Freedom is a weird thing. There was a time when there were parental restrictions annexed to living at home. They have lapsed now that I'm a working man and contributing to the family income. However, being 23 and having lived on my own terms (or fighting rules imposed by an authority) I'm used to a certain lifestyle I find unable to sustain at my parental home. Not because there are rules prescribing otherwise but rather out of respect for the other members of the family/environment I live in today. Its like there are no rules to break, but I'm aware of the responsibilities that exist and fulfilling my own wishes attaches a kind of guilt to it that I had never felt earlier, not even when I'd run away from campus to watch a concert in another city right in the middle of my exams.

There was no guilt, only a thrill of being wrong. I don't like feeling guilty. And wonder of wonders, I seem to care.

I'm too young to care. Atleast I want to be.

I met a pretty girl at the bus stop a couple of days back. I actually mustered the courage to go up and speak to her. Desperate, not reckless, is my middle name. But she was real sweet. The conversation turned pointless cause I didn't get her number (remember reckless is not my middle name) but I did get her name just as my bus rolled in. Was a first for me in terms of hitting on an unknown female. And it didn't turn out to be a complete disaster for my ego and self respect. Phew!

I miss getting high.

Its strange how people use the misfortune of others to express/advertise themselves and their feelings when it is totally unnecessary. Also to sometimes reveal how much they know or what they know, when frankly they know jack shit about the person concerned.

I think silence is frightening for most. And death is probably the heaviest silence of all.

To DVR. Goodbye yaar. I've only had good times with you. I hope you don't stop practicing that harmonica. Make it wicked and them notes they'll bend soon brother. RIP.