"And now here we were, roaming around without a proper goal ;like two pages of paper flowing in the wind."
In the orbits of my days and nights, I met a guy.
Nope. This won't take the angle you're hoping it'll take.
He was..disturbed. He was insane. He had the craziest life story ever, which is probably the cause for his crazy ideals. The night we met was by chance. We mutually got together to make fun of someone's post. When two bored people start taking someone's case, they find out that despite being complete strangers, they at least have one objective in common. That's enough to spark a conversation.
I'd heard about his cool "hookah" dp. Indifference. Heard he's a better writer than I am, not surprising. Almost everyone who attempts is. Cute too. Senior, beware.
Indifference.
What I intended was a short conversation. Perhaps compete a little when it came to writing. Then let go and he'd just be another forgotten name on the friend's list.
What I didn't know is, just half an hour after the conversation begins and he tells me a little about himself, I was going to explode.
People like us show we don't care when we actually do, deep inside. That bubble bursts sometimes. And you pour your heart out to the nearest cactus if available. The day had been unbearable. And soon I was boring him with all the fights, drama, idiosyncratic situations.
It was FIFA week, and football is life, apparently. He tried to teach me. I learnt. I got a team to support. I'm not a game illiterate. And he's the reason why I could stay up and be a part of the thrill.
Somewhere around 3 am, after England vs Italy and cursing Rooney for missing a goal, I agreed to write a story collab with the guy. While most of the time mine take a ridiculous turn, this turned out to be dark. After it ended, I sat there for a long time not daring to speak, but simply read it again and again.
I still miss no chance to quote it.
Rarely my eyes have ever been wide open with excitement. No, it wasn't the world's greatest piece. Fictitious to a fault. But there was something about it which sent chills down your spine and goosebumps on your arms.
It was the first time, at 3 am, that I lost sleep. The willingness. The droopy eyelids, which was extremely strange because it wasn't that good anyway. I even lost words that day. All I could write back was "This is nice. I'm keeping it."
And after that, there hasn't been a single time when I've been awake for a long time and he wasn't online. A constant break from whatever it was I was doing, whether it was blindly insulting some society's infidel or MUN killing the FUN. I'm eternally grateful to the "Khushiii" and "Khushi?" and "Whattup boo?" because boo reminds me of my favourite monster. I adore him for going all the way down to the first post of my blog to tell me how much it sucked and how I'm excused because we all do stupid things in Class 8.
I promised you shoes. Adidas Classics, when I come into cash. That's not happening. Maybe I'll buy you pizza someday, because I've finally found someone who likes it as much as I do, if not more. (Tacos rule the world, though).
He doesn't like what he writes, and people have his poems as covers. Waow.
Let me assure you, the weakness you have for "Okay."s, the way they get to you is kind of cute. And no, don't deny it.
"The 29 benefits of weed" still hasn't convinced me.
Please tell me what a "bad trip" is.
Please continue pissing me off. I'll keep returning the favor.
"Repeating topics" will never be boring.
"Growhill" will never stop, nor will it get old.
Thanks for being the only person online to share my "69 likes on dp" milestone.
" Hamare baare mein bhi likh do. :P" Lo. Likh diya.
You must sleep with Piglet. Alimony. 400 crore like Suzanne Roshan.
I rock for being the soulmate who cut up your soul and drank it under the Alter.
Facebook Black is rad, bro.
Because he listens, laughs, ridicules, K-zones everything I tell him, which instantly makes me feel good.
But the reason he stands out from everyone else is that he forgets. I know I can come to him with the most important secret of my life and blurt it out if I want relief, because he won't remember it when he wakes up the next day.
<Not that I will. Please. :3 >
Happy Birthday, Rohil.
This isn't the best thing ever. I dread how juvenile it sounds.
Forgive the cheesiness.
Thank you for cheering me up and listening when you were under no obligation to.
And no, you definitely care.
