Existence

I am nothing.
I belong nowhere.
And yet, I am infinite.
I am the universe.



In my dream there is a beach, the sun and him. He says things I do not understand. But I remember his touch, the way he kissed. His hair, golden, shines in the light. I hold him. I hold him for a long time, I don't want to let go.
I am a monster in real life. We swim, we have a picnic of sorts. I love how his dog licks my face. For a second I wonder if I can pull this off for the rest of my life. Him, his dog, me and the sea.
I am a coward. I run every time things start to get a little bit serious, more concrete. He forgives me, he is pure like the water we swim in. There is no cruelty in his eyes, there is only love.
I run forward and run back. Back to him, for solace.

Mon cœur, je suis désolée..

You sometimes like instructions,

You like having no control.

And then you switch.

The hunted becomes the hunter, the lamb becomes the lioness.

It's not like how it was with him.

You're dry like the Sahara, so far away from the climax.

Abandon ship, abandon all hope. 

You want him, you know you do.

You want him one more time to fix all that was broken. 

But you no longer exist for him, you silly little girl.

Rigor Mortis: Review of 2016

The noise outside is starting to get to me, mess with my sanity. It's so loud, so loud. It's always SO loud. I want to shut my ears and make it all go away. But things are worse within. I want the voice in my head to shut up, even if for a second.
While I'm determined to finally stop fooling around and get to work on my record, I'm wondering if it's worth it, to sort of martyr myself for the sake of my art. I have been tracing the patterns lately and it all seems so futile. Music keeps me from killing myself. as incredibly clichéd as that may sound. But I don't know anymore if that's the way it really is or if that's just the clinical depression rearing its ugly head.
Too many pimps around me, too many whores.
I don't belong. I can never belong. It's not like I want to.
Living in Calcutta shields me from the ugliness of money, it frees me from the constant pressure of being relevant. I do not seek validation through my art, I only want to express. I only want to feel.

The work on Songs About Lovers hasn't even started and yet I am already so emotionally drained from trying to find a way to give voice to my innermost thoughts. I'm picturing it as having sex; letting go of all my inhibitions, breaking all walls within. I don't care how the world perceives me. If they don't ask the right questions then they'll never really know who I am, what I stand for. At this point in life and love, I have nothing to lose. So I guess I'm going to try to be as honest as I possibly can. It's a struggle because I'm jaded beyond repair. But that's not an excuse. This is something that I have to do for myself, this is something that I need to do for myself.

This year may not have been as adventurous as the last few but it feels like I've finally been able to slay a lot of my demons. I lost the plot somewhere in-between and maybe that was the best thing that could have happened to me.

Acceptance brings a strange sense of calm, comfort. I no longer feel the need to try and hide all that crazy. While I did, for the longest time, run away from the whole rape thing, I know now that I can never really discard the memory, pretend like it never happened. Because it did. Life is not Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where you just erase the memories that cause you pain. This is much deeper; a sort of foundation of  my strength, all my courage.
I was going about it all wrong all this while.
When I faced him a decade later, to prove a point to myself about being strong and invincible, I was hiding behind a false sense of normalcy. No, it's not normal for a 12-year old to be abused by someone. It's not normal that my first sexual act was statutory rape. It has obviously fucked me up in ways from which I will never recover. I'm never going to be "normal" and you know what, that's alright. While it may have scarred me for life, it's something that makes me want to be a better person every damn day. It makes me want to spread love into a world which could definitely do with more kindness. There's no such thing as too much love.
13 years later, I no longer demonise every partner, every lover that I have. Maybe I did go through a bad patch, but it's becoming easier to love and trust every day. Because I'm starting to love and trust myself too. It amuses me when I scare people by being my true self. I don't know who else to be, how else to be. In all my flaws and all my glory, here I stand before you, world. Here I am, no mask of pretence, no fakery. It may not always be a pretty picture but my demons are a strange kind of beautiful. I am not going to hide them under the carpet anymore. I no longer feel ashamed.

"freedom was just another word, for nothing left to lose"

It's true. This is the most aloof I've ever been. Maybe my detachment will only grow the older I get. It's okay though. I'm going to be okay.



While it seems like a man caused a lot of heartbreak in the recent past, it wasn't really his fault. It was never about him anyway. I was more broken by the fact that I chose to give my love and attention to somebody who simply didn't want it. Like many others, like me, he ran because he was scared of falling in love. I've wasted a lot of energy hiding behind a stone-cold, horny exterior. But who I am trying to fool. The minute I sense something potentially permanent and monogamous with someone, I run in the opposite direction too. It's because stability and the permanence scare me. The past has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I feel vulnerable, so I protect my heart fiercely.
So in many ways, this man was a sort of mirror to my own patterns, my own flaws. Who am I to make a villain out of somebody who is just like me!
The sex too, this year, was mediocre at best. I have gotten quite good at understanding and satiating my needs. After all the mindless fucking, I no longer have the will to have sex with someone just for the sake of it. I would rather stay home, masturbate and climax. My partner can never understand my energy if they're not looking for intimacy. Nobody wins because the pleasure is only superficial that way. There is no groundbreaking orgasm for either of us.
Believe me, I've had some intense sex in this lifetime and I know that it exists. I am no longer willing to compromise. I want quality and not just quantity. 

I have reached a point in life where it is essential to climax, to finish what I start. Otherwise it's a waste of my time. I am done chasing, it was never my thing. You have to come to me. I'll give you all my love and all my soul. I will not kiss any more mouths till I find something real. I may have fucked up a lot this year, not anymore.
I am no longer afraid of love. I am no longer afraid of heartache. I may not be able to fit in everywhere and that's more of a good thing than bad. It's a little bit scary to know that I will not be easily understood and that's something I'll just have to learn to deal with.


Speaking of scary, the maternal instincts have been kicking in lately. It's funny how normal for most is often bizarre for me. I have never pictured myself as a caregiver, but there have been strange cravings lately. The need to do something more fulfilling with my life. Yes sure the debauchery is great, what next? What is rock n' roll? I love being on the road and having all these adventures but there are times when I wonder what it would be like to eventually have a baby. Will I ever be a mother, do I want to ever want to be a mother? Motherhood is not just the process of birthing and raising a child, it is an instinct. One that I cannot escape. As my body clock starts to make its urgency felt, I realise now that these are things I'll have to think about eventually. Running away is futile.

The moment you work out all your mommy and daddy issues, the brain rewires itself into getting fixated on strange things. Levelling up on the video game-like simulation that is your life.


Thankfully there is too much on my mind at the moment, too much to be done, to ponder over the possibilities of the future. Time has never been kind, but it exists only because of my conditioning. Every thing in the universe has a rhythm to it, even the future. I have to be patient and wait for whatever life has in store for me.

2017 will see the little girl grow up a little bit more. This transition into womanhood is scary but I'm taking my time, easing into it till it perfectly sets into my bones. 25 years baby, I've survived. There's no way in hell I'm giving up so easy, without a fight.
I know there's more.
The best is yet to come.
Faith/fate.