at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She needed no other reason, she set out at once, for she knew that she had to be there for her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she entered the thunder struck palace of her friend and looked at her, nothing more was needed. No words, no apologies, no explanations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They stood on the threshold, embracing each other, drowning themselves in joy and in sorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up above, the Gods rejoiced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first there was some trepidation, for they weren't sure if things would be the same again, they weren't sure if the princess whose heart was enclosed in ice could or would love again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as the days went by, drowned in happiness, friendship and in love... the ice melted. And though this meant she would once again be vulnerable and open to pain, she thanked God that at last she could feel, and that she had her friend, the other half back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S-w2WFMJArI/AAAAAAAAADM/SAO1K6I9fqM/s1600/019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S-w2WFMJArI/AAAAAAAAADM/SAO1K6I9fqM/s320/019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470807400326431410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6636491704949846466?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6636491704949846466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/fairytale.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6636491704949846466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6636491704949846466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/fairytale.html' title='A Fairytale Friendship...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S-w2WFMJArI/AAAAAAAAADM/SAO1K6I9fqM/s72-c/019.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-978495589930788793</id><published>2010-05-10T03:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T04:07:20.817-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>All the things that are wrong with me...</title><content type='html'>I have a severe headache....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to study Bob Dylan... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at the same time I feel guilty for not studying...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel tired but I cant sleep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to cry but the tears wont come...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to throw things around my room, scream... yell... But somehow none of those wants actually break through the unnaturally calm surface...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to crib to someone... real bad... but I feel terrible about burdening anyone with my problems...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be angry, impulsive... but I am hurt and patient( and nothing alters it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to lose weight... but that never happens... Lucky are the people who slim down due to depression... never happened for me... I actually put on a kilo!! Dang it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to starve myself... but I cant coz then I'll have gastric pain and that is not such a good idea... firstly coz I am as scared of it as I am of arachnids and coz I have a semester examination in a week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to overdose on spaz and escape this prison for a while... but my morals do not allow that... And I am sure nor would mommy 1 and 2 and bff in bangalore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to get tipsy on wine... just that warm, snugly, happy feeling... but my mom wont allow alcohol in the house( WINE ISN'T EVEN ALCOHOL FOR CHRIST"S SAKE!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be NOT AFFECTED by all this.... But that's not happening anytime soon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... Now that you all know what a crybaby I am... I shall go back to Dylan( I WONT TAKE IN A WORD!!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Minu... you're following my blog!!! Yay!!! =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-978495589930788793?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/978495589930788793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/all-things-that-are-wrong-with-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/978495589930788793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/978495589930788793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/all-things-that-are-wrong-with-me.html' title='All the things that are wrong with me...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1630970864134880403</id><published>2010-05-10T03:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T03:51:40.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fractalroad.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/prisoner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://fractalroad.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/prisoner.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How far can you run...&lt;br /&gt;If the prison in within you??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1630970864134880403?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1630970864134880403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-far-can-you-run.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1630970864134880403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1630970864134880403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-far-can-you-run.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2216662818775651011</id><published>2010-05-09T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T08:46:50.550-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'>Nightmare??</title><content type='html'>Every waking minute of my life, I mutter a silent prayer asking that I wake up, and all of this just turns out to be a nightmare!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But whom am I kidding? Nightmares don't last this long.... do they? HAHAHAHA =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2216662818775651011?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2216662818775651011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/nightmare.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2216662818775651011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2216662818775651011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/nightmare.html' title='Nightmare??'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1593414869879111616</id><published>2010-05-03T00:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T00:24:04.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazing revelations....</title><content type='html'>I was going through my inbox today because I have over 2000 messages in it and my phone starts misbehaving whenever the number of messages crosses 2000. And then I came across these messages from you which actually said things like... I miss you... Awwlleee I love you! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems a little impossible now, eh? Considering you acknowledge me as much as you would acknowledge air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... should get back to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Untouchable&lt;/span&gt;... no matter how boring it is...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1593414869879111616?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1593414869879111616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/amazing-revelations.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1593414869879111616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1593414869879111616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/amazing-revelations.html' title='Amazing revelations....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3242819416449415291</id><published>2010-05-02T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T13:05:11.252-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anxiety attack induced thoughts....'/><title type='text'>My lifelines....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93auqtQRWI/AAAAAAAAADE/QiMG0rL6Xlc/s1600/035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93auqtQRWI/AAAAAAAAADE/QiMG0rL6Xlc/s200/035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466766017970586978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93auHYdEbI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FTeJ07bYEhg/s1600/003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93auHYdEbI/AAAAAAAAAC8/FTeJ07bYEhg/s200/003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466766008488104370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93atU21GsI/AAAAAAAAAC0/1SLI5EKCENg/s1600/078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93atU21GsI/AAAAAAAAAC0/1SLI5EKCENg/s200/078.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466765994925300418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading the second book of The House of Night series today, its called Betrayed. A few minutes ago I read the part where the protagonist, Zoey's best friend Stevie Ray Johnson dies in her arms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still cant stop crying... and even a cup of very strong black coffee cant calm me down right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aphrodite, Minu, Rudrani.... I'd die if anything ever happened to any of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll live with the walls, the fights, the distance... as long as all three of you are fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3242819416449415291?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3242819416449415291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-lifelines.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3242819416449415291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3242819416449415291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-lifelines.html' title='My lifelines....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S93auqtQRWI/AAAAAAAAADE/QiMG0rL6Xlc/s72-c/035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8106768600792525029</id><published>2010-04-26T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T10:29:46.634-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain induced thoughts.'/><title type='text'>My Rain Person...</title><content type='html'>If you were to ask me as to what the rain means to me, I'd probably not be able to give you an answer. Because the emotions that rain or a storm evokes in me is not something I can put down in words, it can only be felt. But I could tell you of this other person to whom the rains mean the same thing. She could probably put it down in words for you, she's the best writer I have come across in a long long time. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today when it started raining the first thing I did was message her. 1 simple message which said... 'brishti porche!' followed by a smiley. There was a time when I could have been sure that the rains would remind her of me as well. But I don't know if I ought to still have that level of confidence. Maybe I am being delusional, maybe what meant so much to me did after all mean nothing to her. But then again there's this voice at the back of my mind which says its not possible. How long did we have together? 2 months max... but can the depth of friendship be measured by time alone? And if time is a criteria... then what of those numerous afternoons spent in ccd talking and ordering the same foodstuff day after day? what of those trips to dakhinapan and getting high on six rounds of slushee? the nights spent on gtalk talking about nothing in particular? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you've done so much in 2 months, it is a little difficult to just wake up one day and realize its not there any longer. The metaphorical hole that has developed in your heart wont fill itself in with logic such as 'its over. Get on with it.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You poured too much of you into my life. Sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror I see a clear reflection of you in myself there. You've affected a lot of things about me... do you realize? the way I dress... the chunky jewelery, the bangles. Half the stuff I wear these days was either bought by you or selected by you. You ask me to forget that you exist... but what do I do with these pieces of you that you left behind?