Welter

I can't seem to defragment
All these pieces in the end
I can't hurt, I can't feel
I'm barely conscious at my best
I can't bare the silence
Or the noise in my head
It's a crowd defining reason
To the one who's lost the will to listen

-NH

(Insert Title Here)

The best thing about this blog is that it's invisible to practically the entire population that's online. You can't STUMBLE on it. You literally have to search specifically for this blog to find it. That's frikkin awesome! It means, the absolute crap I post here will never pop up on any sane person's web browser. I was over the moon when I realised that. Last night. When I was procrastinating. That's  usually the time when my brain works tirelessly to impress me at just how useless it can be. I'm more than impressed. Is it wrong if I feel kinda proud of it?

That's also pretty much what prompted me to post here. After 2 years of neglecting this blog. Hey, I don't get paid for this, what do you expect? Plus, I started this blog as a means of procrastination during my exams so, the only time I post here is when I have important tasks pending. It's pretty obvious that doesn't happen often. Until now. I'm FINALLY swamped in coursework, enough to make me write. woo hoo?

This year has been the worst one yet. But I did learn alot. I'll go ahead and list what I learnt:

• nothing.

So, 2017, eh? Will it impress or depress? I'm even fine with a meh year.

http://www.relatably.com/

-NH

Debris

Caught in a world so Shattered
The pieces everywhere
I'm losing all that mattered
Finding a new way
To put some meaning to my life
Stop walking away, from everything
It's so broken
It's all that remains


Everyone's left this place
Already forgotten it
There's only me left
I'm buried deep, within the rubble
Breathing is a pain
It's the burden I've become
That's weighing me down


Is it obvious that I'm lost
Or am I hiding it too well
Am I alone in this hell
Has no one fallen where I fell?

-NH

blurayview.com

Compartmentalized

I guess that's picturesque enough
Those words frozen in time
I'm looking at them as they bleed, in the sun
trickling down the mountainsides
It's a crime
It's sublime

Blurred patterns take their place
They're stolid in their ways
Won't take another step
Clouds like dressing in their greys

Bold commitments and budding doubts
Been burning Hope, and I'm running out
Faulty ceilings, built in the past
I never thought that I'd be back so fast

Caught in the know
Blank faces everywhere
Did you really think this is doing fine?
When you dig too deep
You're lying
You're dying

-NH

pinterest.com

Ramblings: MESS-interpreted

To everyone who knows me, I'm a neat-freak. I freak out when everything's clean and tidy. Last year, I had a panic attack when I came home from college, to find that my brother and mum had cleaned up my room. If my brother hadn't dumped the contents of my bag all over the room at that very moment, it would have taken alot more than xanax and breathing exercises to calm me down. And we never have xanax. Anti-anxiety drugs never last more than a day in our house. We use them for all sorts of stuff. they're used as a self-declared cure-all, they've been used as sleeping pills, even as drain openers (works best on anxiety-ridden drains), and on some occasions as tranquilizers (for the noisy feline couple that's taken a liking to my dad's mint patch in our backyard. One time, I swear I saw those cats grinning at a dandelion for two hours straight. Xanax is a happy drug after all).

I've always believed a messy environment has greater positives than a clean one. At least for me. It's less complicated. I know exactly where everything is- in that evergrowing pile on my carpet. I don't have to worry about making a mess while looking for stuff, because I'll be digging through one that's already there! A place for everything and everything in its place. That's what mum used to say.

I've also started to treat my mess as a person. NOT because I saw it move around when it thought I was asleep. NOT because it yelled, "Ow!" when I stepped on it the other day. NOT because it sheds a few of my things in the living room, on its visits to the fridge, and then I have to explain to mum how they got there. I treat it as a person because it told me to. It also threatened to eat my brother if I didn't do a post about it. You have to understand, I really need my brother. He's the only alarm clock that can wake me up.

-NH

http://www.shawndecker.com

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The Ebb and Flow of Creativity

I've always wanted to be inspired by the literary greats. I'd read biographies of famous poets and writers, and even kept this book of quotes where I'd jot down quotes I liked. But all this never really helped me with creativity. For an aspiring fiction writer, that's the one thing you CAN'T do without.

Somewhere along the line (that would be yesterday), I realised you had to be creative about creativity. You have to cajole it. Pleading with it just gives it a big head. Nah. You have to really get into its head. Into.... your head. Wait, what? Is anyone still reading this?

Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is-



Now THAT's a cliffhanger! XD

I'm having way too much coffee these days. :/

-NH

Making a Fuss about Descriptions

I prefer liquid descriptions rather than solid ones. Liquid descriptions capture and quantate a character within well-defined time frames. Such a description does not highlight specific incidents and churn out a gist of the subject's personality based on inferences drawn only and only from the highlights. It does not punctuate the stagnant or the radical components of one's nature, and neither does it merge the two to expound an ulterior motive. It's merely an as-is reproduction of the subjects malleable personality, from the commencement of observation, to its end. Note that by malleable personality, I only mean to imply that character is prone to change (in the subject's environment). The morphing of character is probable, but it's not writ in stone. A weather forecast for rain does not make it rain, but merely announces the possibility of a downpour.

I'm no theologian, but it's my observation that the living cannot be explained in terms of solid and consistent.  liquidity is the intrinsic property of life. Think about it. Every living thing is more or less fluid. If not manifest macroscopically , the fluidity is on a microscopic level, hidden from the naked eye. "The Juice of Life", to put it more colloquially. To ignore this underlying property when enunciating someone's personality, is perhaps a fallacy.

(inspired by Malcolm Gladwell, on the Fundamental Attribution Error, from his book, "The Tipping Point.")

Becoming an Introvert is Tough Work. No Kidding

All my life, I've wanted to be the invisible guy, but my actions and conduct have kept me in the limelight. "Keep a low profile" has been the longest standing resident of my vision boards. Just kidding. The only time of the year I make vision boards is a month before my annual exams. They're mainly doodles, writ with the very things I don't do, or ever plan on doing. They're useless. Could a means of procrastination be anything else?

I guess I'm never entirely honest with my work, my thoughts or my goals. In short, I'm not honest with myself. Honesty may be the best policy, but it is such a lacklustre task.

So like every year, I started this one with a hoodie pulled down low over my face (so as to avoid recognition) and a gait that got me out of crowds and the possibility of interaction. I'd avoid eye-contact 'cause, like Slim Shady puts it, "... If I do that, then it opens a door for conversation/ and like I want that...". And just like every year, despite the Aegis de minimis, I was as ubiquitous as ever, perhaps even more than before.

I can't pull off anonymity. I guess I don't have what it takes to be a social recluse. :j

The One where I Make no Sense

So basically I've had my beliefs cold-worked so many times, I'm kinda beginning to doubt my own opinions. The result is chaotic. When asked even a rudimentary question like 'what time is it?' there's a denotable lag time. It's even harder to cache information and knowledge, since consolidation of memory requires a personalized keynote trigger, which I'm unable to provide, handicapped by my own indecision and obvious lack of self-belief. It's like I'm an impression material that's snap removed before it's setting time, resulting In a useless impression, worthless material, wasted time and an annoyed patient. I'll need to adjust this as soon as I'm done with these exams.

Ramblings: What's My Age Again?

No one believes I'm 21! Not my friends, not my lil brother's friends, not my neighbours, not even my own parents! Just last week, I overheard mum compaining about my erratic sleeping habits, to which dad shook his head and snorted, saying, "Teenagers." Before that, mum, during one of her lectures,- I don't remember what started it... was it the wall hanging I'd ruined by spraying it with water from a hose (I was trying to spray the neighbour's cat) or the book end I'd broken (while trying to hit the same cat, after spraying water at it got boring)- said I was supposed to asct more mature, now that i was at the brink of my Tweens.
"But Mum, I'm 21!"
"No, you're not. That's your brother. And you should learn a thing or two from him." My brother. My younger brother. How do you argue with that?



It's commonplace to hear myself being described as the younger brother. Once, the old lady who lives upstairs in our block, asked me where my big brother was.
"You mean my younger brother. I'm older than him." I said. Heard that before.
"Really? You look like the younger one."
I wanted to say she was probably 500,000th person to point that out, but i just shrugged and said nothing.
"So my niece needs some advice regarding her extra-curriculars for 7th grade. You're in the 8th grade, right?"
"I'm in Dental school," I said, no longer making an effort to hide my exasperation.
"But didn't you just have your 11th birthday?"
"That was 10 years ago!"

