Writer's Block

I have been losing myself lately, and finding it all back during conversations with the mother, the boyfriend and the best-friend- who are all back at home, all as lost as me. Some haven't yet moved from where I last left them, be it lying on the bed watching T.V. or angsting over their love lives, some have partly moved on.

"I have been watching the World Movies Channel, the Golden globes- Jennifer Garner's soooo skinny now", it is funny watching my mother talk about Hollywood and phoren cinema when I will always remember her as a hardcore Jagjit Singh fan.

My best-friend's still trying to find herself, I wish she'd just stop- because from where I stand- she's everything, even the things I want to be one day. (I'm not just talking about the fifty kilos.) But you know- the kind of person who walks into restaurants like she owns them, ("I lived in Prague for two years you have no idea how they look at a person with brown skin, that's when I decided to walk around the goddamn city like its MINE.)

Sometimes I find myself in pages of books. Hoping those words will validate me, let them be examples- I'd rather be remembered as a part of an archetype rather than as nothing at all.

I want to go home for sometime. The land of free laundry, never-too-broke-to-have-a-pizza and plenty of hugs (that choke and smother, but are so warm, and so much love that sometimes you're almost scared that you probably dont deserve it).

The place where he's just around the corner, and he'll sit across from you, the most goodlooking boy you have ever seen in your life, - with a voice so deep. Somedays he'll help you find yourself, and the days that you don't, he'll simply offer you plenty of golden packets, warm coffee and lots and lots of food (and tell you that you're pretty even though you look like shit.)