Index of Journals
January 31, 2011 Last night was an extremely difficult time to pass. I was getting continuous anger-revivals from time to time, on how my life has been over these days, over these weeks, these months, and these years. I couldn’t it on one moment and punched my finger bones in a fist against the wall. It swelled, and I promised myself never to do any thing illogical out of anger. It didn’t stop till morning, hours after hours, my breathing would become fast, and I too wouldn’t act against it, just to stay calm. Last night, I remember Shruti had made a face as if I had refused something precious to her. Plus, I, for the first time, made healthy eye-conversation with fufaji up to some extent. Otherwise, as a child I used to find him scary, he indeed is scary, but maturity has come to me a bit. About today, Neeru ma’am has been watching me too much since last two days or earlier I guess. It is silly if I got that teacher running after me. And technically, it is purely dangerous to take chances with a teacher in whose hands you have your internal marks, your future. Oh god, I wear these fagged out eyes from sleepless nights, and then I at times in semi-sleep state spit rubbish about teachers from the second bench. Most of the times teachers look back at me. At I probably guess they get to hear every silent word from our mouth. It was Operating Systems teacher (Megha) today, when I called her off-of-a-buffalo and she had looked back. “The class hates, but they can’t resist themselves to take a chance either.” In morning when I was walking down the road to the college, Karishma came from behind and offered lift to me on her scooty. I didn’t realize that road ahead would be too bumpy, and by the time we reached college I was sticking to her closely. I couldn’t rest my legs properly and I was holding her from upper arms. Shruti Barapuria is a slut; she’s been ignoring me these days. The class almost hates me. And I can’t do anything about it. God Bless ‘Me’ Ashish
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