Note To Younger Self

Dear me,

Thank you for holding on, despite all the tragedies you've had to undergo. There are things which you probably should have done and things that you shouldn't have. But that's okay. Life goes on.

Love

Slightly Older and Wiser Me

Broken Social Scene

I don't need tinder 

I don't need facebook

I don't need the internet to find you

I'll find you in real life. 

You exist.

I've passed you so many times before.

Maybe we've glanced at each other.

You holding someone.

Me with someone else.

You exist.

I know you do.

You could be the one I've kissed while drunk.

You could be the one I've kissed completely sober. 

Out there in your world, I hope you think of me too. 

I hope you feel as deeply as I do.

I exist.

Only for you. 

Deep down I am a junkie. I get addicted to all sorts of things, activities, people etc etc. But I abandon my habit one fine day, just like that. I've been like that for years now. With time I have learnt to channelise my addiction to constructive things. Lately it's been working out. I am dying to get back in shape, be flexible like a freak because I want to have sex with someone, let him see me naked. It's exciting, my motivation. It's quite effective too. I mark my workouts on my calendar, went shopping for sexy fitness wear to wear during my workouts and what not.

It's taken me a long time but I've learnt to love myself, give myself some credit for pulling off the stunts of my past.

It feels almost comical to remind myself of my dendrite days, I'd like to think I've come a long way since.

But man o man, I was so incredibly addicted to dendrite. The first time I got high on dendrite was when I was at home one day. That was the first time I heard or one of the first times that I heard, In Utero. It was dreamlike. It was surreal, scary, grotesque and yet so comforting.

I've changed a lot since. I really have. Sometimes I can't relate to the person I was when I was 15/16. Why did I do the things I did, to get here, where I am today? 

My only addiction that still remains is probably dick. I went through a phase where I wanted Mister Mystery's dick inside of me 24/7. I never wanted him to pull out, for us to stop. It was a strange kind of addition. I almost relapsed into something similar with A. But dick is like heroin. It slowly kills you, sucks the life out of you in exchange of endless pleasure. 

Orgams.

I'm an orgasm junkie.

"I think I'm dumb. Or maybe just happy" 

Done By None

The older I grow, the more I am sure that dating men isn't quite my thing. I love dick, but I hate the person it comes attached with, usually almost always. The last person I was in a relationship of sorts with, scarred me beyond repair and somehow it's not even about him, all men are like that. At least almost all the ones I have been with so far in life. I don't get men, I just don't understand the way they think and function. First they chase you, woo you only because they want to sleep with you. It's good initially and then they have this obsessive need to look around elsewhere. You can be a goddess in bed and yet your will find it hard to control his roving eye. Why? I don't get why sex is so important for men, sex without any connection, without any intimacy. I need to feel connected to the person I am having sex with, how can I have good sex otherwise? I probably won't even orgasm.
Why can't women orgasm as easily as men?

I have often dated people who I have been obviously too good for and yet it is they who have treated me like shit. It's a little absurd when I think of all the vile things people have done and said. But why? Why are men so cruel?
I'm done with men. All of them. I'm sick and tired of pining after guys only to have them crush my heart into pieces. I think I have been going about this all wrong. I need to find me a good woman with the same relationship goals as me.

Your loss, men of the world.
I could have been the best you've ever had, but you missed your chance.

Something In The Way

With so many new projects in the offing, I'm slowly starting to get into a groove of sorts. It feels quite fantastic to play my music with people I've looked up to growing up. This is real. This is my life and I'm doing something I've always wanted to. I took a big risk, my world is at stake. I don't know if any of this will work or not, but I'm not in this for the power, popularity or the fame. 

I could do this for the rest of my life, playing my songs with people who get me. 

Some money along the way would be good too though. 

Replay.

I wake up with a hangover. I check to see the contents of my phone. No embarrassing pictures, no drunken texts to anybody. Thank god. I remember playing M's telecaster, jamming with the guys on a new song they've been working on for the last couple of weeks. I am surprised by how much I've grown over these last few years, quite quickly in fact. I think of the young starlet and her desperation to fit in, to be accepted. I feel bad for her since I've never had to go through a phase of not being liked by anybody. That's probably because I've been serious and humble all my life. I don't do the page-3 scene. I have talent, like many others. But what I have more than others is probably self-respect, when it comes to my work. I want to reach out to her, sit her down and advice her to pick up the pieces and turn her life around. But I don't think she'd like that very much. Sometimes you have to let people learn from their own mistake, you cannot guide everybody all the time.

