Write a post, bitch the most.
Find a friend, make it end.
Now you're back, sit on a tac.
Wake you up, make you stop.

One of those rare instances where I believe this embodies all I feel like saying.
And then I write more.

Most days I feel pretty self-important and that is the quality which allows me to write innane scribblings. Today is grey for the fifth time consecutively. My skin is not as brown as it used to be.. or warm. This weather is Damp saran wrap, Frozen leftovers, Expired yogurt.
I know if Aravind were here he'd tell me he can see it in my eyes. Big eyes. Caramel eyes. Expressive eyes. I don't think I would get defensive today, or scared by him reaching into me.

I'm going outside now on the off chance this apartment is what is really Grey.