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of this as another nyaka post if you must. But the simple truth is that I miss you and I miss being the person I used to be when I was with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll wait, till you either turn around... or walk away. You see, I keep my promises, it wont ever be me who walked away(as if I could even if i tried!). Bleh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must go take a bath now. Term paper due on friday!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8106768600792525029?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8106768600792525029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-rain-person.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8106768600792525029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8106768600792525029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-rain-person.html' title='My Rain Person...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-7783151527037758406</id><published>2010-04-23T08:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T09:16:40.554-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reflections.'/><title type='text'>Multiple Personality Disorder</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://artfiles.art.com/5/p/LRG/16/1650/7GZGD00Z/laura-monahan-little-girl-with-pray-rock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 362px; height: 450px;" src="http://artfiles.art.com/5/p/LRG/16/1650/7GZGD00Z/laura-monahan-little-girl-with-pray-rock.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like the last 2 or 3 days I didn't exist. Dipabali didn't exist. I felt like I was having an out of body experience, I could actually see myself from a distant view,  like I was looking in on someone Else's life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my head, went bonkers, did things Dipabali would never do. But then last night I had this epiphanic moment when I realized this isn't me. I don't give up, I don't not acknowledge people just because we're having a rough patch, I don't lose hope, I don't vent my anger, I don't try alternate ways of dealing with pain, I don't think negative. I'm the kind who believes that faith can move mountains, love can wash away hate, people DO come back. I'm the kind who finds a positive aspect in every negative situation. I'm the kind who waits but never loses hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today morning I went back to being me. I faced the mess of my life instead of running away from it. I smiled without the expectation that I would get one back. I looked with love despite the facade of hate that stared back at me. I made conversation, even if I received monosyllabic replies most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I realized over the last 2 days is that rebelling against the way I'm made is probably the worst thing I can do to myself. I maybe soft, vulnerable, petrified and emotionally driven, but somewhere deep down I like myself for those qualities. I dont want to be a person who dosent care, who would go to any heights to ease the pain, who would lose all hope, who would fill her insides up with so much bitterness that she'd forget how to love. And I was doing exactly that till yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I love easy, yes I dig pits for myself, yes I get irrationally attached to certain people, yes I sometimes invite pain. But would you like me if I was any different? I know I wouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love myself, with all my flaws. And I know I'll take a little time to forgive myself for the debacle of the last 2 days, but I eventually will. And all those people whom I hold dear( you know who you are! dont make me take names!), I hope you do too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, It's good to be back. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-7783151527037758406?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/7783151527037758406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/multiple-personality-disorder.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7783151527037758406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7783151527037758406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/multiple-personality-disorder.html' title='Multiple Personality Disorder'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6986872577329245037</id><published>2010-04-15T01:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T01:19:42.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yes Ma... its all my fault! Can I GO DIE in peace now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6986872577329245037?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6986872577329245037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/yes-ma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6986872577329245037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6986872577329245037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/yes-ma.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5341361826002951629</id><published>2010-04-14T12:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T12:31:16.595-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demented thoughts'/><title type='text'>I found a way out!!</title><content type='html'>I found a way out of this... Dunno if this was such a good idea... But I don't think anyone will find it! I feel lighter now! yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5341361826002951629?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5341361826002951629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-found-way-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5341361826002951629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5341361826002951629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-found-way-out.html' title='I found a way out!!'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3822982538236301257</id><published>2010-04-12T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T09:11:37.473-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'>The other voice....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Haven't you had enough...&lt;br /&gt;Within and without?&lt;br /&gt;Come to me now&lt;br /&gt;let me take over&lt;br /&gt;indulge a little&lt;br /&gt;you deserve this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the wild laughter loose,&lt;br /&gt;the nails dig in,&lt;br /&gt;the red flow,&lt;br /&gt;the flesh tear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels nice doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;to listen to me&lt;br /&gt;and let that sane, reasoning voice die?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But was it my fault?&lt;br /&gt;IS it my fault?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;It doesn't matter anymore...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this right?&lt;br /&gt;Its late...&lt;br /&gt;I should go now,&lt;br /&gt;they're worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;NO!&lt;br /&gt;Stay...&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter&lt;br /&gt;not tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel the cool night breeze,&lt;br /&gt;watch the empty streets...&lt;br /&gt;Its not that late after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignore the calls,&lt;br /&gt;let the pain sink in&lt;br /&gt;stay awhile&lt;br /&gt;you've decided to give in after so long...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3822982538236301257?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3822982538236301257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/other-voice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3822982538236301257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3822982538236301257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/other-voice.html' title='The other voice....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-635259195086433267</id><published>2010-04-08T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T12:13:56.121-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>There is a hole...</title><content type='html'>There is a hole&lt;br /&gt;that is growing&lt;br /&gt;that is bleeding&lt;br /&gt;and it wont stop&lt;br /&gt;till my heart bleeds to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe then&lt;br /&gt;the pain will stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-635259195086433267?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/635259195086433267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/there-is-hole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/635259195086433267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/635259195086433267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/there-is-hole.html' title='There is a hole...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3138301933282131430</id><published>2010-04-07T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T20:58:18.994-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>These violent delights have violent ends...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk250/dilluzionz/cold_black_heart.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 360px;" src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk250/dilluzionz/cold_black_heart.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WRONG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there is no death,&lt;br /&gt; there's just an abyss of dark pain.&lt;br /&gt; It flows through your veins like poison and turns you black from the inside.&lt;br /&gt; And the heart,&lt;br /&gt; which is already black from remembering,&lt;br /&gt; from hoping, from loving, from losing...&lt;br /&gt; starts spilling black blood onto your insides.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;drip drip drip&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The poison isnt restricted to your veins anymore.&lt;br /&gt; Its spreading throughout your body,&lt;br /&gt; its in your organs,&lt;br /&gt; in your eyes,&lt;br /&gt; in your throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Its oozing out from every pore in your body,&lt;br /&gt; but no one can see it,&lt;br /&gt; no one can feel it,&lt;br /&gt; apart from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; You alone are cursed with the pain,&lt;br /&gt; because you have dared to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3138301933282131430?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3138301933282131430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/these-violent-delights-have-violent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3138301933282131430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3138301933282131430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/these-violent-delights-have-violent.html' title='These violent delights have violent ends...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8033338571833048815</id><published>2010-04-07T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T10:12:03.202-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes there are days&lt;br /&gt;rather nights&lt;br /&gt;when the ipod isnt loud enough&lt;br /&gt;to drown the voices screaming in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes&lt;br /&gt;no matter how fast I walk&lt;br /&gt;the shadows of my thoughts &lt;br /&gt;wont leave me alone.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There is something in there&lt;br /&gt;that is already sinking&lt;br /&gt;it wont stay afloat for long&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew what it was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8033338571833048815?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8033338571833048815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/sometimes-there-are-days-rather-nights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8033338571833048815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8033338571833048815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/sometimes-there-are-days-rather-nights.