Here I am, again. Well, this barely counts as again since I was here just now. Literally. I never went off, actually. I just crave intelligent conversation. And I happen to like myself. Therefore, I like to converse with myself. Also, I like to pretend that you, who's reading this right now, is intelligent. Therefore, I am having an intelligent conversation with you now.
I flatter myself, don't I? Thinking that there are people out there who actually read the blog. Well, that might be my fault, to a certain extent. But only a very certain extent. I'm private about my writing. That is mainly due to the fact that I'm very insecure about what I write. Oh, yes I am. I am extremely insecure. Therefore, I'm not comfortable sharing this blog on facebook. Since I don't share it, no one reads it. I'm a coward, aren't I? And here I am, doing an English major so I can write. *sigh* What a fool *mutters to self* what a fool.
I read other people's blogs. They seem so impressive. With their big, beautiful, creative words and their poetry that appears to be spun lightly with gold and light and laid out in intricate patterns that hang lightly and flow with your eyes and wrap themselves around your hearts till you feel you're flying.
I wish I could write like that. I read those blogs, and envy lays over me, in layers and layers as thin and infinite as that in a lachha parantha. There goes the proof. Lachha parantha. I compared my envy to the layers of a lachha parantha.
I'm happy today, thought. I might complain. I might crib. I might wallow away and daunt your hearts with my melancholy despairing. But, I'm happy.
After the long, repetitive chain of dozing days and nocturnal nights, I finally saw the light of day again. What a change it is!!
The day really seems to have 24 hours again. I watch the sun rise from my window. Every morning. The sun is beautiful as it rises. The sky turns from a dark, dark grape coloured expanse to the colour of cherries. Deep, dark red. The cherries turn to strawberries. Strawberries turn to apples. The sun rises, like deep flaming mandarin and squeezes it's light, playful juice and spreads it around. The blue of the sky plays with the lemon in such a happy manner, as to make lemonade. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When the sun rises to the sky, the world has lemonade. It wake you up and fills you with the promise of juice and freshness and brightness. That's what a sunrise is like. It's beautiful, isn't it? :)
And when the sun rises, and the snow if still falling, it is like the stars are falling to the ground. The snow jumps around, glittering like a thousand diamonds. I will always hate myself for this reference, but the snow falls as though someone took Edward Cullen up into the sky, put dynamite in him, and blew him up, and pieces of him turned to powder and fell through the sky, glittering and dancing in the sunlight.
I have been listening to a band recently, called Beirut. They are the most different and unique and just..... quaint music I have a heard in a while. Their music makes me think of beaches and circuses and tall grass that reaches up to your waist and ships in bottles and pirates and hourglasses and violet and daisies and patches and elephants and banjos and porches and confetti and country and dancing and swinging and of all the pretty things in the world. They are the closest definition to the word quaint.
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