I used to think it's because of the way I look, but it's not limited to just that. Take the phone call I received yesterday, for instance. This is how the conversation went:
Anonymous caller: "Hello, may I speak to Dr. Hadi?"
Me: "Sure! absolutely. You don't need my permission!"
Anon: "Umm... Who is this?"
Me: "Wait a minute... you're supposed to say 'Knock! Knock!' first."
Anon: "Uh kid, is there an adult around I can talk to?"
Me: "I'm 21!"
Anon: "Sure you are. I'll call back later."

To be honest, it's not that big a deal. It'll definitely play to my advantage sometime later, when my friends'll look... well, their age, and I'll still look like I'm in my twenties. 

What a weird thing to say... :o

-NH

Ramblings: Of Apes and Suicidal Rats

Human beings are weird. Ha! I didn't make a breakthrough there. It's more like someone saying  a milkshake is made of milk (is it, though?). Merely stating a fact. But what prompted me to make this statement is our ability to adapt to almost every definition of the word 'change'.

Of course, Darwin, well known for his affinity for apes, might argue that his great-great-great-great-great-keep adding 'great' for a little more-grandpa, who was an ape, was equally apt at adapting to changes in his surroundings. You gotta hand it to him. As the first ever Global Representative of the Ape population, he did more than just hand out bananas.

Coming back to the topic, one doesn't require a very high IQ (judging by the fact that even I figured it out) to see that change is part of our daily routine. No day is exactly the same as the following day, or the day before. For instance, take the pile of dirty laundry that sits in the middle of the room I share with my brother. It keeps getting bigger everyday. And smellier. Especially smellier. One time, it smelt so bad, like something had crawled under the pile and died. Afraid that we were hiding a dead body in our room, Mum had us clean it under her supervision. That's how we found the dead rat, with its head stuck in my bro's underpants. It must've been suicidal. Only the suicidal and insane (and the suicidally insane, obv.) mess with my bro's laundry, much less stick their face all the way in.

Kidding. There was no dead rat (it was a mouse). The point to remember here, is that small changes are  regular feature of our daily lives, and we hardly notice those. That shows malleability. And that I'm repeating myself 'cause I'm out words and brain cells.

Oh well. 'Til next time.

Perks of being messy: save up on anti-theft devices :P 

-NH

Ramblings: The Yearly Blog

My ridiculously long absences from this blog irks both me and my scant following. But it's reaped great suggestions from my friends. One of them said I should call it 'The Yearly Blog' since I post pretty much once each year. Another said, "How can you be so inconsistent?" and followed it up with, "You're so full of crap all the time." Two very good points.

Even though I'm kinda tempted to change the name of this blog to the suggested one, I won't. I like the current name. It makes absolutely no sense. I feel the name should reflect the kind of nonsense I post on this blog. Having said that, I might change the name, to something even more meaningless. Hey, it's not my fault, OK? My parents changed my name thrice too!

I have a lot of ideas for this blog. You see, I'm never short of ideas. My friends know that. They always come to me for 'em. Just a few days back, my friend Hasan wanted an instant cure for this really bad headache. I told him some fun facts about STDs that I'd just learnt in microbiology and then I showed him some really gross pictures of 'em. After a while, he said he felt sick, and swore (quite profanely) never to have sex. I got him to forget about his headache and even choose abstinence as the way to go. See what I did there?
I gotta admit, though. Sometimes these sparks of brilliance do backfire. Like when I tried to make up for my sleep debt, during AS level preps. I got straight Bs, my academic Lowest. The silver lining: I was wide awake, at my cognitive and functional best during the exams. With a profoundly empty head. Ok, really not much of a silver lining.

I kinda pulled an Eric Matthews there (Boy Meets World reference). :P

Coming back to the topic, I have a lot of ideas (read: stupid ideas) for this blog. So you might be seeing some changes soon. Or maybe not. I'm very very VERY lazy. Ok then. See ya next year! ^_^

Just kidding! Umm... there may be a chance I'm not, though. Gah! Whatever! :P

-NH

Ramblings: Dreams

I never had a dream. Whenever someone'd ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd laugh. Somehow, the idea of me growing up seemed hilarious. It still is. So I had no clue how to answer that question. With the laugh, I intended to tell whoever was asking that I'm too daft for intellectual grown-up chit-chat. I guess I got that across quite well. 'Cause almost always, the next question would be something about the weather or some TV show. And when even that turned out to be too much for me, the conversation finally stooped to topics of my interest. I'd take great pleasure in telling them about the black cat that loves decorating our lawn with its poop. I'd also throw in some interesting facts about cats, e.g. a cat can tell its waste apart from another's. The perfect dinner conversation. I have them so riveted they forget to eat the food in front of them. My parents don't seem to like it though. I guess it's because then there are too many leftovers to fit in the fridge. 