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8978129299930346041</id><published>2010-04-05T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T11:01:23.453-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>Happy Day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7okUnJT4yI/AAAAAAAAABM/itDrbe_XDhg/s1600/015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7okUnJT4yI/AAAAAAAAABM/itDrbe_XDhg/s320/015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456713835036795682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the day began I was thoroughly depressed. Last night's thoughts had still not left me, the crying bout had ended but the emotions, the thoughts... had remained. I had just had 2 hours of sleep last night. I cant remember the last time the insomnia business was this bad. To add to all of this, I was having a bad hair day. (How much worse can things get?). So when I dragged my feet to the bathroom in order to have a bath and then get ready for college, I wasn't feeling right inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As usual I was the first... oh no wait... second in class. I think Piyali was already there. I met Anwesha on the way, accompanied her to her department, came back and then sat reading in the classroom. Somehow even reading couldn't distract me much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day progressed, Sreejata and I made a trip to south city, this cheered me up a little, but IND and LATOA papers were waiting! Why on Earth am I stuck with a 5.5? why? What is wrong with me? Are my brains flying away bit by bit or did I get into JUDE by mistake?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that was the end of the bad part. A.Lal reminded me that I had to talk to him regarding my topic while giving me my paper. So later that afternoon I returned to his office to try my luck once again and prayed to God that I wouldn't blank out like last time. But what wonders! Either Bhagwan ne meri sunli or he must have been in a bad mood the last time I visited him. HE APPROVED OF MY TOPIC! YAY! Memoirs of a Geisha... here I come! I came out of his office with this wide smile! Rudrani says I overreact... but what the heck? I was happy after a very depressing night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had one and a half hour to spare, a ccd wouldn't have been possible... so we did a slushy! There is something about going to Dakhinapan and having slushy that makes me really happy! We took an auto to the place, while mango and orange ice lollies happily dribbled down our sweaty palms. I believe Rudrani even got a brainfreeze! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the jewelery thingy. She bought me a pair of earrings and herself a necklace, all the while complaining that I have turned her into a girl who loves shopping :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this came the slushy business. Someone had said... aami chota slushee khaabo!... but we had only 3te.. but the point being that it still adds up to 6! And paratha and omlette along with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time we were thoroughly filled, so we decided to walk back to campus, but wait... it dosent end here! Bahar betha tha beguni man! We bought duto gorom gorom beguni and happily gorged on it while walking back to campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debating society was interesting as always, especially because it was Sushant Bhaiya's farewell today and he treated us to ice cream!(double scoop).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tarpor came the rickshaw ride. Two golgal people in a rickshaw. Yes we do pity the rickshaw wala... but we have too much fun during the ride to give it up! And henceforth we have decided that Monday shall be the rickshaw ride and Volvo day for us. Conversation... some deep and some that made us laugh! All the while both of us were balanced half on the seat and half on the handle, but who cares? Its pretty comfortable actually... feels like sitting next to a teddy bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she walked home and I boarded the Volvo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was smiling throughout the ride today. I felt happy. I felt content. Its amazing how a day can start out in such an awful manner and end with happiness. Sometimes the littlest things in life are all you need to experience undiluted joy. A good friend, mad times, hours of meaningful and meaningless conversation, a few bumpy rides, kacha aam! That's all I need to be happy. :) I know I'm being a little selfish... but I need this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I cant help it is this is a nyaka post according to you! Bleh! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8978129299930346041?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8978129299930346041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8978129299930346041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8978129299930346041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-day.html' title='Happy Day.'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7okUnJT4yI/AAAAAAAAABM/itDrbe_XDhg/s72-c/015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-7524069281859778688</id><published>2010-04-01T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T12:05:14.051-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>Mina Kumari's Birthday....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7TuIMhdgXI/AAAAAAAAABE/vNtBScR4YYo/s1600/008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7TuIMhdgXI/AAAAAAAAABE/vNtBScR4YYo/s200/008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455246873220448626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mina Kumari's&lt;/span&gt; birthday today.&lt;br /&gt;That makes me happy! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-7524069281859778688?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/7524069281859778688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/mina-kumaris-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7524069281859778688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7524069281859778688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/mina-kumaris-birthday.html' title='Mina Kumari&apos;s Birthday....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S7TuIMhdgXI/AAAAAAAAABE/vNtBScR4YYo/s72-c/008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-4851122727519009318</id><published>2010-04-01T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T10:58:28.973-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'>AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>So a few days ago someone really close to me said... 'You're ugly! Go die!'... I brushed it off then. I retorted... No I'm not... in a very defiant voice. I thought my denial would be the end of the matter. But clearly, it affected me much more than I thought. I know what you'll say... that you shout at people when you're angry and say things that you don't mean, but that doesn't work as reason enough to stop myself from feeling this way. I didn't write about this for the longest time, even though it would have helped, it would have let me get it out of my system and not torture me every once in a while like poison running through my veins. But I didn't, thinking that you would see this. But I have decided I don't care. Fine, I get it you were angry, but does your anger give you the right to say something this demeaning to someone? Does your anger give you the right to HURT me? You didn't care as to what you were saying... so why should I care as to whether you will read this or not? I DON'T! And now that I have this out of my system, what you said wont bother me any longer too. Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-4851122727519009318?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/4851122727519009318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/aaaaahhhhhhhhh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4851122727519009318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4851122727519009318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/04/aaaaahhhhhhhhh.html' title='AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3804382514268068121</id><published>2010-03-31T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T09:50:31.597-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ranting under depression.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My heart isnt made of wood you know.... on the contrary... you could say it is made of glass....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3804382514268068121?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3804382514268068121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-heart-isnt-made-of-wood-you-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3804382514268068121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3804382514268068121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-heart-isnt-made-of-wood-you-know.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3556499486300910463</id><published>2010-03-27T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T12:08:40.950-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RAIN.HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>And it finally rained... =D</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S64tZdhcyuI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ea8Q_HDB8DI/s1600/670.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S64tZdhcyuI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ea8Q_HDB8DI/s400/670.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453346114237156066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black is a very lucky color for me! I got my lines right, not one glance at the script! Needless to say that rehearsal was fabulous! Really satisfying run through... Think we're going to do a good job! Lets see... And then... while I was coming back home on the S9... it started raining! I was so happy I could have danced! Nothing on Earth compares to the feeling of getting drenched in the first shower of the season! the cold drops sending shivers up your arms and the wind making you curl into a ball in the auto and clutch your soaking kurti! And to add to it the ipod playing something as perfect as &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;kissing in the rain&lt;/span&gt; by Tori Amos. If only there was someone waiting at the end of the road to embrace my cold and wet form, it would have been picture perfect! But that's okay... =D I was as happy as a child today! The rain... the night.. the feeling! Just too much! And I knew that at the other end of the city, there would be one more pagli feeling the same way about the rain as I was feeling... and then I come home and figure out she had written about the first rain of the season in her blog exactly a year ago... how awesomely freaky is that? =D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so taken up by the whole mood that I missed my lane and the rickshaw man had to make his way back... I was that lost! and the ipod kept playing one perfect song after the other! &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bonfires... almost lover... saathiya...&lt;/span&gt;etc. I was lost in a different world, a world where dreams come true. That's what the rains do to me. It makes me believe, it makes me hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then when I get home looking like I've just climbed out of a swimming pool... my mother looks at me and says, 'bheejle?'... and I say 'yes' with a smile she hasnt seen on my face for quite some time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my time of the year again, gray skies, full luscious clouds bursting with water, thunder, wind, memories, smiles, unfulfilled desires, yearning hearts. Yes... I love the rains... =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3556499486300910463?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3556499486300910463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/black-is-very-lucky-color-for-me-i-got.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3556499486300910463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3556499486300910463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/black-is-very-lucky-color-for-me-i-got.html' title='And it finally rained... =D'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S64tZdhcyuI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ea8Q_HDB8DI/s72-c/670.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-7112655076197190728</id><published>2010-03-26T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T09:22:57.606-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FRIENDSHIP. HAPPINESS.'/><title type='text'>I am content tonight... =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S60QbmvRteI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pVm-MMC6f80/s1600/026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S60QbmvRteI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pVm-MMC6f80/s400/026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453032790256891362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Ei tui kal kokhon University pouchobi?' or variations of the same sentence can cause a LOT of happiness! