I spilled the ink across the page, trying to spell your name.

You don't need anybody to tell you who you are or what you are. You are what you are!
-The John Lennon


I am what I am. As much as I'm as open to judgement and criticism as everyone else around me is, it's not something that makes me very comfortable. Being judged. Criticism, I can take. Judged, I am, many a times. Do I like it? Nobody's asking me.
I'm ugly, I know. Smart, yes, very, thank you very much. Intelligent, yes, I'd like to believe so. A decent writer, maybe. Not half as good as she wants to be but improving. Sensitive, only regarding a few important things. Possessive, of the very same things. Egoistic, not the least. Confident, yes, a bit too much, maybe. Arrogant, sometimes in anger. Cranky, in loneliness. Happy, when alone, too. High self-esteem. Peaceful, serene, and sometimes, mysterious.  


Have been thinking since quite some time to get a form spring for this blog. But then again, is there anything you guys would want to ask me, or is there anybody out there even remotely interested to know anything about me, or talk to me? Maybe, yes, maybe not. I don't know. It's an idea that's toying in my head and I might put it to action, or might not. Is there anything that I can be decisive about right now? I don't know that either.

Far away, the thoughts serenade,

in quick, random movements,

they dance, sometimes in fury, sometimes in urgency,

sometimes, in induced calmness.

But how am I responsible for the same?