Frankly, I never believed I'd make it this far. What with the ever increasing crime rate, rise in terrorist attacks, the country riding down the Laffer Curve, shrinking job opportunities... I figured my chances were quite slim. Plus I'd stopped going to this martial arts school, so I half-expected waking up in the middle of the night to find an assassin holding a blade to my throat. In my head, that school was Nanda Parbatt and the League of Assassins was after me. It took me two years to realize they had their hands full with Batman and Green Arrow to be bothered about small fry like me. Still, I sleep with a butter knife under my pillow, just in case. I dunno why I bother at all. It's too blunt to cause major damage and I'm quite sure the assassins' won't let me off if I made them all buttered toast. Though if I made grilled cheese sandwiches.... I could convince them. My grilled cheese sandwiches are phenomenal. A bite is enough to kill anyone stupid or hungry enough to eat it. My dad uses my sandwiches as rat kill. I'm thinking about patenting it.

I guess not having a dream isn't that bad. Infact, I get to make it up as I go along. Plus, I think I'm pretty much done with all I wanted to do in life. Scratch that. I find new stuff to do everyday. Life really is, like Forrest Gump puts it, "a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." I just prefer living it rather than dreaming about it. ;)

dotya.4way.hu

-NH

Among the Firsts

This is a post from my first blog. It was actually supposed to be for the school mag but because of its length, I decided against submitting it. As most of my write-ups back then, it ended up on my blog. Thought I'd post it here too. :)

Something to write about: Doggone: You’ve probably heard of the proverb, “every dog has its day”. Well, I never thought I’d ever use it for a dog . The dog, in qu...

Of Sloths and Good Intentions

Sometimes, a good deed can make you wish you weren’t inherently nice. Like the time I took my 6 year old cousin to the zoo, as a favor for my aunt. It was all perfect until the kid told his mum excitedly about Mr. Eight. “Mum, It was so cool! Mr. Eight even showed us his testicles!”  It took half an hour to explain to his dazed mother that Mr. Eight was an octopus at the zoo and another half to convince her that her son meant ‘tentacles’ and no one had taught him that word. I have a feeling my aunt still doubts that I took her son to the zoo. And if my li’l cousin ever decides to recount what was happening in the baboon pen, I might never be allowed near kids anymore. It’s not my fault the baboons were in heat that day!

During my extended blogging hiatus, I’d been looking for inspiration, something to get me writing again. It was really just an excuse to put it off for a while longer. Annoyingly enough, I found plenty of inspiration. So I stopped looking and accepted the fact that I’d become a sloth. Somehow, being a sloth was even more tiring. Who knew thinking about doing something could be as exhausting as actually doing it? I sprained my wrist just thinking about playing tennis, and I don't even play tennis! It's possible that I'd broken the sloth code by aspiring to do something new and healthy, and my body was making sure it had the perfect excuse to avoid the exercise. Kinda like what my brother did to get out of gym class. I guess it was a blessing in disguise. When I did play tennis for the first time, I smacked myself in the face with the racket's frame. It hurt to even complain. :x

'cause tomorrow never comes. :P
momoryn.blogspot.com

-NH

Ramblings: Stupid is as Stupid Does

It's official: I'm dumb. 'til today, I did have some doubts but the last week has proved me wrong. I proved MYSELF wrong! Now, I'm convinced that if I was on the cast for ‘Dumb and Dumber’, my character would be "Dumbest". Of course that wouldn't have been possible 'cause I was only 1 when the film was released. At that age, I was the star of another show called "Growing up and Acting cute". The show was a success btw. Got excellent reviews from the only two viewers of my show, mum and dad. Then my brother came along and stole my spotlight.

If there was a time in my life that measured as my intellectual high, I guess it would be when I was seven. After that, my IQ just took a dip, and kept on dipping. Not that I had much of an IQ to begin with. Nuhuh. The only stuff I really racked my brains on was why Scooby Doo wore a dog costume (I just couldn’t accept the fact that he was really a dog), what the inside of a tap must look like to an insect, and what switched the light on and off in the fridge. That was a real puzzler. I didn’t figure it out ‘til I was thirteen (it’s definitely got something to do with the door).