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As predicted last night, today was a very happy day! Even before the bus came to a stop, I noticed this person standing there in a formal shirt and half pants and thoroughly disheveled hair and broke into a very wide smile. :) This was followed by mad conversation for 3 hours and forty five minutes in ccd. I am sure they got thoroughly tired of us, and we thank our lucky stars that they didn't throw us out! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there was ever a day of undiluted happiness, this was it. I thought this would be a very long blog, but I feel so content at the moment that I don't feel like writing anymore about it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is one of the most beautiful things that exist... I hope all of you agree with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-7112655076197190728?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/7112655076197190728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/ei-tui-kal-kokhon-university-pouchobi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7112655076197190728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7112655076197190728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/ei-tui-kal-kokhon-university-pouchobi.html' title='I am content tonight... =)'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S60QbmvRteI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pVm-MMC6f80/s72-c/026.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8372595009019381511</id><published>2010-03-25T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T12:28:48.648-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='midnight snacks. Happniess.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have recently noticed two changes in me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I am addicted to my blog.(proven by the fact that I'm sitting at 2 in the night and writing this for no apparent reason!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I now have a monster appetite! Now this is scary, I have forever dealt with losing my appetite. This is the first time when I'm eating more than I used to! Sreejata says it's good, because I'm finally eating right quantities, but what if I put on more weight? I think I should read &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Peony in Love&lt;/span&gt; again! Then I'll survive on juice for some time! I happily ignored the flask of milk and the dabba of protein shake that was sitting at the dining table today and had ekta baashi ruti with thanda cholar dal, and then followed that up with a glass of hot milk. I really like milk, I am part cat you see! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have lost it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'll finish my milk now and curl up in bed and read&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Untouchables.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, I think, will be a happy day! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8372595009019381511?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8372595009019381511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-have-recently-noticed-two-changes-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8372595009019381511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8372595009019381511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-have-recently-noticed-two-changes-in.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3022314981028598507</id><published>2010-03-24T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T12:57:44.284-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reflections.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I'm cracking, No wait... Actually I KNOW I'm cracking. Little things infuriate me. People get onto my nerves. And I'm running from my own thoughts. I think I'm going back to being that angry person who was affected by nothing from 1st semester. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that a good thing or a bad thing? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I will go read &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; After Dark&lt;/span&gt; by Haruki Murakami now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3022314981028598507?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3022314981028598507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-think-im-cracking-no-wait.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3022314981028598507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3022314981028598507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-think-im-cracking-no-wait.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-481185307213172436</id><published>2010-03-24T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T08:24:30.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just tell me one thing,&lt;br /&gt;Did I &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;EVER&lt;/span&gt; matter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-481185307213172436?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/481185307213172436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/just-tell-me-one-thing-did-i-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/481185307213172436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/481185307213172436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/just-tell-me-one-thing-did-i-ever.html' title=''/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-103617571088236384</id><published>2010-03-23T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T12:30:04.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wall problems.'/><title type='text'>The theory of devastation....(This was written last week btw)...</title><content type='html'>This had to happen&lt;br /&gt;It was expected&lt;br /&gt;The day I placed my brittle heart in your hands&lt;br /&gt;I knew that one day&lt;br /&gt;you would close your fist...&lt;br /&gt;and when you would open it again&lt;br /&gt;the ruby red pieces would fall to the floor&lt;br /&gt;and shatter some more&lt;br /&gt;and you would walk away&lt;br /&gt;even if your heart was breaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not your fault&lt;br /&gt;you had already warned me&lt;br /&gt;but I had promised never to leave&lt;br /&gt;I had promised to always come back&lt;br /&gt;even if you pushed me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there..&lt;br /&gt;walk away&lt;br /&gt;I'll wait&lt;br /&gt;for you to come back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you will!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-103617571088236384?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/103617571088236384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/theory-of-devastationthis-was-written.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/103617571088236384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/103617571088236384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/theory-of-devastationthis-was-written.html' title='The theory of devastation....(This was written last week btw)...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5138961620273565536</id><published>2010-03-20T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T12:27:05.391-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression.'/><title type='text'>Blabberings of a terribly frustrated mind...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S6TsHo6rfCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/fyZo-ki5lQA/s1600-h/004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S6TsHo6rfCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/fyZo-ki5lQA/s400/004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450741065011919906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel...&lt;br /&gt;Hurt&lt;br /&gt;Humiliated&lt;br /&gt;Scorned at&lt;br /&gt;Pushed away&lt;br /&gt;Helpless&lt;br /&gt;Angry&lt;br /&gt;Unloved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could scream it all out like Masumi Makhija did in 'Maqbool' but I cant. The next level of depression for me is deadly calm. So no smashing objects, no screaming, just less talking, anxiety attacks and making animal sounds in an attempt to cry. If you dont want to read all this you can just leave the page, recently I have heard that my blog is a little hard to handle, well that's your problem, DEAL WITH IT! I need to blabber here at least, because I think I'm going back to the mode where I cant blabber to people any longer, so all this has to come out SOMEWHERE! And I prefer the blog to angry red marks, they maybe liberating but I refuse to go down in a self destructive vortex, thank you! Sometimes I wish the blog was a person, then even I would have someone to whom I could have talked about everything that is wrong, someone who would keep taking it as opposed to me taking it from people all the time! Someone I could walk away from and not the other way round! But whom am I kidding? The thing is.... I cant walk away, not even from an inanimate object! Yes, that is sad... But that is me! I cant help who I am! I'm the kind who thinks everything is her fault, I'm the kind who will never confront! I'm the kind  whose rebellion will die down inside and never leave the lips! I'm the kind who would try to hold a friendship together till the last moment and not let things like ego come in between! I'm the kind who will forgive you know matter how much you have HURT me! Yes... its a rather painful life if you are made like that. You can change your exterior as much as you like, but you can never change the way you are from inside. All I can do for self defense is keep myself super busy so that I wont have time to think. And sometimes when it gets too much I start living in this bubble where nothing penetrates, but that never lasts long! Something happens, someone comes along, and BOOM! there goes your bubble! Then a short period of bliss, mad laughter, deep conversations, a happy heart, a beautiful friendship, a peaceful soul.... but for how long? For every smile there are tears*10... for every moment that your heart soars there are ages of when it will feel smashed to a million pieces... for every sentence that makes you feel loved there will be ten waiting that will make you feel humiliated. But how long does this go on? How long does a person keep taking it and not crack? Every time a person comes along who makes you feel as if for once you are understood, but in the end they break you worse than the last person did. But its all my fault, no one promised me anything, instead... I made the promises, so I have no right to complain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will always be me who will be left behind with a broken heart and tears while others walk away. FINE! I accept it. I cant fight anymore! I QUIT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5138961620273565536?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5138961620273565536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/blabberings-of-terribly-frustrated-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5138961620273565536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5138961620273565536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/blabberings-of-terribly-frustrated-mind.html' title='Blabberings of a terribly frustrated mind...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S6TsHo6rfCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/fyZo-ki5lQA/s72-c/004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2377891414475169915</id><published>2010-03-13T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T13:57:58.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random poetry... iccha korlo bole</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wKQHh7SWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UQJd_5qUwBo/s1600-h/665.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wKQHh7SWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UQJd_5qUwBo/s320/665.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448240921226987874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is not the absence of pain&lt;br /&gt;it is when amidst all the heartbreak&lt;br /&gt;you manage to find a reason to smile.&lt;br /&gt;It is when a person who is so scared to let her walls down&lt;br /&gt;holds your hand in a moment of forgetfulness.&lt;br /&gt;it is when little things like silver dangly earrings make you feel beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;It is when you cant stop laughing&lt;br /&gt;over plastic glasses of green mango slush.&lt;br /&gt;It is when you realize that somewhere down the line&lt;br /&gt;your efforts are making a difference.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is not the result of a group of people around you&lt;br /&gt;it is the feeling you get when after everyone has left&lt;br /&gt;someone stays behind&lt;br /&gt;for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2377891414475169915?