Officially ending this...

I call it Princess Syndrome. It's where you are that girl who waits for eons and eons to find that special "prince" who will sweep you off your feet to a distant kingdom. You don't want to be be queen, oh no, you want to be the princess.

My Mom and Dad never called me their princess. The joke was a girl could be anything on the third rock from the sun, but not a princess unless her Mommy/Daddy were crowned royalty. Never had Princess Syndrome back in grade school, never felt it in high school. But it swept me off back in the end of my undergrad days.

My fantasy is five times screwier than Pulp Fiction and Fight Club combined. Let's check the parameters shall we?

• Fourth child of Scandinavian Royalty
• Has a uberly appealing piece of body guard/ hunk
• Are together
• Need a female to seem normal
• But ultimately they want to be together.

This isn't a fantasy, it is pure madness. And the funny thing is I know it is madness, but I keep on delving deeper into it. What's a 20-someting to do when she ain't got no looks, no grades, no money and absolutely no viable talent/utility? If have to live in my head sometimes, then it better be a mad one where nothing ever makes sense.

Stockholm Syndrome - 2nd edition

My Strategy course started this all. This blog was a result of two consecutive all nighters followed by a really bad presentation and an even worse day of tears, fears and all the negatives packed inside 6 hours.

I had to call it quits over one of the finest specimens of males on my side of the platter. No, it's not about trying, not being in league of someone; it just wasn't meant to be anything other my southern region calling the shots over the brain and the guts.

Sometimes, actually most of the time, proximity, height, and some undecipherable scents mix to play weird tricks on your nervous system- specially if you never had any shot at something fine.

But that is not the reason why I am doing this entry.

The course, as it ended (still 2% away from full finish) last night - at 10pm, I found something actually cry from within. I have been in the Stockholm Syndrome road block ever since I came to my senses. And I knew what was happening to me last night. The anger, the despair of not being able to grasp the most 'simple' concepts and finally the insensitivity ingrained by the Professor just evaporated like there was nothing there. The white paper of my senses which was riddle with holes, streaks and burns was suddenly made whole again in a split second.

I don't have the urge to reach out to Mr. Popularity again and do something weird. I'm gonna miss everything about him although I am still one Facebook message away from him. But just like the absence of the Strategy course is working to reconstruct my soul, my out of whack nerves are settling down. I'm not gonna forget those feelings, crying in the middle of the night for being so stupid and the panic attacks.

Taking them all in stride is the best thing I can do because let's face it, time and gravity are the only truths on this dimension!

10 years behind schedule

I only realised that even though I am 26 years old (+ 5 months) I am still in the hormonal mindset of a 16 year old. Truthfully, adding up all my immaturities has always set me back 10 years behind the rest of my peers (although on paper most are three years behind me, it's a Bangladesh thing on reducing age).

My official finals start tomorrow, it is official in the sense that my formal education is going to be boxed starting tomorrow. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, let alone the next week. There seems to be no end in sight and I have no idea as to what our esteemed teachers are up to. If Karma exists, their great grand children just better not be born. 

I have been super depressed over Lukas Graham's 7 years old. what is so great and inspiring in it. It makes me cry every time I sing it. Yes, I have memorised the song and sing it every time it comes up on VOA radio or on VH1, but I cry all the same. I guess I have to grow up the ten years on the inside to fully appreciate it.

A Shield in Shambles

I keep hearing the echoes of Evanescence's Everybody's Fool. Although it is a song on how fake the media is, like any great song it resonates differently at times.
While I keep telling myself that the great big world is not really as imposing as it seems, I end up crumpling into a crying ball of nothingness on the inside every single minute I breathe out. I tell myself my M/M story needs to be out there because that is the only thing no one take from me. Publishers will as expected will reject it,but I will never be able to rise up from it again.
I end up as the human shield for people I deem stronger than me because something inside me never fixed itself no matter how hard I tried. The patches of Eminem's hard rap, the wraps of gut clenching shows and the threads of my beloved Supernatural series all wrapped under my favourite yaoi manga and action moveis are not working. The combination worked for simpler times when I prepped for Business School, but nothing is working right now. I will probably cry if I hear 8 miles now.
I don't need a savior, I have no need to get away, and I don't need fixing.The world I am stuck in needs all thesemore than I will ever need anything from it.