"Like two sheets of paper floating in the wind. Only now they had one another, to give them directions."
In the orbits of my days and nights, I met a guy.
Nope. This won't take the angle you're hoping it'll take.
He was..disturbed. He was insane. He had the craziest life story ever, which is probably the cause for his crazy ideals. The night we met was by chance. We mutually got together to make fun of someone's post. When two bored people start taking someone's case, they find out that despite being complete strangers, they at least have one objective in common. That's enough to spark a conversation.
I'd heard about his cool "hookah" dp. Indifference. Heard he's a better writer than I am, not surprising. Almost everyone who attempts is. Cute too. Senior, beware.
Indifference.
What I intended was a short conversation. Perhaps compete a little when it came to writing. Then let go and he'd just be another forgotten name on the friend's list.
What I didn't know is, just half an hour after the conversation begins and he tells me a little about himself, I was going to explode.
People like us show we don't care when we actually do, deep inside. That bubble bursts sometimes. And you pour your heart out to the nearest cactus if available. The day had been unbearable. And soon I was boring him with all the fights, drama, idiosyncratic situations.
It was FIFA week, and football is life, apparently. He tried to teach me. I learnt. I got a team to support. I'm not a game illiterate. And he's the reason why I could stay up and be a part of the thrill.
Somewhere around 3 am, after England vs Italy and cursing Rooney for missing a goal, I agreed to write a story collab with the guy. While most of the time mine take a ridiculous turn, this turned out to be dark. After it ended, I sat there for a long time not daring to speak, but simply read it again and again.
I still miss no chance to quote it.
Rarely my eyes have ever been wide open with excitement. No, it wasn't the world's greatest piece. Fictitious to a fault. But there was something about it which sent chills down your spine and goosebumps on your arms.
It was the first time, at 3 am, that I lost sleep. The willingness. The droopy eyelids, which was extremely strange because it wasn't that good anyway. I even lost words that day. All I could write back was "This is nice. I'm keeping it."
And after that, there hasn't been a single time when I've been awake for a long time and he wasn't online. A constant break from whatever it was I was doing, whether it was blindly insulting some society's infidel or MUN killing the FUN. I'm eternally grateful to the "Khushiii" and "Khushi?" and "Whattup boo?" because boo reminds me of my favourite monster. I adore him for going all the way down to the first post of my blog to tell me how much it sucked and how I'm excused because we all do stupid things in Class 8.
I promised you shoes. Adidas Classics, when I come into cash. That's not happening. Maybe I'll buy you pizza someday, because I've finally found someone who likes it as much as I do, if not more. (Tacos rule the world, though).
He doesn't like what he writes, and people have his poems as covers. Waow.
Let me assure you, the weakness you have for "Okay."s, the way they get to you is kind of cute. And no, don't deny it.
"The 29 benefits of weed" still hasn't convinced me.
Please tell me what a "bad trip" is.
Please continue pissing me off. I'll keep returning the favor.
"Repeating topics" will never be boring.
"Growhill" will never stop, nor will it get old.
Thanks for being the only person online to share my "69 likes on dp" milestone.
" Hamare baare mein bhi likh do. :P" Lo. Likh diya.
You must sleep with Piglet. Alimony. 400 crore like Suzanne Roshan.
I rock for being the soulmate who cut up your soul and drank it under the Alter.
Facebook Black is rad, bro.
Because he listens, laughs, ridicules, K-zones everything I tell him, which instantly makes me feel good.
But the reason he stands out from everyone else is that he forgets. I know I can come to him with the most important secret of my life and blurt it out if I want relief, because he won't remember it when he wakes up the next day.
<Not that I will. Please. :3 >
Happy Birthday, Rohil.
This isn't the best thing ever. I dread how juvenile it sounds.
Forgive the cheesiness.
Thank you for cheering me up and listening when you were under no obligation to.
And no, you definitely care.
"Like two sheets of paper floating in the wind. Only now they had one another, to give them directions."