I don't understand arrogance, what causes some people to be so incredibly proud of having achieved so little. It turns me off. I guess I'm allowed to be a snob about these things because I've seen and worked with greats from a really young age and when you grow up watching someone like Amyt Dutt and Jivraj Singh play, you realise how inconsequential your achievements really are. You are a great big nothing in comparison. What's so inspiring about all these greats is their humility, their grace. I am in awe of them, I want to emulate them somehow. I feel grateful to be surrounded by all these individuals who I have so much to learn from.

I crib about my daily struggles to someone who's produced all the greatest bands and artists you've probably heard. Starting from Jerry Garcia to Nirvana to Radiohead. When people like that advice you, guide you, you have a tremendous amount of pressure on your back to do something with your life instead of fooling around. I guess grace is something that people from other cities will never know. But I think of how me and my friends are at a juncture where people are starting to take us seriously. It's intimidating, their expectations. I'm not a wonder kid with spunk anymore, I need to engage women and the youth to think and practise thinking instead of taking what they have for granted.

On my way to the restroom, I see a bunch of kids sitting around, whispering excitedly as they see me pass. I hear someone murmur my name. How do they know my name? They seem to be in awe. I glance at them, I expect they're looking at me because I look hot (got to pull out a few sexy tricks out of the bag once in a while to stay relevant!) but that is not the case, they give me the 'Oh there goes Suyasha didi' vibes. I am flattered and quite amused. I also feel responsible all of a sudden. I should be able to influence these kids, teach them the importance of being humble and hardworking.
I need to work harder. I need to be more dedicated perhaps.

My band has been in the spotlight since the release of our debut album but that's really nothing if you think about it. I have my body of work on record and I am proud of it, definitely. Yet somehow it is not enough.

I have been working harder since the release of the album. Exploring new genres and styles, trying to create more music, better music.
I am excited about the new projects that I've been working on. The harder I work, the more I practise, the more self confidence I seem to have. The line between confidence and arrogance is a thin one. My reality check comes when people I've grown up idolising want to play music with me. It feels strange, almost like I high. But it's a scary feeling.

"What if I play wrong chords?"
"What if I sing off-key?"
"What if I can't deliver?"

I ask M if I can play his guitar. He brings out his amp instead of poking fun at me. We exchange guitars and he teaches me to play his song and I sing along as he plays one of his older tunes. He's the sweetest guy you'll ever meet if you can get past his obnoxious outer layer. I love how he's so incredibly sweet to people he likes and such a bitch to people he doesn't. There is so much to learn from him. People need to cut him some slack I think, especially those who don't know him or have never hung out with him.
This Calcutta clan is tight as ever, almost like a family now. I am one of the youngest in the brat pack and I love every minute of it. I feel safe, protected. This is something that I have been craving for for a long time now-acceptance for who I am, without having to pretend.

I had very predictable reactions of my set from those who came in last night. The audience loved it, that's not the point though. The audience will love anything as long as you play from your heart. That isn't even a criteria for me anymore. But I've still got to fine tune, smoothen the creases. There's so much work still left.

I want to work my ass off these next two months and then take a vacation, which I am hoping will involve some drugs. I need to squeeze some sex in there as well, I don't know how but I have to. I have two frickin months to find someone I like and want to have sex with. That's the one thing I need to keep me rooted, down on the ground.

Sex really is my biggest stress buster. I have said this many times before, I am a very sensual person by nature. When I'm writing a song or playing a gig or even practising, it is like fornication for me. It is sacred, the experience is deeply personal. I guess that's why I am so attracted to music, it's basically like fucking for me.

Anyway, two months to find a new squeeze. Challenge to self accepted.

Young Drunk Punk reprise

In 2014 I had a rather rude awakening. There are no female musicians in my age group (?)