What finally convinced me was taking a look at the many conversations I had over last week. Here are a few of them:

            “At one point in life, I even considered drugs…”
“Drugs? You don’t even know about drugs!” says Hasan in an exasperated tone.
“Sure I do.”
 “Oh yeah? Name one!”
“Ok. Pepsi.”

·        “I wanna become a lawyer when I grow up.”
“But you’re already in med school!” cries Sherzad.
“Which is why I said, ‘When I grow up’. Gosh, do you even listen to what I say?”

·        “What now?” says Khushhal.
“Wow, how’d you know?”
“You’ve got that stupid look again, the one you get when you’re racking your little brain real hard.”
“How do you know I only get that look when I’m thinking?”
*shrugs* “Well, you don’t do that very often.”

·         “You see, Kal-El is Jor-El’s son. The Kents are Superman’s foster parents. They’re not exactly related,” explains Saad.
“So Zod is Superman’s DAD?!”
“Seriously, man? Is that what you got from all this?”

·        Zainab texts: I hate guys. I don’t ever want to marry a guy!
I reply: Yeah, me too. Which is why I’m gonna marry a girl.

·        While playing DOTA (Defense Of The Ancients):
“Hah! He just stood there while the other team ganked him. Whattay noob!”
“Dude, I think that was your guy,” Says Khushhal.
“Impossible! I’m that flying donkey headed back for base.”
“That’s the Courier!”

It’s a miracle I made it through school. I finally believe people like Forrest Gump can exist in real life. :D

cultgirlahmadiyya.blogspot.com 

NH

Ramblings: Making Up for Lost time

I sleep like a log. Once I conk out, no amount of shaking or shouting can wake me up. I've slept through earthquakes, and I'm talking about real ones not the ones in movies that my brother likes to watch. The first time I slept at my cousin's place, they thought I'd died. I woke up just as they were lowering me into my grave. It was kinda disturbing. Everyone seemed quite happy about the whole thing. Two of my cousins were debating which Nintendo® character is best, while my second eldest cousin hummed “We will rock you” by Queen as he lowered me into the freshly dug pit. You know just how much you’re missed when you hear your brother saying "I call dibs on his iPod!"

Kidding. That never happened. But there was this one time when my school’s headmistress called up my parents, telling them to find me a rehab. After sleeping right through English, Math and Biology, my teachers had come to the conclusion that I was on drugs. Fortunately, my parents thought it was a prank call and my well rehearsed explanation wasn’t called for.

In my defense, I wasn’t always like this. As a kid, I had real trouble sleeping. I guess it mostly had to do with the fact that I slept in the top half of the bunk bed I shared with my brother, so my nose was just a foot away (or the length of a seven year-old leg, which is how I measured the distance back then) from the ceiling. I had this weird feeling that the ceiling inched closer each time I closed my eyes. Most nights, I stayed awake, determined not to let the ceiling get any closer. Then one similarly sleepless night, I had a better idea. When everyone fell asleep, I climbed down into my brother’s bunk and accidently pushed him off the bed, onto the cold marble floor. He didn’t mind. Eventually, it became routine. Me pushing him off his bed and him waking up each morning, on the floor. You’d think he’d take the hint after the first few times and switch bunks with me. He didn’t. Instead, he started sleep talking, but that's a story for another time.

I guess I'm making up for lost time. :P

NH

Be (The one)

Staring at a wall

With vacant eyes

An empty head is my disguise

I'm going on, but I can't see the point of it...

They leave me here

'Cause I'm ok

I'm starting to handle my own fears alone

And I'll be...

Be the one

To heal with time

Be the one

Blamed for your crimes

I'm starting to wonder if I had a say at all... at all

Hearing footsteps

Make me look back

I'll compliment you for your tact

Your lack of shame makes me wanna point it out

But you'll keep me here

'Cause you don't care

I love the way you justify yourself

When I'll be...

Be the one

To heal with time

Be the one

Blamed for your crimes

I'm starting to wonder if I had a say at all...

NH

Believe it or not, that's what got me to write this. :P
weheartit.com

Ramblings: Procrastination has no limits

It's been practically six months since I last hit the books and now the workload is a friggin' mountain. Just thinking about it makes me sick. I've been hovering around my books, lugging them around in my backpack, taking them with me for dinner. I even sleep with them. Why, you ask? Well, a friend of mine read this theory somewhere. When you put a piece of steel next to a magnet, over time, it becomes a magnet itself. Gets induced. Spend some time with your books, and you're bound to get induced too. In theory. After weeks of sleeping under a pile of books, I realize i'm not getting any smarter.

