Wait. What?

Of misguided paths. Of dusty roads. Of unknown questions. Of revisited songs.  Of swings and curved slides. Of promises. Given and taken. Of drama. Lived and relived. Of words. Erased and written. Of love. And all that matters. Of days yet to begin. Of eyes yet to smile. Of dreams yet to come true. Of stories yet to be told. Help me leave behind some, Reasons to be missed. Will you?

And she laughed in her silence, alone but heart-full, loud but slow. With a voice at the other end, laughing but listening too. She looked up from the dusty floor, from the painted toe nails. Between the orange street light from across the road and the yellow balcony light from above her head, she saw the small drizzles. So small, they couldn't be seen. Yet so much, they couldn't be missed. Watching the drizzles wave to her from right to left steadily, she grew quiet; she grew a smile. You are happy now.. She was told or asked, with a voice so childlike yet so mesmeric. And her smile in then silence amongst the drizzles gave an answer.

Zeppelin. That's why. There is always a reason. It seems. There is always a question. There is always an answer. True. Maybe. Or not. Who is to judge. Unconditional- jazz do exist, you know. It is a different thing, yes. A beautiful thing. Tryin' to find a women who's never been born. He says. Yea, let's figure that out for now. Shall we. Fingers escape lightly on the keys as I type. Randomly also. It's this noise that I missed. 

Never really understood what the fuss is all about for a new year. While the world continues to party. Booze. Crackers. Cakes. Anymore?! I will bury my big head in the big books. And be a silly nerd. Hmm. 2013, be good please.

The sky is bright outside. I can see through the window. The thick curtains are drawn completely in my room. And it feels like dark winter. Everything is warm and soothing on the inside. Who wants to look outside. The reality. Who wants the truth. A girl can dream, can wish, can pray, can hope. Can't she?! I am just a girl. It's times like this when I make no sense, I dislike myself. Hate is a strong word, you see. My fingers keep moving nonstop on the keyboard. It amazes me. I pause. Why?! To break the knuckles. To rethink my thoughts. To reorder my thoughts. All jumbled up. Feels like a curled up bundle of wires. And the image of it in my head is disturbing. But the pause makes it only worse. Give me a warm thick blanket. I'll bury myself in it and never be seen. Listen to Norah Jones. And how she wants me to come away with her. Heh. Maybe I should go out. For a walk. Alone. To shake off this feeling. My feet is cold. Numb. Is the feeling.

Get drunk on the house roof top. Count the stars until the alcohol reaches the head. Lie down on the tiled wooden roof. Complain about the cold wind hitting my arms. Pour another glass full. The clink in our cheers gives an extra boost. Look up to the full moon to say something. And I hear a rolling laughter in my head. Or is it just you by my side?! Insane, have I gone?! High, I have reached?! Who knows.

They come. They go. We remain. The same, maybe not But a little worse, yes. #internals. And, there burns the midnight bulb. But she is fast asleep.