I don't understand why chicks don't pick up instruments and play the fuck out of them. It makes me so incredibly angry. I refuse to be the girl who "sings" in a band and looks pretty. I am a musician. I write my songs. By writing I don't mean vocal melodies and lyrics alone. I compose. I arrange. I paint the whole picture, not merely add shades to them. 

My les paul has somehow changed me as a musician. I'm playing better guitars. I'm writing better guitar parts, focusing more on layers. It's fucking inspiring as fuck.

My new songs are raw, grotesque. I want to explore and exploit this new state of mind. My life is as Indian punk as it gets. Neo-Indian punk. 

I finished tracking guitars (about 4 layers, mind you) and vocals for a new song today and although it's just a scratch, I feel a strange sense of excitement, of bigger things to come. 

I have been working my ass off for as long as I remember and like a phoenix, I shall rise again. It is only a matter of time.

Brace yourself world, this  young drunk and punk girl will hit the right spot. I can sense it. 

My Head, My Rules

I have been working out religiously these last few weeks and even if it doesn't show just yet, I feel so incredibly good about my body these days. Truth be told, I had let myself go and I think I reached my melting point when I'd see how ugly I was starting to become. Fat in all the wrong places, so unfit, so inflexible. But I have sworn to myself that I will not let my body go there again, it's a scary place and sometimes there's no coming back when you get there. I'm young and I refuse to let my youth go to waste like this. Shit happens but you've got to pick yourself up and get back on the road again.

I am excited to let someone see me naked, see how lean I've become. I want someone to enjoy my body, pleasure it. I don't know who and I don't know when just yet but I am looking forward to it, yes.

I make all these rules as I grow. The latest one being to not let people fall in love with me. People fall in love very easily and that kills me sometimes because I can't seem to reciprocate. This is exactly why I hate dating boys. They're much too naive, too young. They fall in love at the drop of a hat, just like I fall for older guys. It's a perpetual love triangle.
I may be a brat but I have a heart, I don't want people to undergo unnecessary misery because of me. I have been in similar situations where I've been strung along and trust me, it's not a good feeling. I hate it when people charm your pants off and then leave you stranded. I hate it. I don't want to be that person to someone else. I refuse to be a villain. I refuse to be the bad guy just for kicks.

But anyway, coming back to my body. I feel good. I feel great. The more I work out, the more I start loving my body and subsequently myself. It's the greatest romance I think-to love yourself.
I have battled body issues for a long time, since the rape to be precise and these days I don't feel inhibited or conscious to let people see me naked anymore. I give myself a pat on the back for that. Sure I still have body issues, but there are other things, bigger things in my life that I worry about these days.

It's not really a milestone, although it is something.

Seasons Change

It's hard to wake up in the morning when you have depression. It's hard to focus on things, do something constructive.
There's a voice that tells me that it's not worth it, I'm not good enough and that I am going to waste away-nameless, faceless, without having done anything commendable with my life. Sometimes it's hard to shake that voice off and prove it wrong. So I stay in bed. I keep my eyes closed. I dream of a different life, a happier one.


Living with depression has taught me to be strong, but it becomes so incredibly tiring after a point of time. Years have passed, years will pass, but my depression does not go away. It has crawled so deep into my skin that I am afraid of letting it go. What if I lose my strength if my depression goes away?

I wait patiently for the mania to strike, I crave for it like an addict. I am ready to spend an infinite amount of time in pain for that one moment of euphoria. I am the worst kind of addict there is. Sometimes I wish my parents had in fact checked me into a rehab, instead of just contemplating. Maybe I would have turned out different then.

I am a little bit crazy.
But my soul is clean.
I wish someone would atleast try to get to know me.
Unfortunately, people fall in love too easily.

I Bruise Easily

My body is a piece of art, a canvas.
You draw your pictures,
with love and with vengeance.
My body is all I have to offer to you.
I cannot give you my heart for I know you'll break it eventually.
Like you've done so many times before.
Over and over and over again.

I'm lying on the floor today.
Crying.
Replaying memories in my head.
I'm bleeding it out, like always.
You came.
You left.
I lay all along, waiting for you to finish and maybe tell me how much you love me.
But you didn't.
I couldn't feel your love, as much as I wanted to.

