Yes, I care too much but that doesn’t necessarily mean that those people I care for have the right to look down upon me and I would get hurt. Yes, I don’t usually comb my hair and wear tight fitting clothes and that doesn’t necessarily mean that I have no curves or class, I love walking and that doesn’t mean I can’t afford a cab.
I talk loudly, laugh until my stomach starts to hurt, until I have tears in my eyes, my cheeks start aching and until I fall off laughing hard. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t know how to behave or present myself, or you could pinch me with your judgmental needle words and I wouldn’t mind. I paint my nails black, blue, green and yellow so? I have guy friends and I talk to them about every possible thing in the world when least expected; from funniest to the saddest and deepest to the weirdest.
I talk about stars and sea, destiny and dinner, religion and relationships, peace and porn, technology and termites, wormholes and little worms, prayer and murder, loneliness and lust, brothels and brotherhood. No brother, I ain’t vulgar, I am a piece of art, I am crazy, weird, stupid and what not. I have a carefree heart of a hippie and soul of a learner, I am gorgeous in my own flaws. My eyes twinkle with the stars and heart flies with butterflies, my mind is tranquil and my hair is a mess, I don’t wake makeup mask but let my imperfections breathe, my lips bloom like the soft petals of rose and my legs dance to the music of life.
I stomp my feet and bang the door hard, I swing my hips to the piano and flute, I forgive people but never forget them. Yes, I talk to them but never actually communicate. words loose meanings, breathe loses life, flowers wither, memories fade but rightly said; when eyes meet, the story shall never remain the same… Aye, love! it shan’t .