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2377891414475169915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/random-poetry-iccha-korlo-bole.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2377891414475169915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2377891414475169915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/random-poetry-iccha-korlo-bole.html' title='Random poetry... iccha korlo bole'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wKQHh7SWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UQJd_5qUwBo/s72-c/665.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-526973426313843581</id><published>2010-03-10T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T08:56:42.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little things make me happy, little things break me too....</title><content type='html'>There are people in this world who should not love, I am one of them. Because I love easy, and break easier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was escaping specifically this feeling all this time. Yes, I was in my own bubble, yes I wasnt realistic, but I was happy. Everyone has their own methods, mine is escapism. But its amazing how one sentence can suddenly shatter your dream. Come to think of it, it dosent even form a proper link. But I cant help it, I cant control psychological glitches that go on inside my brain. It takes very little to make me happy. Our friendship made me happy. The freedom to be able to tell u how I feel made me happy. Your understanding made me happy. But one tiny thing and everything changed. In the beginning I was running from you, but after we talked last night I thought I'd be able to be normal again. But I was wrong. I ran again today. Dont blame yourself though, I dont blame you, but neither do I blame myself. I am a very sensitive person and I cant help that. I couldnt face you today, I dont know why. No, I'm not ashamed or embarrassed about how I feel, I dont care if people know. But there was something about the naked words glaring back at me from the monitor. There was something about the way I felt scorned at. I broke. That sentence broke me. But I thought once we'd talked it out it would be okay. But today when I saw you in front of my department I realized that its never going to be the same again. I'll never be able to even look at you properly. Maybe outside but definitely not on campus. Maybe when you're alone but never when you're with somebody. Which is perhaps equal to once in a blue moon! So there, no possessiveness issues anymore, because I'll always keep running, I'll always head in the other direction. It dosent matter that the sentence is there no longer, the effect it had on me remains, the tears still keep pooling in my chest and sometimes even overflow. I hate this feeling! I hate myself! But I cant do anything about it. All I can do is write  stupid blogs! I know this is unfair on you, and there might even be a remote possibility that you'll miss our regular interaction, I know I will, and I wish it didnt have to be this way, but I cant help what happened, nor can you. I guess I'll just have to wait for mondays from now on, that too if you turn up. But its ok, I'll survive, I have lots of practice in dealing with pain, its the most common emotion after all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I heard you follow my blog(yes this means you), I hope you read this one, should make you really happy! :) He's all yours now, which is ironical because he was always yours anyway!... but you still had a problem, now its done for....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-526973426313843581?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/526973426313843581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/there-are-people-in-this-world-who.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/526973426313843581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/526973426313843581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/03/there-are-people-in-this-world-who.html' title='Little things make me happy, little things break me too....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-445287322501475362</id><published>2010-02-26T08:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T09:13:07.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel like a monster.....</title><content type='html'>Two weeks ago I made a new friend. She's really pretty, has adorable curly hair and turns pink during certain discussions! We have a lot in common, hair.. firgure.. our eets! so we really connected. The past two weeks have been blissful, the mad conversations at the gol table, the stalking business and the eet blabbering! And then day before yesterday both of us were online at this unearthly hour, and she started talking to me, she was so happy about something that had happened! and I was happy for her. We made this entire plan for the next day, she said we'd miss classes and do a picnic at the gol table with a sataranchi! I happily agreed! The next morning when I went to class, she ran out and gave me a big hug, but then our teacher walked in and we left the classroom hurriedly, but when I turned around, I realized she wasn't there. I felt really angry, coz I thought she was deliberately attending class after all our planning! I sent her an angry sms, and then when she came and stood in front of me during next class, I behaved rather badly with her. Then after class got over, she left, without telling anyone anything. She went into the loo but I couldnt see her after tht. I turned up in the a.v room at 3:45 to listen to 'Quadrophenia', she wasn't there. I asked ppl if she'd come in for e.d and they said she didnt. Thts when the first twang of ill feeling and guilt set in. I masked it somehow for the length of the evening while I was hanging out with other ppl, but when I got onto the bus and was alone, the feeling came back with double force. I called up two friends to see if we could hang out, coz I didnt want to go back home, but they weren't free.. So ultimately I had to go home. I was in a terrible mood, I wanted to call her, but felt scared, so I called another friend and cried to him instead. He too told me I should call her, and so I did. She answered my call( which I didnt think she would), and we spoke. Things I got to know during the conversation: She hadnt deliberately attended class, its just tht she had gone to get her bag and couldnt walk out because the teacher was right in front of her. She hadnt left college, she was crying in the loo for half an hour. She was really upset after she got home, she threw up, didnt eat and hurt herself some more... ALL BECAUSE I HAD HURT HER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I messed up, big time. Even though we patched up, and had a perfectly cool day together today, there's this voice in the back of my head which keeps saying, 'You hurt someone who loves you so much.. She hurt herself so much because of you.. You're a monster... A terrible human being'. She's probably forgiven me, but problem is... I cant forgive myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're reading this... this is why I started crying today. I'm so sorry... Love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-445287322501475362?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/445287322501475362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-feel-like-monster.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/445287322501475362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/445287322501475362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-feel-like-monster.html' title='I feel like a monster.....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8350726735466637561</id><published>2010-02-23T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T14:01:57.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In reaction to Mina Kumari's recent album:once upon a time there was a tavern</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wLShUtkRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5-mmxRjlE-o/s1600-h/676.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wLShUtkRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5-mmxRjlE-o/s320/676.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448242062022250770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wLSNWghjI/AAAAAAAAAAU/SGnJIKzkAqE/s1600-h/680.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wLSNWghjI/AAAAAAAAAAU/SGnJIKzkAqE/s320/680.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448242056661075506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time flows incessantly&lt;br /&gt;seasons bleed into seasons&lt;br /&gt;people who were friends yesterday&lt;br /&gt;become strangers or worse&lt;br /&gt;enemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;memories that once brought laughter in its wake&lt;br /&gt;brings pain and tears&lt;br /&gt;and a fear&lt;br /&gt;of coming across known faces&lt;br /&gt;from the past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing returns&lt;br /&gt;nothing remains&lt;br /&gt;except those two smiling faces&lt;br /&gt;so happy in each others company&lt;br /&gt;even today&lt;br /&gt;after so many heartbreaks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing returns&lt;br /&gt;nothing remains&lt;br /&gt;except our friendship....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8350726735466637561?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8350726735466637561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-reaction-to-mina-kumaris-recent.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8350726735466637561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8350726735466637561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-reaction-to-mina-kumaris-recent.html' title='In reaction to Mina Kumari&apos;s recent album:once upon a time there was a tavern'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S5wLShUtkRI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5-mmxRjlE-o/s72-c/676.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-5410280564483543354</id><published>2010-02-15T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T13:13:00.845-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Blog! Yay! :)</title><content type='html'>So I am a very materialistic person, your average capitalist teenager to whom money=security, but at the end of the day its the little things in life that make me happy, like a sudden message from you at 11 in the night asking how I am or a walk to the metro with you by my side :) Its a little unfair actually, the amount of power you have over me! One message from you is enough to make me smile for the next 24 hours at least! Do you know I bumped into a rickshaw today outside Belgachia Metro because I was lost in my thoughts and smiling to myself? This is insane! Honestly! but what the heck... it keeps me happy! My friends are worried about my condition, like seriously worried! Some of them are convincing me that its only a crush and I'll get over it and some people are thinking about who I will share all this madness with in my postgraduate time if I stay back at J.U and they go away. But I dont want to stay back, I want to go abroad for my postgraduate at least! =s... and even if I do stay, I know for a fact that you wont, in fact weren't you talking of going away during your undergraduate course itself? But no! I'm not going to think of all this, these are scary prospects, you leaving, me leaving, not good! I better just focus on the present right now, I'll deal with all the above mentioned things when the happen! Otherwise my happy happy mood will be replaced by 'brooding about future thingies mood', which is not good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     You know something? time just flies by when I'm with you! Its not fair! It all gets over too quickly! But then again... it might just be me being greedy.... cant help it! human nature I guess! There's always so much I think I'll tell you when  we're together, but I don't even get the time to tell you half the things when we do talk! I call you sometimes, but then somehow something will always happen mid conversation and you will go, and then we never finish the conversation we leave hanging in the air. But the concluding point being that you have the power to make me euphoric as well as depressed... which is not a good thing. If it was in my hands I wouldn't give you so much of a hold over me, but its not... so I guess I'll just have to deal with it. Like today for example, I am so happy that I'm sitting at 3 in the night and writing this blog even though I'm practically falling asleep writing this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Well... that was less of a blog entry and more of a one sided blabbering! But that's what my blog is all about, I write what I feel. So this is what I felt today, I know its probably my silliest blog ever, but its close to my heart! :) I'm sorry if the last blog made you feel bad... it wasn't meant to... I was just venting my frustration, that's it. Hope this one makes you happy! I definitely felt happy writing it! yay! