And I find solace in writing out my mind. Bizarre and cranky are my thoughts and hence I do not even know what I am thinking or if I am thinking at all. Seems like you need to feel strongly (at least feel, if not strongly) about something to have views, to have something to put in words, to have thoughts... And I am thoughtless and I find solace in being (writing) out of my mind.
Off late I've been keeping mum, being a disgrace to my own self for being thoughts-constipated (btw that's not the only place where constipation has made its home). Now one would be tempted to ask why being silent is a matter of disgrace. Because:
It's a constant reminder of the fact that I am thoughtless and hence quiet. So quiet that I've forgotten what being me is like. I've forgotten what I have been passionate about all my life. I've forgotten how it used to feel to laugh and to cry. Not that I don't laugh or cry, just that the feel accompanying them, though not fake, is not too much with feelings either. I am being a disgrace to my own self and am keeping mum about it.
People say that I am sweet. They say maybe because I keep mum. Or maybe cuz I really am. I am so sweet that I go unnoticed in crowd. I am so sweet that I don't say anything bad about any(thing/one) because I am thoughtless (but i do say bad). I am so sweet that houseflies s(h)it on me. No wonder because of the last reason, people say that I am sweet.