I wish things didn't have to be this way, but I place a stone on my heart, cage it, lock it, keep it tucked away safe. No one can hurt me now. I am invincible.

I will cry every day till I get conditioned to the pain, but I will never let my weakness show.

My body is his now.
My body is hers now.
My body is theirs now.
My body is everyone's now.
Because there is no such thing as making love, it's all a great big lie. You may have duped me once, but I've learnt my lesson. I will never forget.

Stone Cold

You're sober as a child, it feels strange. You're in highschool, almost. When did intoxicants take over your life, your sex life to be more precise? It's awkward, it's highly awkward. You make all the wrong moves, he pushes all the wrong buttons. It's a mess. But something tells you to keep going, maybe it won't be that bad, you just need to calm your nerves. You feel a strange sense of pressure, you assume he does too. He kisses you and this time you remember. You remember the details. You kiss him with grace, you're not a drunken mess this time. You're finally in control of your body as is he.
Your brain takes photographs of his body. He's tall, you stand on your toes to reach his face.You enjoy the challenge. He's also older than anyone you've ever been with. It's strange and yet quite comfortable.
Little by little, your inhibitions drop. Your body may be flawed, but your body is all you have to offer to him.
You kiss him, see what works and what doesn't. He's very different from the last person you were with. He enjoys your body, but doesn't tear it apart like a wolf. He grabs you and you want it as much as he does.
You like it.
You crave for more.
So wet, as he slips his fingers into you.
You can't believe you're doing this, but it feels good. Now you can't seem to stop, you want him inside you, to fuck the shit out of you.
The feeling is good,
So good.
You had almost forgotten how good it felt.

Shame

I thought about the Monster today, after a long time. I remembered that sinking feeling in my stomach. I'd wait for hours and hours for him to call, but he never did. I called him, always. But why did he string me along?
Why would a teenager, an adult ever be interested in a 12 year old girl?
His perversion haunts me till date.
Why would he stick his dick inside me knowing fully well that I was in love with him and that I knew nothing about sex?

But the older I grow, the more I find the Monster in every man I meet. They all turn out to be the same, the way they look at me, the way they touch me, the way they abandon me.

Are all men monsters?
Will I ever find a man who will treat me right, not abandon me?

I'm so sick of falling in love. I take one step forward and retract immediately. Out of shame, out of so much gut-wrenching shame. I'm never good enough. Nobody wants someone with as much baggage as me. I feel sick. Sometimes I feel like killing myself. That feeling's been growing every day.
I have a friend or two who distract me, keep me company. But they can't be with me at all times, can they? They have their own lives and their own set of problems to take care of.

I spend hours trying to figure out what will stop men from abandoning me. I think that is what hurts the most, when they abandon you after they're done taking what they want from you. It feels like my life is stuck at the same juncture, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to break away from it. Everything is a loop. Everything is a loop.

Sometimes I wonder why I wasn't raped violently and killed after. It would have been so much easier. Living is so hard. Living alone is so hard. Living alone with so much shame, so much pain. I try to be so strong all the time, but I'm 23 and I can't do this anymore. I can't figure out how to stop this sinking feeling in my stomach and make it go away. I don't know how to make the choking go away.
At the end of the day, when I take a look in the mirror, I can't figure out why men do what they do. I have flaws, many many flaws, but are they the reason I'm abandoned?

I was born the way I am. I did not chose my body. Is it my fault I look the way I do? Is it my fault I get abandoned? Perhaps. Maybe I deserved to get raped. Maybe I will get raped again someday. Worse, maybe I will keep getting my heart broken by men I fall in love with and place my trust in. That's what ugly people get perhaps. I always figured that a good heart and a good soul was all you needed to get people to like you. But this world is cruel, it doesn't work that way. I'm not cut out for this world, it only brings me endless melancholy. I am an outcaste and always will be. I'd much rather die than live each day as a dead man, like this.

I want to die soon. I can't live with this pain anymore, it's killing me from the inside.

Death, come to me, I wait for you. Please.

