building castles in the air

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I like dreaming.

Dreaming, imagining, not being in the present moment – all the same thing.

Sometimes my dreams are amazingly lifelike and I wake up with a sense of longing to go back to them and live out my life in that situation. Not exactly situation, more of a, um, linear stream of things going forward from that moment in time? I have no idea.

Sometimes, they appear to be the product of an insane mind. This combined with the lifelike factor is unsettling, to say the least.

And at other times, after a particularly bad day, I wake up terrified with no idea of my dreams except for a faint sense of horror.

I’m thinking of starting a dream diary. Basically somewhere to note down my dreams and see if there’s a coherent pattern. I’m not sure what that’ll help me achieve but as long as it’s something to do, right?

When I can’t sleep, I think about stories. They always give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, like I’m hugging a teddy bear. I think about things that make me happy and I sometimes fall asleep. Not always, though. Those times I stare at the ceiling and curse my myopia. Who would’ve thought that a blurry ceiling induces regret, of all the emotions?

(at this very moment i want to hug this blog)

One of my worst dreams ever was one in which I was outside, walking somewhere. It was nighttime. Then I looked up. Everything was fine until I realised the moon was slowly growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger –

Then I woke up.

If the world’s going to end, that’s the worst way it could happen. Right now.

I have fallen in love with Sherlock and The Big Bang Theory and Doctor Who.

Jimon.

Johnlock.

(now to go read fanfiction. bye)

if i should die tonight may i first just say i’m sorry

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I’m hung over on fun. and Panic! At the Disco. And this lyric so perfectly resembles my feelings at night.

The first part – “die tonight”? That won’t happen until I’m at least eighty, I hope.

The second bit is where it gets more complicated.

I’ve done a ton of things I regret, things that most probably seem insane and/or mean in retrospect. I’m probably too young to be expressing those sentiments. Maybe when I grow up I’ll look back on this blog and laugh about how teenage melodrama is idiotic but right now? I feel horrible.

It is strange how opening up to strangers is fifty times easier than talking to friends/parents/relatives (unless of course you talk to them over the Internet – but even then, not always).

Since I’m typing at the speed of light – ish right now this might be something really important to write about. Maybe.

Refer to this for a more in-depth explanation of the Maybe. I’m not good with depth.

See, most stupid things I’ve done have been in the past four years. And that’s probably not uncommon but the choking guilt I feel most nights when I can’t sleep (I’m definitely not the only one in that case) is not.

Uncommon, that is.

Like when I was nine-ish I was at this camp for my co-curricular activity, Choir (yes I sing and singing is so damn fun) and it was maybe eight pm? Overnight camp.

We had been given a ten minute break so I headed to the washroom one level up from the multi-purpose room where we were practicing. I was a right little ball of happiness and sunshine back then (read: i despised everyone except my few friends because i was a bitchy nine year old). While walking back to the MPR, I heard these three girls inside giggling and stuff.

To give you a better sense of the place, I had exited the stairwell and the washroom was right beside the entrance. Then came  a corridor and a bend, then a corridor with the staff room, then another bend and the MPR. Capiche?

So. They were all in the same cubicle (…AND NOW i realise how wrong that sounds. god.)  so I ran in, clicked the lights off, made this spookish sound, flicked the light on, and ran ahead to the first bend in the corridor. Sadistic me was happy when I heard them screaming in terror. Then a boy one year older than me exited the stairwell just as the girls ran out of the bathroom. I hid behind a pillar and watched them accuse him of terrifying them. The poor kid was nervous and had no idea what they were talking about.

I dashed ahead to the MPR and entered half a minute before the four of them.

The girls, of course, reported him to the teacher in charge. It helped that he was a troublemaker.

I never suffered any negative consequences.

If you’re out there, boy with brown/blond hair, I’m very, very sorry. I was a bitch and I should have owned up but I guess if it’s any help you know who did it?

Oh well.

There are so many more things I could type about and if you know me, I’ve most probably done something terrible.

I feel horrible this year so.

I’m sorry. And sorry is an ugly word. (but i guess what I’m apologising for is similarly displeasing to the eye)

i am the house / the house is me

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I see a house in my mind’s eye. It looks moderately well-cared for, and seems to have twelve storeys from afar. Rather a small house, painted in shades of brown and black. Average, as most of them go.

When I go closer, cross the territory line, I see that it has five or six storeys – it tends to fluctuate. They follow the same colour scheme as the twelve-storeyed illusion.

Upon entering, it is evident that there are twenty-seven levels – each in their own unique sort of disarray. The top fifteen storeys have no windows to look out of. All the walls there are blue, or red, or white, tinted with black.

But back to the outside.

The garden the house keeps is not very well tended. It has promise, yes, with many blooming flowers and such. However, there is no order and what would otherwise be a rather beautiful garden turns into a horrifying mess. I am, quite surprisingly, the only person there.

The neighbourhood is new. Kind of. Most houses follow the same template as this one and just have different motifs to base their designs upon.

Mine: all sorts of books.

( the title should make it rather evident, in any case )

if a title is optional then a post with meaning is also optional.

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I like logical inconsistencies. I really, really like logical inconsistencies. Apart from the fact that the phrase is fun to say, I like pointing them out and being stared at blankly. I don’t think many people realise that yes, i do it for the inanity of it.

Do I? I hope so.

I think I do things for the – not sure how to say this – the recognition? Not really.

I think I try to latch on to things so they can be known as “mine”, of sorts, when they’re brought up. To bring in a real life example: one of my friends has been a fan of M5, Adam Levine, TVD and Ian Somerhalder for as long as I (and the others) can remember. Then she brought in Cobra Starship and House too but that isn’t the point.

The point is that whenever a subject like the above-mentioned is brought up, conversation is in her hands. As the “expert” on the topic she’s basically acknowledged as being such. I’d like that a lot.

Is that so bad, really?

I’m pretty sure that’s why I started this blog. To write crap, reflect (?) and maybe learn something about myself in the process.

There’s a ninety per cent chance that I’ll fail. I don’t care.

I think I’m a pretentious idiot, really. There’s always this small “voice” of sorts, commentating on every single thing I do. I don’t think I’m crazy, no, just – well, slightly off.

More than slightly.

I guess this is it. Don’t read if you want something awesome.

Bye.

me, myself, and the fangirl

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Hello.

I’m Neha.

I don’t really know why in typing my real name and all – privacy ladida. But hell with it.

This be my first blog on WordPress. It’ll probably turn into a spam haven. I don’t really care.

So. I am of an unspecified age between two and two hundred, I do not enjoy making friends, I have bad-terrible eyesight, I deny all connections with my few friends when they act ridiculous and I am a hypocrite.

I probably act worse than they do ninety-eight percent of the time. But there’s always that two percent of freedom/maturity.
(I don’t know why I typed freedom there)
(I really don’t)

I’m one of the most inadequate people to walk the earth. I can’t do anything right 😀

And I’m happy. Should I be happy? I don’t know.

That’s it for entry 1. Goodnight.