Ahem. New month. And I'm so out of things to do these days. And its just the beginning. Thank god it rained today. Like properly, not like the drizzles, and slowly die away in 10 minutes or something. Ohh, by the way... the whatever I was supposed to do, as in the whole thing... that I talked about in the blog before... It turned out to be pretty good.

Anyways... I've ben thinking. Thinking about what I could possibly do in the next three weeks. Do this? Meet people I dont really like? Stay at home and piss off my dear mother, who would to no avail try to throw me out of the house to go learn biking? Biking sucks. And so does swimming.

Don't you get extremely pissed at yourself for doing things, you so wished you never did? It's like a gut feeling that existed all along, that don't do it - it's bad for you, or it's not right - but you still go ahead and do it - why? No one forced you to. No one asked you to. Nor were the conditions that 'influenced' you towards making that decision. (inclusive of the point whether you were drunk or not)... Yet you did. why?

And why is it that there's just so much to tell, yet not a word comes out? For no reason whatsoever. You want to tell her, you want her to know, about everything that's been going through your head, all this time? About now, about today, about yesterday, tomorrow and the day after, about her, about him, about everyone else. People always seem to be so disinterested - you don't really want them to go through listening all of the whining. Would it be too late by the time I actually do?

And why is it so hard to believe in what you have, and so easy to assume the lies that you know you don't ? Why is it that you have to waste time convincing yourself that whatever happening is not happening for a reason. It's happening, because its destiny. Because, it was meant to.

Maybe someday, I'd grow up to realise. 'As the prophecy goes'.

Yes, Daughtry rocks.

Shwetak farts. Exits.