I am not a believer and yet I pray every day now. I don't pray for a better life. I don't pray for the pain to go away, the shame to fade. I only pray for death. I want to die. I can't be strong anymore. I've been fighting this feeling over a decade now and it will never really go away. The last person I was with brought it all back. I can't deal with this heartache anymore. I hope the universe will be kind and listen to my prayers someday. I don't mind a long and painful death, I will be happy knowing that it will end one day.
I just want to die.
Only my death will bring me salvation.

Lover's Spit

It crawls onto your skin, slowly and stealthily, covering every inch of you gradually. It's a layer that encompasses you, a bubble that traps you. You try hard to break out, but you can't. No matter how hard you try, it always follows you around like a shadow.

What triggers it? What causes your eternal melancholy to keep coming back to you? 

Is it because you're lonely and unwanted? Is it because you're unloved? Or both? 

You wonder if anybody will ever miss you if you're gone. You contemplate running away from everything and everyone you know, to a remote beach somewhere and work as a daily wage labourer perhaps. 

But you can't let go of your lifestyle. You probably can't rough it out like you think you can.
It crushes you how bothered you are about the fact that what could have been your first international gig fell through because the damn funding never happened. You grow jealous and weary of the more affluent who seem to have the world at their fingertips. You blame your government, you blame your indifference, but mostly you blame your luck for never being by your side.
Tough love.
Tough love is what it's all about. You learn to let go. Better things come to those who are patient, those who persevere.

You go out on a date, your first in over a year. You wonder if he's thinking about you at the exact same moment as you describe to someone what went wrong with you two. You keep it short, detail-less. You've never been one to kiss and tell and you're not changing that about yourself anytime soon.  You don't want to know about him, he's done. The aching heart isn't in fact aching anymore. That empty feeling in your stomach is replaced by what could potentially be a bad hangover.
Hangovers, the worst hangovers over an aching heart. Any day.

Your date is courteous enough to message you the morning after. So it did happen then, you did stick your tongue in his mouth. Or was it the other way round? You can't remember.
You remember kissing him, holding him. You remember him kissing you and holding you.
You had forgotten how good it felt to kiss someone. Was it a good kiss? Was it a bad kiss? You can't remember. There are hickies on your neck which you don't remember getting. Did you leave some on him too? Something tells you that he was the catapult you were looking for.
You smile to yourself trying to recollect the incidents of the previous night. Being single can be fun sometimes, it's not always I-hate-myself-and-want-to-die.

You initiate a conversation with J for the first time in weeks. You chuckle at the thought of a clueless white guy getting hammered on Old Monk. You want to meet him too. You've been stalling for too long. You tell yourself that you will go out with him on a date the next time he asks.
Going on dates can be fun. You need to do this, for yourself.

You stop wondering if he still thinks about you. 
Plenty of fish in the sea. You know it's true.

Why It's Good, no, Best To Quit Facebook

1. People who you like will eventually start acting like assholes, you will loathe their sheer existence at some point and then "unfollow" them because you don't want to be the bitch who unfriends people randomly.

2. Facebook celebrities will kill your drive to actually go out and do something with your life. If a person who is not a public figure (legit model actress musician etc etc) and has over 500 followers and likes on their profile picture, chances are they will make you question everybody's sanity and the level of stupidity the world has come down to.

3. Girls who proudly flaunt pictures of them pouting and looking hot like that's how they look everyday. That shit aint real, who you fooling bitch?

What's worse is when they caption their photograph with quotes and lyrics which have no connection with their pictures.

4. Hipsters flaunting their tastes in music."Have you heard this producer from  Ethiopia bro? He plays povertytrance" No bro I haven't. Go take your hipster sensibilities and shove it up your ass. 

5. Even bigger assholes who proclaim their love for Yo Yo Honey Shit instead of being ashamed of it. This applies particularly to annoying juniors from school and college who's friend requests you shouldn't have accepted in the first place.

6. Pseudo stoners who post pictures of the joints they made out of the shittiest weed one could imagine. True stoners keep shut about their addiction, you poseur assholes! 