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Thank you, for everything!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-5410280564483543354?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/5410280564483543354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-blog-yay.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5410280564483543354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/5410280564483543354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-blog-yay.html' title='Happy Blog! Yay! :)'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-838501023955065</id><published>2010-02-14T05:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T06:16:52.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The S9 story....</title><content type='html'>So if you're a J.Uite you definitely know what I mean, and if you're not, then I'm referring to the state bus which leaves from karunamoyee and takes you to 8b bus stand, and vice versa. Now there are many classifications when it comes to this bus, there's the goth one, the middle one and the new one. The S9 is a very important part of my life, its almost like a second home actually, because I spend 10 hours a week in it. So when I reach the depot and dont find my favorite kind of bus waiting, it really pisses me off! First of all there's the goth bus: the oldest of the S9 army, there are two kinds of this actually, the first one has horizontally sliding windows, smaller seats, a smaller passageway between the seats and a slightly narrower door frame with no door, it also has dim yellow lights and the front seats are often elevated. And the second one has larger seats, a wider door frame with no door, a broader passageway between the two seats and vertically sliding windows, the rest of the features are the same. I am the happiest when I manage to get onto one of these buses! The dark interiors in the morning that dont let in too much sunshine and the wind whipping against your face! Its just beautiful! If I'm with someone (mostly its either Disha or Mrinalini), we have loud conversations( rather scandalizing ones at that!) which makes heads turn! and if I'm alone I stuff my earphones into my ears, turn on my ipod, listen to demented romantic music and let my thoughts loose... They're not necessarily happy thoughts all the time, sometimes when I'm depressed I think of weird things!But mostly you'll find me sitting beside the window, looking out, with a shy smile and a dreamy expression. The perfect music and the perfect bus can do wonders for your morning mood... believe me! And when its evening and I'm returning home its even more brilliant! Its all dark and the seats are really tall, so its kinda a really private bus. After a tiring day if I'm with Minu we just cuddle upto each other and have gooey, critical and scandalizing conversations! Laugh a little, eat a little and then worry abt the amount of junk food we're eating! aahh... what a life! And if I'm alone I just dive into demented romantic music and my thoughts again! But then some-days I come to the depot and find the new ones or the semi new ones waiting.. and my heart sinks! the new ones have terribly large windows, so if you're travelling in the morning there is too much sunshine! and if you're traveling in the evening they put on those those horrible tube lights! and the semi new ones are like hybrids of the two! It disturbs your train of thought! provides no intimacy whatsoever if you're traveling with a friend! its just Blah! If we had to have new S9's why couldn't they be designed like the red volvos? they're so gorgeous! with the steps and everything! I know for a fact that there are ST6's which are designed like that! Then why not the S9's? :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-838501023955065?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/838501023955065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/s9-story.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/838501023955065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/838501023955065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/02/s9-story.html' title='The S9 story....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6938486392559882014</id><published>2010-01-05T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T13:36:30.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>So up until a few days ago I could still confidently say,"Nothing affects me anymore", but unfortunately I found something that does, and pretty badly at that too. If I look at the situation logically then I know precisely what to do, but the problem being that the heart is not a rational thing. I swear to God when someone coined the word 'tragedy', they must have thought of me! It never ends, the streams of mishaps! I mean fine! it might be 'character building' stuff! but there's a limit! I'm bloody only 19 years of age, and I feel like I've already had a lifetime's worth of things to deal with! Even things that initially keep you happy somehow or the other twist itself in a manner that in the end it becomes a source of pain. I'm sick and tires of feeling like I'm being stabbed with a pin constantly! I never asked too much of you, did I? Didnt we agree that we'd be normal? Didnt u say a string of things that night? Were they just words? can you make me feel good only over the phone? I dont say return my feelings, but at least be normal with me! I miss you, miss what we use to have. The wordplay, the informative conversations, the feeling of warmth whenever you were around. When did it end? and why did it have to end? The five minutes every Tuesday that used to be packed with conversation is suddenly filled with awkward silences and cold behavior. The warmth in your eyes, our friendship, its all gone, and yet you ask me why I'm pissed with you. I wish you'd understand that I'm not pissed, I just miss your company... miss your affection... miss the brainstorming. I know you asked me to tell you whenever the pain gets too much to handle, but how do I say something so big to a person with whom even small talks are hard to come by these days? You're the same towards everyone else, its only me who gets the aloof treatment. And I like a fool yearn to see you when you're not around, and end up crying the entire night when I do come across you. Tell me what to do? tell me how to kill my feelings? When I came across you after four years of what used to be, I was happy for I thought I'd finally found a man who understood, if not reciprocated. But I dont know why, it seems like the understanding lasted only that one night, or rather it lasts only over the phone, you have your way with words and you end up convincing me that things will be different now, but then when I come across you, its just the same....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6938486392559882014?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6938486392559882014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/01/why.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6938486392559882014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6938486392559882014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2010/01/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-4123952942860139799</id><published>2009-12-17T14:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T15:32:17.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts of an Insomniac....</title><content type='html'>So there was this time when I used to be a pretty sensitive character, I used to feel hurt when something bad happened with me or when things went downhill with a close friend, but sometime during last year I realized that I'd crossed my limit. So I got up one morning and told myself I wont suffer anymore, wont shed any more tears and wont let anything affect me. After that I just plunged headlong into work, put in extra effort for TOEFL, stayed back at Chopra's for entire days in order to attain perfection, in short I overworked myself so much that my friends feared it would affect my health. But work is like therapy for me really, its how I escape from all the unpleasant things. At that point of time I kept telling myself that nothing mattered more than UK, that I'd get into a good university and leave India and let all my bad experiences stay behind. It was my personal silver lining.I still remember how happy I was the day when school ended once and for all. Though at that point I was so numb that I was incapable of feeling anything. Everything was working fine for me. My TOEFL results were highly satisfactory, I'd got conditional acceptances from four top universities and I was working hard for ISC. But when has happiness ever lasted in my life? Just after exams got over we made this trip to Hyderabad, where I learned my dad was terminally ill. I still remember the way it was broken to me, my cousin told me this fact, and then immediately followed it with this lecture of how I had to think of everyone in such a situation and I couldnt be selfish and yada yada yada... which basically boiled down to the fact that he thought I should give UK up. Anybody who knows me, and I mean REALLY knows me would never have asked that of me. My tears that night were for dad and for UK. You think I'm selfish? well you're welcome to your own interpretations, but for me giving up on my most cherished childhood dream, that too after I had worked on it ever since class 9 wasn't that easy. I still say that if only the matter was handled differently, if only my family had only asked me if I was ready to give it up, and not forced its decision on me, I would have felt differently about it. I mean I knew that the expenses for dad's treatment would be too much for my mom to send me to UK, but if only they had asked me,"Are you ready to stay back and study here?" , instead of telling me,"There's nothing to do, start looking at Kolkata colleges", things would have been way more different. When my results were out it didnt even matter to me anymore, I had the perfect percentage, it was just what the universities had asked for, all I had to do was mail them a copy of my marksheet and I'd be given a place at Leeds, York, Edinburgh and Wales, but how did it matter anymore? The last date for submission of the marksheet went by, Leeds even called me asking why I hadn't emailed them yet, but with a heavy heart I had to let it all go. After that I went into this coma like state, I used to roam the entire city submitting college forms all day and then come and shut myself up in my room. I know what was expected out of me at that time, tears, lamentation for dad's condition etc etc, but all I could give was the numb reaction. Everyone pointed a finger at me, said I had a heart of stone, but did anyone realize that perhaps the heart had just had too much to bear and could not take it any longer? Everyone saw the lack of tears, but did anyone see the pain in those dry eyes? UK was not only a study destination for me, it was my escape from a lot of things, and when I lost that escape and realized I'll have to stay right here, with all the memories and the people( whom I was bumping into in every college), I just slipped into depression. Whenever the tears came I pushed them back down and told myself I'd indulge in the luxury of tears later, but I did this so much that there came a time when I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Crying is a rare phenomenon these days, once in a million nights there comes a night when I lose control, when I feel pain, when a few drops escape my eyes. So why am I writing all this now? when I've kept it inside me for so long? because tonight happens to be one of those nights...  I know I should be grateful that I'm studying in JUDE, and I am, its the best deal I could have got in Kolkata, but that does not mean that I dont miss what could have been, and it would have been a hundred times better! There are times when I feel stifled, frustrated. Its true that I got a lot of compensations for staying back, The debating society, Sreejata, the return of my 'lotus' and the 'Idiot Boy', but even then, in a corner of my heart, the embers from the dream that was UK still burns....