I am frustrated by my attempts at writing. I can't write without over-analysing, without embellishing my thoughts with useless words. I wonder why i bothered to keep this space at all. It is full of humbug nonsense. I cannot write honestly and may be that's because i'm fooling myself. The grand conspiracy is to hide from the truth of my own guilt-ridden, passive-aggressive existence. A lot of this mental torturing is self-inflicted, stifling honest self-expression. Censure my words, project a social demeanour and suffer in silence. Storyoflife.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
all in a day
beedis make me high; portishead makes me depressed; gay talese eggs me on to write; DTDC 440 tests my patience; IHC is stuffy; autumn evenings are lovely; having a room of one's own is a luxury.
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