7. The ones (like me) who hate on everything and every one. I hate the government. I hate your band. I hate myself and want to die etc etc

8. Overtly-optimistic cunts with "gud morning" type status updates. Good morning? More like গুদমারানি! 

9. People with embarrassingly bad grammar. Get off your computer and attend an english grammar class or something you bunch of wanks. Your parents did not work to put you through a fancy english-medium school for nothing. Have some respect for your teachers who tried to turn an ape into a human. 

10. "Wanna friendship?" Enough said! 

Dj KittyKat

My homies and I were lamenting the fact that DJs are pretty much kicking us in the crotch and taking away our gigs. The new trend of colleges welcoming rave festivals at their fests to support/promote the same is rather alarming and very heartbreaking. 

It's one thing to host EDM festivals. But to play at college fests is nothing less than stupid and arrogant. My beef is not with producers who take the pain to make their music, I have a problem with all the wannabes pressing their spacebar and randomly fiddling with the faders on their board like they even know what they are doing.

It takes years and years of practise and hardwork to learn and master an instrument. A band puts in hours and hours of practise to sound good. But for what? There's always going to be a dick promoter who will book a DJ instead of a band just because it's cheaper and there is less hassle.

Of all the things that I hate about Calcutta, I hate how we're taught from a young age to be humble and respect other artists. But honestly, the more I travel outside, the less respect I have for some artists who are so busy being famous and making money that they forget why they're on stage in the first place. I hate people who take shortcuts. Being smart and being a cunning asshole are two very different things. 

Would you ever pay money to a tailor to perform surgery on you? Then why would you pay a guy with a macbook and a mixtape to be an artist at your event, isn't that musicians are for?

I attended the Bonobo concert last year in Mumbai and I don't know if it was the drugs or the band, but I had a great time. I am a huge fan of Simon Green's, but I probably would have skipped the gig had it been a dj set. It doesn't move me, to see some dude up on stage alone doing practically nothing. I'd rather sit at home and read a book, or better play the ukulele to relax and unwind. 

If you want to dance and have a good time then why not stay at home, invite your people and play your favourite CD! Why pay tickets to go watch someone repeatedly press their spacebar and pretend like it's so much work! 

I've been pushing myself to become a better musician over these last few years. I'm teaching myself to play more musical instruments and produce my music. Believe me, that is a lot of work! I'm not even taking into account the vocal practises and band practises which literally break my back sometimes. But for what? 

It's bad enough that I have very few role models because women are more interested in being glamorous and not enhancing their skills. What's worse is how the very few women who do take music seriously almost never come into the spotlight. The Indian media is strange and rather shamelessly chauvinist. 

Sometimes I think I could just change into my hotpants, a crop top and be a DJ, sell the default sex appeal that I have as a woman. 

If I were a DJ, I'd be DJ KittyKat.

But if I were to become a DJ, please don't hesitate to shoot me in the head. 

New Beginnings/Closure

It's the little things in life, like waking up to a message and maybe your heart skips a beat. That sinking feeling caused by someone else starts to fade slowly. You learn to pick yourself up with time. Start over.

This is pretty much the third time J's asked me out on a date, nothing fancy, just drinks perhaps. It's not even a date sort of a date, but I've been stalling it every time. He's incredibly attractive and quite the brains too. Almost too perfect, too good to be true.

I am so incredibly scared. What if we don't click? What if he doesn't like me? What if we run out of things to talk about? Will there be a second date if I were to accept? 

I want to take it slow this time around, I don't want to drop my clothes right away, my guard with it.

We never talk about romance or anything romantic. He doesn't flirt, neither do I.

Is this how adults initiate something? A relationship or a friendship perhaps? I spend my day on my own, doing my things. But it's nice to have someone to talk to, about random things when I'm feeling lonely. Politics, sports, the economy, sociology etc etc.

The thought of fucking him doesn't cross my mind as much as having a deep, intellectual conversation with him does. 

Am I growing up, into a woman? Isn't this how ladies behave? Random hookups don't excite me anymore, fooling around is for kids. I'm looking for something real this time. I want fidelity, I want security. I don't want steamy sex if it comes at the cost of feeling abandoned afterwards.