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I really miss dad sometimes, though my relatives think I positively cant, but I dont regret anything. Because my dad and I, we were two very different individuals, and if given a second chance I know for a fact that nothing would have been different. He'd still be comparing me to my friends who took up commerce, we'd still be fighting over my choice of subjects for studying in UK( English and History),and I'd still be scolding him for his bad habits. But that does not mean that I didnt love him, I did, but in my own way, and when he went away, he left this big hole in my life that no one else can fill. I know writing this blog wont make my mom stop telling me that I was responsible for my father's death whenever we fight, but I really dont care. If he is watching over me today, then he knows the truth, he knows how I feel, and thats all that matters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-4123952942860139799?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/4123952942860139799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/thoughts-of-insomniac.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4123952942860139799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/4123952942860139799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/thoughts-of-insomniac.html' title='Thoughts of an Insomniac....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1833865466120131794</id><published>2009-12-07T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T12:53:34.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreamer</title><content type='html'>This poem is very special to me, I've been meaning to put this up for ages now. I composed this in class 9 for the poetry event in Chairos Quiro(Qms fest)under the time limit of an hour and it got me the bronze medal! Enjoy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may say that I'm a dreamer,&lt;br /&gt;but I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;You may say that I'm a thinker,&lt;br /&gt;but I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;Look around me and you will find-&lt;br /&gt;thousands of others&lt;br /&gt;all starry eyed,&lt;br /&gt;nurturing hopes and dreams in their minds,&lt;br /&gt;unaware and unaffected&lt;br /&gt;by the complexities of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say that I have no touch with reality,&lt;br /&gt;You say that I have lost my mind.&lt;br /&gt;But look around you, &lt;br /&gt;can't you see?&lt;br /&gt;so many, so alike?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say I'm not an earthly being, &lt;br /&gt;you say my mind flies high in the sky,&lt;br /&gt;In your eyes&lt;br /&gt;a prisoner am I,&lt;br /&gt;because I choose to dream, &lt;br /&gt;because I choose to let my spirit and mind fly,&lt;br /&gt;but why do I bear your glance alone?&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see the others cry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't you hear them crying out,&lt;br /&gt;Their voices filled with anguish and despair?&lt;br /&gt;They want to leave behind earthly boundaries,&lt;br /&gt;they want to dream,&lt;br /&gt;they want to dare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then why just point a finger at me?&lt;br /&gt;Why alone label me a dreamer?&lt;br /&gt;look around you&lt;br /&gt;there are thousands here&lt;br /&gt;who want to follow my lead.&lt;br /&gt;Are you blind?&lt;br /&gt;Can't you see them,&lt;br /&gt;the dreamers of the society?&lt;br /&gt;They are crying out today&lt;br /&gt;to tell you that I'm not alone,&lt;br /&gt;and the title of a dreamer&lt;br /&gt;by all of them shall be borne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may say that I'm a dreamer,&lt;br /&gt;but I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;You may say that I'm a thinker,&lt;br /&gt;but I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;Look around me and you will find-&lt;br /&gt;thousands of others&lt;br /&gt;all starry eyed,&lt;br /&gt;nurturing hopes and dreams in their minds,&lt;br /&gt;unaware and unaffected&lt;br /&gt;by the complexities of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1833865466120131794?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1833865466120131794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/dreamer.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1833865466120131794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1833865466120131794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/dreamer.html' title='Dreamer'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3476565009365216982</id><published>2009-12-03T12:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T12:59:27.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A few lines composed (suddenly!) while revising Emma...</title><content type='html'>Perhaps none of it was intentional,&lt;br /&gt;the talks&lt;br /&gt;the looks&lt;br /&gt;the laughing&lt;br /&gt;and the nudging,&lt;br /&gt;but the way it all fell into place&lt;br /&gt;coupled with the isolation,&lt;br /&gt;it just felt like&lt;br /&gt;it was meant to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No... it wasn't your fault&lt;br /&gt;and it certainly wasn't mine.&lt;br /&gt;Fate's conspiracy perhaps&lt;br /&gt;that threw us together&lt;br /&gt;to see what we would make out of it.&lt;br /&gt;One fell for the trap&lt;br /&gt;the other walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i wouldn't give this up for the world,&lt;br /&gt;the blushes&lt;br /&gt;the smiles&lt;br /&gt;the unconditional joy...&lt;br /&gt;the way I relate every single love song&lt;br /&gt;to that one memorable week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No... it wasn't your fault&lt;br /&gt;and it certainly wasn't mine,&lt;br /&gt;and maybe...&lt;br /&gt;we're not meant to have an end together,&lt;br /&gt;but for me&lt;br /&gt;the 'journey' mattered more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3476565009365216982?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3476565009365216982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/few-lines-composed-suddenly-while.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3476565009365216982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3476565009365216982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/few-lines-composed-suddenly-while.html' title='A few lines composed (suddenly!) while revising Emma...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-2303109300402684834</id><published>2009-12-03T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T12:35:43.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I simply love this song!</title><content type='html'>A thousand desires such as these&lt;br /&gt;A thousand moments to set this night on fire&lt;br /&gt;Reach out and you can touch them&lt;br /&gt;You can touch them with your silences&lt;br /&gt;You can reach them with your lust&lt;br /&gt;Rivers mountains rain&lt;br /&gt;Rain against a torrid hill’s cape&lt;br /&gt;A thousand&lt;br /&gt;A thousand desires such as these&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved rain as a child&lt;br /&gt;As a lost young man&lt;br /&gt;Empty landscapes&lt;br /&gt;Bleached by a tired sun&lt;br /&gt;And then&lt;br /&gt;And then suddenly it came&lt;br /&gt;Like a dark unknown woman&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes scorched my silences&lt;br /&gt;Her body wrapped itself around me&lt;br /&gt;Like a summer without end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pause me, hold me, reach me&lt;br /&gt;Where no man has gone&lt;br /&gt;Crossing the seven seas&lt;br /&gt;With the wings of fire&lt;br /&gt;I fly towards nowhere&lt;br /&gt;And you&lt;br /&gt;Rivers mountains rain&lt;br /&gt;Rain against a scorched landscape of pain&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-2303109300402684834?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/2303109300402684834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/because-i-simply-love-this-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2303109300402684834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/2303109300402684834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/12/because-i-simply-love-this-song.html' title='Because I simply love this song!'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-971400407366106186</id><published>2009-11-26T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:47:26.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'PREFACE' to a story I never wrote...</title><content type='html'>There was no Earth and no sky, only interminable darkness stretching on ahead of me for eternity, and I was steadily walking into it.She kept calling me, begging me to stop, her voice breaking with pain and desperation, but I walked on. The darkness came closer with each step and the voice grew faint.My heart was breaking into a thousand tiny bits. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back to her, but I knew that I must not.I must walk on and embrace the darkness. Every fiber of me cried out in protest; my vision was blinded with tears and my feet grew heavy.I realized I could not do it; I realized that in walking away from her I was walking away from my life.I stopped and turned around....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up with tears in my eyes and her name on my lips.For a while I could not understand what had happened... where was she? Then I slowly looked around the room; at the crumpled sheets, at the naked body of the man lying beside me. I laid back on the pillow, a flimsy blanket provided by the hotel covering my nudity, as the events of the previous night came tumbling back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is often a very thin line between agony and ecstasy;  perhaps only a difference of perspective.As I lay there then, I wasn't sure of what I felt.Agony for what I had done last night, or ecstasy for having proved my point; agony for what I had done to myself, or ecstasy for what I had done to her. A tear slid down the corner of my eye. 'Forgive me', I murmured, 'perhaps it wasn't meant to be'....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-971400407366106186?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/971400407366106186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/preface-to-story-i-never-wrote.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/971400407366106186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/971400407366106186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/preface-to-story-i-never-wrote.html' title='&apos;PREFACE&apos; to a story I never wrote...'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-8577089424843302900</id><published>2009-11-20T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T12:32:44.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The one song that says everything I felt that night....</title><content type='html'>Iris, Goo Goo Dolls....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'd give up forever to touch you&lt;br /&gt;Cause I know that you'll feel me somehow&lt;br /&gt;You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want to go home right now &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all I can taste is this moment&lt;br /&gt;And all I can breathe is your life&lt;br /&gt;Cause sooner or later it's over&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want to miss you tonight &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want the world to see me&lt;br /&gt;Cause I don't think that they'd understand&lt;br /&gt;When everything's made to be broken&lt;br /&gt;I just want you to know who I am &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming&lt;br /&gt;Or the moment of truth in your lies&lt;br /&gt;When everything seems like the movies&lt;br /&gt;Yeah you bleed just to know your alive &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want the world to see me&lt;br /&gt;Cause I don't think that they'd understand&lt;br /&gt;When everything's made to be broken&lt;br /&gt;I just want you to know who I am&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-8577089424843302900?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/8577089424843302900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-song-that-says-everything-i-felt.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8577089424843302900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/8577089424843302900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-song-that-says-everything-i-felt.html' title='The one song that says everything I felt that night....'