Monday, 2 June 2014

I wanted to rant.

Aaaargh.
I wish I had this really, really long roll of cello tape and I wish I could go around pasting it onto miserable blabbering mouths. As long as Rapunzel’s hair. I have always admired her hair.

I wish I could shout and ask people to stop thinking because they have no brains. Okay. Maybe, they do. Maybe, they do have brains but their brains are full of squashed flies. Such mindless squashed flies
.
God. Don’t these people know me? Of course, they do not. But I guess it is just how things are. The world is supposed to presume things. It always does. It always has. It’s not new to me. I am not a kid. I am an eighteen year old girl. WOMAN.

OK, writing stuff down like this in a fit of spirits, maybe I am over reacting. But I find all of it so EWWWW. There’s nothing wrong in finding anything ewwww. It’s just the way I am. I’m a pathetic, stupid creature.

It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. But it is the first time my friends have started acting so weird. ‘Go for it.’ Or ‘Awwwww.’
It just, it’s not going to happen, buddy. Don’t you get that? Don’t you get that shit? I keep telling them that. They keep laughing. And declaring their own go-for-the-happiness-you-deserve-philosophies. 

Okay. People have asked me. More people have been asking suddenly. I don’t know when it all began but it seemed like the world suddenly realizes that you’re a girl when you turn 15 or something. And ever since then, GOD. Ewwww. 
I know a lot of people run away from it because of the gloom and twinge some scoundrel wreaks. In my case though, it’s not even like I have some heart wrenching or depressing all-men-are-assholes story inside of me to compel me to run away from all of this. It’s just that, it’s ME. I can’t, man. I can’t. I just can’t feel the way everyone does.

And maybe I’m dumb or immature or whatever, but it is what I am and I’d like to stay what I am until some astounding tornado uproots everything I have ever stood for.

Do you know everything I have ever stood for?
I’ll tell you.
I want to be uprooted. Because that’s the only way I am ever going to leave what I stand for. Uprooted entirely by a storm; a lovely, daunting storm. I want to repulse it, I want the storm to be uncouth and vicious to me but it is going to drag me, whisk me away and make me churn so hard into it that I will forget that I ever want to escape. It’ll love me like I have never been loved before. It’ll love my soul, it'll love my flaws. It’ll caress my senses, make me bloom, make me lovelier and happier. What uproots me will be a happening, not a doing. It’ll oppose everything I say, it’ll annoy me, charm me and ensnare me into its vortex. And I’ll be too happy to be fenced all my life. I’ll love the tempest and keep it raging with all of me, with every shred of me I can give.
I’ll tell you what.
I thought I saw one captivating little gust of wind.
I thought it would turn out to be the storm in my life. 
But I think not now of the gust of wind. I think it’ll pass me by without an inkling of how it can accomplish uprooting me. I’m just a yapping thing to that gust of wind. 
It’s sad. I’m sure the gust doesn’t even realize that I wanted it to become the storm to me. Maybe, it is supposed to be a storm to raze another soul.
So I guess I’ll have to wait. Wait for my very own squall to arrive.

I am sure no reader would understand a word I am saying but please excuse me because I am not really in my senses right now. I lent my senses to a pitiless assassinate who chopped it off and fed it to zombie dogs.

And I have had a lot of chilled orange squash. I really liked having it. You should try chilled orange squash sometimes and sit with a laptop and type things away. Like no one’s ever going to read.
I hope no one reads this. If you are reading it right now, just know that this is all just a low, brain slopping gag.

I just had to put it down.
I wanted to rant.