Being the child in a relationship has brought me a lot of pain and honestly it is all my fault because I have been making all the wrong choices. I pick someone who is completely wrong from the start, thinking I can change them, thinking my love will change them. But it almost never works. "Time is a flat circle" and people keep doing and redoing the same things over and over again, nobody ever changes.

I met someone the other day who reminded me of myself a year or so back. It's lovely when someone makes you dream of the glorious future, but I pray that she stays safe and he treats her right. A precious flower, hope he doesn't crush her and abandon her, like they've done to me. I want to tell her to be strong and brace herself incase she is thrown into a storm but I think she'll learn and grow on her own anyway.

I envy some people. Their lives are simple and they are happy. Stupid people are always happy because they don't think too much. I wish I could be stupid for a day, maybe I'd be happy too.

The initial stages of attraction are always the greatest. You know you're going to fall in love eventually, it's only a matter of time

But I'm going to be strong this time. I will toughen up by choice. I am tired of crying myself to sleep and having my heart crushed to bits.

I want to be with someone who loves me and treats me right. My demands are simple. But I'm not going to compromise this time around.

I deserve something great, if not the best. I didn't kiss all the frogs for nothing, get scarred by them. 

Young Drunk Punk

Baby steps,
one by one.
I'll only talk to you if you talk to me.
Ask me questions.
And I'll answer.

We're all so lonely,
trying to find someone to hold on to
For comfort.
Across continents and different time zones.

What if we never meet again?
Will you remember my face?
What else will you remember?

Baby steps this time around,
I can't keep making the same mistakes over and over again.
You teach me how to love myself
And I'll bare my soul to you one day.

Let's talk about this city.
Let's solve its mysteries.
Lets fall in love.
A cross-cultural love affair.
Torrid and passionate.
You keep me safe.
I'll keep you sane.


But I don't want to rush anymore
I have all the time in the world to find you
I know you're out there somewhere
For me.
Just for me.

50 Shades of Meh.

I don't get what the hype is all about, honestly. I tried to read the book and it put me to sleep, especially the "bdsm" bits.
I am a huge fan of dominance and subordination. I wonder if that makes me some kind of a pervert, yet I can't help but enjoy it.
What sexually active woman will not get excited at the thought of being roughed up a little. Women are not the doe-eyed sacrificial lambs they pretend to be, they like it dirty as much as men do. Well definitely some, if not all.

I like a man who takes control behind closed doors. I can't help it. I don't want to mother a virgin, I enjoy men, not boys. Sex like that is energising, more satisfactory. Vanilla is good, vanilla is great for everyday life. But why not shake things up a little sometimes?
A was a spanker and it was quite the departure from what I expected from him. He would like to spank me little, once or twice before we did it from behind. His palms reigned firm blows on my cheeks, I'd cry out. Moan. He'd check to see if I had become embarrassingly wet. Usually, it did. It turned me on instead of angering me or making me run for cover. I wanted more, never said no. It became a habit for us to do it so incredibly rough and hard and then balance it out with some vanilla after. It's weird how being punished made me feel more turned on than freaked out. It's liberating to be spanked sometimes. But not jokingly, pansily. Firm, strong, painful strokes.
The greatest pleasure is always in pain, always. You have to be very strong, only then can you truly enjoy pleasure. Like the act of having your body ravaged. Letting somebody scratch lines on your back, making you bleed a little. If it feels good, then it's got to be right. Right and wrong are rather relative.

Good girls go to heaven and bad girls have the best sex.

Cuff me, collar me, blindfold me, gag me, asphyxiate me, spank me, cut me, fuck me. Keep it real. We are animals at the end of the day. Civilisation is a myth, it's all for survival. Pleasure prompts survival. Do your bit.

I cannot recollect the number of orgasms I've had every time I've been handled with firmness. Almost too firm, too rough. I'm a thin girl, a man should have the ability to throw me around a little sometimes, use a little force to overpower me perhaps. A man knows the fine line between being dominant and rape-y. I like trusting a man. The sex is always better that way.
I'm a lioness, I am wild.
I don't care about the size of your dick. I judge you by what you do with it. You can have the biggest dick in the world and yet it wouldn't be enough to satisfy me. I need you to take control of my body, use it at your will, for your pleasure once in a while.