The next day, I tell him the induction thing isn't working for me. He smiles knowingly. "You’ve been using those short books," he says, as if that's supposed to make any sense.

"Oh... and I thought it was because I used paperbacks," I say, playing along. I've started to realize just how absurd the whole idea was. I mean, if magnet creates magnet, book creates BOOK! I feel so stupid. He has it all wrong and I-

"Nah, paperbacks work better," he says, disrupting my train of thought.

Oook, that’s new... "So what's wrong with short books?" I ask, before my bewildered expression prompts him into explaining this new tid bit. This whole concept goes way over my head and I could do without diving into the complexities.

"Well it's quite basic. A stronger magnet induces much quicker than a smaller, weaker magnet. Similarly, the bigger the book, the quicker it'll induce you to study." He gives me five minutes to work this out. I'm still trying to figure if I want to be a book for the rest of my life, when he asks, "Got it?"

"Kinda. Just haven't decided how many pages I want to have.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m on board with the whole becoming a book thing. It doesn’t seem too bad. I mean, I hardly ever go out, and I could finally be of some help. And after all, books are your best friends.” Saying it out loud actually convinces me. It feels good, making such a mature decision. I mentally pat myself on the back. Then I reach back and do it for real. Wait ‘til I tell mum. She’d be so proud!

My friend’s hysterical. He wears an expression that says “You just puked all over me.” Then it quickly warps into one that says “You ACTUALLY meant it when you said your favorite book is ‘Green eggs and Ham’?”  At times, he has such confusing expressions.

“What the heck, man? Pages? Become a book? I mean, wh- how can you pos- no, I-I completely lost you there,” he says, in an I-DID-NOT-watch-Star-Trek tone punctuated with notes of hysteria.

“It’s, like you’d say, quite basic. If magnet creates magnet, book creates book. I get the concept,” I explain, in a Klingon-is-universal tone. 

I glance over at him. His face seems all wrong. Like pixels breaking up on a TV screen. One of his eyebrows looks like it’s doing the Harlem Shake. I get the urge to add, “Of course, I had some reservations. OBVIOUSLY. But then the pros outweighed the cons, like I won’t need to worry anymore about getting a job, recession, crime rate, school, what happens in the next season of Supernatural… you know what? I’m starting to understand why more and more kids go missing each day. The worries of their lives force them to take drastic decisions, to escape this harsh, cold world.  Decisions like turning into books.”

Now I give him five minutes to work it out. He takes three.

“I am so not telling you about ANY new theories I come across,” he says finally. He reaches into his backpack and takes out an apple. “Now listen carefully. See that dirt on the ground?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens if i drop the apple into the dirt?”

“Umm... nobody eats it?”

“And?”

“It rots?”

“It gets dirty, goddamnit!”

“Oh, right! Dirty apple. Sorry!”

“Now let’s say you’re the apple. The books are dirt. You surround yourself with books, you’re bound to learn something from ‘em. So you’re still human, but one with knowledge. Just like a dirty apple is dirty, yet it’s still an apple. Following?”

“Yeah. Now I get it!” I flash him a smile.

“Thank God for that!” He says, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Just one thing.”

I hear my friend cracking his knuckles. “Uhuh.”

“When I become a book, what’s gonna be it’s title?”

***

Don't try this at home! :O

P.S.: If none of this made sense to you, that's because it wasn't supposed to. :D

http://healthyu.stanford.edu/images/sleeper.jpg

NH

How The Right Words Made it Last

Sometimes

It doesn't work, taking sides

Sometimes it just hurts to be alive

We're all waiting for the end

But meanwhile, I sit the fence...

Times a reckoning, I'll face it

Not mentioning the wrong I left back

The world's clock just ticks fast

Smothering the thoughts, that come too slow

To mind, To right

The wrong I didn't know...

A few seconds ago

Sometimes

It aint worth taking sides

Sometimes it just hurts to be alive

We're all waiting for the end

But meanwhile, I sit the fence...

It all boils to this, don't fake it

You're burdening yourself with this mess

Just let it out, just confess

Washing out the doubts that come to you

To blind, To hide

All that's wrong with you...

And you wished to be over this

You never wanted this mess

You always talk of regressing

But you digress, instead...

Sometimes

It aint worth taking sides

Sometimes it just hurts to be alive

We're all waiting for the end

But meanwhile, I sit the fence...

NH