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6744759637902400874</id><published>2009-11-15T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T08:14:25.619-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Back</title><content type='html'>Everyone comes across a phase in their life when so much is happening around you that all you want to do is escape. It happened to me too, but I was lucky enough that someone actually gave me a chance to disappear for a week and leave everything behind. It felt like someone had turned the volume on the stereo down and everything was fading away in the background, the only reality that remained was the dream I was escaping into. So I let go of all pain, all qualms, irritating relatives and infuriating rules and rituals and took his hand and went away. Not everyone gets a chance like I did, I lived my fairytale week, felt my heart swell with love, felt the sunshine and indulged in an emotion that I thought I would never feel again. I guess a part of me was always aware that it would end, that I would have to come back and take charge of my mundane everyday life again, but I was too happy to pay attention to pending reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week passed, my dream ended, and there I was, once again on the threshold of my bedroom. And for the first time in my life, I was not glad at the sight of it. Instead it felt so stifling. I wanted to rewind time and go back to Delhi again. I didn't want to be alone anymore, I wanted that week to last forever.Getting back had never been so difficult. I know wishful thinking gives no results, but I don't feel I have the strength to handle reality right now. I'll cling on to my memories, I'll live in my cocoon, I'll survive on those conversations we had, I'll smile to myself remembering the time we spent together. Don't ask me to open my eyes, don't ask me to stop feeling what I feel, for emotions never had a 'stop' button. I willingly drank from the poisoned chalice, and I'll have to suffer this exquisite agony.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6744759637902400874?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6744759637902400874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/getting-back.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6744759637902400874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6744759637902400874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/getting-back.html' title='Getting Back'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-3023809366725107679</id><published>2009-11-15T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T07:07:24.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Poem of Love</title><content type='html'>You talk of the beauty of unrequited love,&lt;br /&gt;and hold my gaze with those seductive eyes..&lt;br /&gt;burning me, scorching me&lt;br /&gt;'Stop', I cry, 'not again'!&lt;br /&gt;But its too late&lt;br /&gt;I'm already in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plunged into a sea of agony and ecstasy,&lt;br /&gt;nothing to hold onto except uncertainty,&lt;br /&gt;burning in the heat of your voice..&lt;br /&gt;drowning in the black of your hair..&lt;br /&gt;'Stop', I cry, 'not again'!&lt;br /&gt;But its too late&lt;br /&gt;I'm already in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What magic did you work?&lt;br /&gt;that altered me so much!&lt;br /&gt;I feel myself shiver&lt;br /&gt;even without your touch.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like reaching out&lt;br /&gt;and I feel like holding back,&lt;br /&gt;the intensity heightens...&lt;br /&gt;my heart, 'tis poisoned,&lt;br /&gt;'Not again...please!'&lt;br /&gt;But I'm already in love....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-3023809366725107679?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/3023809366725107679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/poem-of-love.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3023809366725107679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/3023809366725107679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/11/poem-of-love.html' title='A Poem of Love'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-6997728201170973221</id><published>2009-10-21T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T15:34:42.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>21st October, 2009</title><content type='html'>I guess a part of me knew that this was going to happen one day or another. But I tend to be an escapist when I find real life too tough to deal with. So I kept telling myself that there's time, until time finally ran out. I spent my bday 4 days ago, it was a really happy affair, and I was still in that content mood, and then suddenly everything went wrong. I was climbing the steps that would lead me out of Rabindra Sarobar metro, when the phone call came. And I immediately rushed downstairs and took the opposite metro back to Belgachia. Even on my way home I kept telling myself that it was'nt true, that I was going to enter my home and my mom would tell me that it was a false alarm. But I reached home only to have my world collapse around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For at least an hour and a half I didnt have the strength to do anything, but then that stifling feeling set in and all I wanted to do was talk to someone, someone who would understand how I felt. Thats when I let my friends know, so that even if one or two of them decided to come over, I'd get company for a while. I asked for one or two but 9 of them turned up, and for a while I escaped into this make believe cocoon where everything felt normal again. For after they left, once more I was left alone. Hours and hours of sitting and staring ahead of me, seeking answers but ending up with more questions. I feel tired to the bone but I cannot sleep. There's this feeling that I cannot explain. It feels like there's a dead weight on my chest that wont let me breathe. It feels like something is gnawing away at my chest. I feel the tears, but it never reaches my eyes, instead it dies in my throat and I'm left with a moan escaping my lips. I look back at previous incidents when I felt like no more could possibly go wrong with me, no more dreams would be taken away from me, no more pain would be inflicted on me, and feel like laughing. I've often lived under false pretences in order to protect myself from misery. But I've accepted one truth today, that mine is not a life of big smiles and happy memories. I've always scoffed at superstitions, but I no longer scoff at a certain one, the one that says that people born on a new moon night lead cursed lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-6997728201170973221?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/6997728201170973221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/21st-october-2009.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6997728201170973221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/6997728201170973221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/21st-october-2009.html' title='21st October, 2009'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-7907426023616121263</id><published>2009-10-20T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T13:05:35.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain and Pleasure</title><content type='html'>I take ages to settle down into this coma like state where i can switch everything out of tune and carry on with my life in blissful ignorance....and then BANG! i spend a fabulous day which literally displaces my center of gravity.... makes me 'take off my shoes'.....and everything comes back to sharp focus...for ppl who understand wat i mean...dont get me wrong...its not like i dont want these kinda days....its just that...it has its pros and cons....pros include a smile which is pasted on my face for quite some time now...the strong urge to sing.....and excessive daydreaming!!and cons include...as i said before...becoming more sensitive to everything around me once again..meaning tht while the happiness is such tht sometimes i feel i'll burst with it...the pain..when it hits...is equally unbearable....these past two years have been pretty challenging...i lost a lot more than i gained...and things were snatched away from me at a point when i could almost taste it.... and it dosent help if a part of these past two years is strutting about my university in a string of pearls!!! because underneath all those layers of hatred....disgust and a maddening desire to kill..there's still a wound that hasnt healed....and i still cant decide whether i've emerged more vulnerable or invulnerable from all of it....problem is...when everything is in sharper focus...things tend to repeat themselves inside my head...and even simple everyday matters start making me feel guilty....and then there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach which makes me abandon Rimi Di's assignment and write this blog...even though i'm not even halfway through my work!!! so its really difficult to figure out what i want... the numb reverie where i pretty much dont feel anything...or this insane happiness with an equal dose of pain(when it comes).... perhaps...if only the reason for this mad elation was a part of my life and not only something i can observe from a distance....things would have been different.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-7907426023616121263?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/7907426023616121263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/pain-and-pleasure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7907426023616121263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/7907426023616121263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/pain-and-pleasure.html' title='Pain and Pleasure'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1733620491753048158.post-1681627879303600225</id><published>2009-10-20T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T13:03:07.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Aphrodite</title><content type='html'>The first time you left, I hardly felt it. But now tht ur back and leaving again, somehow I cant handle it. I've been really down for quite some time now and I havent been able to figure out why, but I think i just realized it. We met on Shashti and had an amazing time together, but then I said bye and this sinking feeling set in. But still, I thought I'd get to spend another day with you before u leave, but now I'm not even getting tht. Dont get me wrong, I'm not complaining here, I'm just expressing myself.And maybe if I write this note then I'll finally stop crying!(or maybe not...). I know its the pujas and u have to meet a lot of people in a really short time span, but I really wish we had a day together before u left, just the two of us. Ever since class 8 u've been there for me always. We had our share of rough patches, but unlike other relations, the gap didnt alter our friendship at all, it grew stronger every single day, and still does. I'm glad tht I have at least one relation tht time never alters...but ripens! Thank u for everything Aphrodite... for being there for me every time I fell down and for helping me get back up on my feet again.For laughing with me and crying with me...and listening to every tiny thing tht i had to say and solving my problems(over the phone),even in another city. For understanding me or at least trying to understand me while others took a narrow minded approach. For encouraging me in everything tht I'm good at and giving me a rib cracking hug everytime I brought a medal back! For making me feel so loved and important. Its a pretty tough life...what with ppl who u trust constantly backstabbing u and ur dreams being taken away from u when u can almost taste them! But it would have been so much worse without my fairy godmother...my best friend...my sister...my mother...my daughter.... without u...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                        With love,&lt;br /&gt;                                                                         Dipabali.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1733620491753048158-1681627879303600225?l=dipabalidey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/feeds/1681627879303600225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-aphrodite.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1681627879303600225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1733620491753048158/posts/default/1681627879303600225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dipabalidey.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-aphrodite.html' title='To Aphrodite'/><author><name>psycho teddy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792111422516817164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iAMtPgsB6ZU/S8YWrHENqqI/AAAAAAAAACU/2LjglqXkz48/S220/Hydrangeas.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
