I deleted the last post, because inevitably everything's pointless. I don't know if this too shall pass, and i don't know if I can ever be a ball of happiness radiating positive energy.
All I know is that something has broken. Something major has changed. Turned its back.
It's not that i am enjoying this. But I don't know what to do about it.
I wish to be patient, I wish to start liking myself and others around me.
I wish to talk, mystify, have a ball.
I wish to be brave. 

The inside loves drama, the outside detests.
I liked Gigantic for a bit, because of the difference.
Tomorrow is your birthday. I can only sing. As I grow older, your offer so much solace. As i tiptoe over my fears, as i wake up startled from a dream, as i fight existence:

তোমায়     নতুন করেই পাব বলে হারাই ক্ষণে ক্ষণ
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন।
          দেখা দেবে বলে তুমি হও যে অদর্শন,
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন॥
ওগো       তুমি আমার নও আড়ালের,  তুমি আমার চিরকালের--
          ক্ষণকালের লীলার স্রোতে হও যে নিমগন,
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন॥
আমি        তোমায় যখন খুঁজে ফিরি ভয়ে কাঁপে মন--
          প্রেমে আমার ঢেউ লাগে তখন।
তোমার     শেষ নাহি, তাই শূন্য সেজে  শেষ করে দাও আপনাকে যে,
          ওই হাসিরে দেয় ধুয়ে মোর বিরহের রোদন,
ও মোর     ভালোবাসার ধন॥

I was staring at scars some day last week. The woman caught me staring and shot me a glare. I looked away, ashamed.
This new found oldness is comforting, it lulls me to sleep every night. Long before dawn, insects gather at my feet, shadows dance on walls, and unaware, they don't frighten me.
Sometimes, I break the routine, listen to a new song, keep my desk cluttered. Sometimes, I smell your hair differently.