For The First Time

She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart
While I'm drinking jack all alone in my local bar
And we don't know how we got into this mad situation
Only doing things out of frustration

Trying to make it work but man these times are hard
She needs me now but I can't seem to find the time
I've got a new job now in the unemployment line
And we don't know we got into this mess it's a gods test
Someone help us cause we're doing our best

Trying to make it work but man these times are hard
But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine
Sit talking up all night
Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah
We're smiling but we're close to tears
Even after all these years
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting
For the first time

She's in line at the door with her head held high
While I just lost my job but didn't lose my flight
But we both know how we're gonna make it work when it hurts
When you pick yourself up you get kicked in the dirt

Trying to make it work but man these times are hard
But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine
Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah
We're smiling but we're close to tears

Even after all these years
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting
For the first time

But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine
Sit talking up all night
Saying things we haven't for a while, 
We're smiling but we're close to tears
Even after all these years
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting
For the first time
For the first time
Oh, for the first time
Yeah, for the first time

Oh these times are hard
Yeah they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me baby
Oh these times are hard
Yeah they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me baby
Oh these times are hard
Yeah they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me baby

Oh these times are hard
Yeah they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me baby


-The Script

Lost Music, Found Lyrics.

"Show is over close the storybook, 

There will be no encore."

-The Verve Pipe

What happens when all your life you've chased after something and it's always eluded you? Does it lose it's charm and luster in your eyes, with time? Or does it become that much more coveted and irreplaceable? You're doomed if it's the latter. 

Love. Boy, I hate that word. 

The one thing we want more than anything else. The one thing we wish were permanent and is the least of all things permanent. Is not to love. It's to be loved. And how hard could it be right? You can love. So why can't he? You talk to him about his passions, fears, ambitions (or the lack thereof). About his football and how he once had a serious injury. About how he likes his food bland. About parallel lives and parallel worlds. Of dreams, attainable and attainably-unattainable. About Blood Diamond and how you've never seen it. About music you don't understand. About pseudo intellects. About drugs and foolish theories. About tobacco and quiet nights. About loving 500 Days of Summer and never wanting it for yourself. And you listen too. 

You look absolutely gorgeous when you put on a dress and dapper heels. You match him step by step and just stop short of overstepping your femininity. He loves that. You take his breath away each time you choose to flash your wit or let down your hair. He loves that too. Then why can't he love you? 

Tricky isn't it? Beautiful, subtle, passionate, crazy, smart, funny, and everything just a fortnight ago he told you he saw in you and loved. But he just didn't love you. I don't get it either. I don't get what twisted, cruel act of fate makes you put yourself and your heart right out on the line each time and then have it lashed at with such fury that it takes aeons for it to revive and rekindle even one-fourth of its warmth back into you. 

I stay up late mugging up lines about the Indian Economy and straining to see the lace details of the latest Dior booties, at the same time, and somewhere in the middle, it hits me like a punch in the belly and almost laughs at me while it watches me reeling under the pain for some ten endless minutes of excruciating torture. This love. 

I'm still running the treasure-hunt marathon. Just taking a time-out to submerge myself in this city, its odor, to make it's eccentric life run through my veins (precaution: side-effects may include erratic bleeding), and to forge a lifelong sisterhood and superfluousness. 

So maybe I'll find the lyrics to my music. Maybe it'll add meaning and depth to some wordless tunes. Maybe it'll make something only shiny plastic, actually beautiful.

Keep running girls. And watch out for the speed-breakers. (:

Malice In Wonderland.

While everyone was busy falling in love. I fell in hate. Hate for myself. Disgust for the life I'd come to live. And a conscience that didn't just prick. It stabbed until I was bleeding repugnance. An abhorrent picture of someone who lost all sense of being and belonging, somewhere along the way. I feel stripped. Of every hint of ignorance I'd grown to be comfortable wearing. Of every little nuance of innocence I could once relate to. Of vesture that may not have been glamorous, but it hid me well. From jealousies, temptations, malice, abuse and dark love. Basically everything that was real. That was evil. My safeguards from all of you.


Where they once promised me relief, unbounded love, selfless protection, and an unending friendship, I'm now looked at disdainfully and done away with a shrug. And if I'm lucky, a non-committal, monosyllabic reference. Fate. To say you've been cruel... That would be an understatement. 


I'd wanted to say more. Leak more pathos. Let on a few more of my agonizing stories. But I'm just going to tell you dear friend, that you're terribly missed. I'm slowly extracting you from my core, and it's going to take time, but I'm working on it. I'm still a childish romantic. So to say that I won't be waiting anymore, would be a lie. I'm just hoping you miss me half as much as I miss you. 


This morning somebody sent me a paragraph that I'd now like to share with you. 


"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” -Neil Gaiman


(Thank you Aman) :)