as always the FOOL

There are quite somethings I never got to wrap my head around.
How come no one ever compliments me on my jewelry but goes bat shit over some cheap plastic bangles and an acrylic ring on some other chick? Well at least there is no harm done, my single set of jewelry and accessories will always be worth more than your trashy lot of plastic trinkets.
How come no one ever appreciates the music I like and challenge everything I listen to? Why do people try to pass me off as a flossy wannabe who only started music with Justin effing Bieber three months ago? You hating my thirty years of genetically embedded harmonics can't get you original CD-s, so yeah don't bother.
I still don't get how the same people who are with me almost 40+ hours of a week with less study time than me end up getting better grades than me. I end up being the back end of the class' percentile marker because I really don't have any clue than to study hard. I tried the 'smart' version, it paid out in negatives.  I am clueless as to how everyone seems to pick up everything at the exam while I end up scattering the tiniest things I grasped.
And finally why am I the only one with the Book of Life that's the fifth edition while even the dolts off the street have the streamlined 1001st edition? What am I doing wrong here?
I am not only born in the wrong place in the wrong time in the wrong species, I am born in the wrong dimesion altogether.
I am two milimeters close to breaking down into a drooling pile of insanity never to sound coherent again, but I am still going on acting as a functioning fool.

Thankful

No, this is not the god-forsaken beauty pageant list of thank you-s, this is the real deal.

I am thankful that I do not have an extended circle of friends. Unlike my parents before me, I keep my associates away. Every time I passed an institute, I never re associated with the filthy jerks. I hope to keep it that way because I would never want to hurt someone else because of them. Since I don't have anyone close to begin with, I have nothing to worry about. At least I am saving myself the heart ache for exchanging extremely bad words both externally and internally.

I am even more thankful that I am a fat ugly bean bag. Pretty B****s get every thing spoon fed to them and they can't even spell 'incompetent' right without busting a nail.

I am also thankful that Karma exists as well as cancer, plane crashes, and undetectable birth defects. What would we do without them! 

I am definitely thankful that I am becoming materialistic. Nothing beats great shoes, jewelry and money.

I am thankful finally for the internet because I can rant without causing my identity any damage.

I will  be even more thankful for the day when I can directly tell the F***ing A-holes what they really are because nothing really matters any more.

Living in a Pre-Truth

I learnt the word Pre-Truth from the show Big Time Rush. Super awesome show where there are these hockey players who become popstars. (It also helped that they were my age and pretty good looking white people...guilty as charged)
Now Pre-Truth is two steps away from a lie but definitely not a turth! You lie and then make sure you make it the truth, that's how it works.
One of my semi pre-truths is I hate men. I have proclaimed that this species has been off my diet since first grade. It will be all the more exemplified when I actually blurt out to Mr. Popularity that I have some sort of thing for him. The result is definitely no big puzzle. I will be shot down the second it gets out and will live the rest of my life as an even fatter dolt than I am. He will be soaring in the glory that he is born into and I will have squandered away the limited gifts I was able to develop.
Yet my brain is in constant movie mode with the things we could be doing together, having together and just being together. It is the Pre-Truth my neurons project and wants me to go forward with.
I have tried reasoning, there is no way in hell I'd get on with someone who is too religious (although I think that's what makes him who he is), or has extended families with extended friends (all the more reason to go after someone who's in everyone's circle, my possessive streak is death defying) and someone who just isn't mentally available for most of the times to a single person.
I guess while writing this, I found some parts of what I was looking for. I am just lonely and probably had my first sexual awakening which was ten years overdue. I can't override biology but I can get a hold of what I should not be doing. I need to hang in there for another two months, then it's bye bye bridges (for the 4th time).