I’m gonna make you angry!

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Silly girl.

You thought you could get away with breaking my heart, just because I am a loser (you are responsible, and I’m gonna make you pay for it).

It was never like you didn’t require my validation, you did. You would come running for it, and then when I would give it to you, it would turn you off?

You would play these tricks, cold-heartedly. Without a thought for what was happening to me, the romantic. You would make me jealous, and watch me writhe in pain.

Get a kick out of it, too.

Well, I have had my share and now I am gonna kick you around.

It’s magic, baby!

It’ll be nothing short of magic when I’ll undo your bra with one click of my fingers.

I’ll soften them sore muscles (you can order me around) and smoothen that headache.

I’ll make you moan until you can’t take it no more, and ease it all down with the help of some tantra.

I’ll sing you songs (well, at least, lip-sync them) and cook you that post sex-snack topped up with a cocktail that is shaken, not stirred.

 

All day, all night

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In a room in a jungle.

We’ll start with a healthy breakfast, that I’ll cook up with the help of some recipe online.

And then we can laugh about how silly the world is, putting their bodies and minds on the line for bread while we sit here under the sun with a dilemma much more significant.

How do we create something to ease their pain?

We’ll probably struggle to find an answer, so we’ll go for a run. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, here. I have seen Bhaag Milkha Bhaag thrice.

Drenched in sweat, I’ll challenge you to do more squats than me. Again, I am pretty cocky about winning.

We can follow that up with an hour spent in the bathtub. Both of us reading out loud (in turns, of course) from a book written by a dead writer who like us, was far, far away from the madding crowd.

After that, you’ll try on dresses after dresses, while I slip into a white T-shirt and give marks for each one. A soft, romantic melody playing in the background.

We’ll keep our cellphones away, choosing the company of artists instead of real people.

We’ll watch a movie after that, a different genre every day. Both of us will assume a character right from the first frame, and follow its journey with a child’s wonder and our bodies for company.

It’ll probably be time for lunch, and we’ll waste a few precious minutes fighting over what we’re in the mood to eat. Again, I’ll repay your faith in me by cooking up something delicious that we can eat to our heart’s content. Something that makes me want to fall into your arms right after.

We’ll sleep for some time, kissing each other until we’re tired.

You can make me some tea after that, coupled with cakes we had bought from the best bakery in the nearby city the day before.

I will try and make some conversation about our life’s purpose, and light up a joint to get the juices flowing.

Soon, the evening will turn into night and it’ll be time for a drink (or two).

We’ll not waste time cooking dinner, as I’ll have cooked plenty during lunch.

Then I’ll tell you how much I love you, and we’ll do the sexiest and naughtiest things (forget muscle soreness when you’ve got a massage junkie like me) until you fall asleep in my arms.

I can feel you

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…all the time.

I know how you feel when you’re struggling for words, thinking about me.

I know how you punish yourself, every time someone pricks you, and you can’t think of a proper retort because, “Hey! You’re too good for that shit.”

I know how bored you get, when you can’t express yourself (that’s when you’re really acting) around people because if you do, they’ll think you have totally lost your marbles.

I know what it’s like to have a strong imagination; one that robs all color from the world around you. Because that world is not yours, but the one within you, is.

Still in love with her

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I think I am still in love with her.

That baby who broke my feeble heart years ago when I was in school. The one who first gave meaning to all the love songs (maybe I am addicted, but I am out of control) you hear on TV.

I don’t know where I went wrong. I shouldn’t have. I was better than her.

Yet, her sweet voice and smooth hair would make me have silly thoughts. What if she drifts away? What if she finds another guy to love? What if she becomes more successful than me? In time, all of these fears came true.

I fell in love with many girls – each with her own loveliness and gifts, but those thoughts and those fears never went and I could never set fire to the rain.

Until I realized, it’s all just a game. And all of that pain has only contributed to making me a better lover. I need to thank all of them.

One day, I will.

You’ve gotta write your own dialogue

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and it shouldn’t be forced.

You have to say, whatever you have to say to win. If someone tries to suppress your voice by citing facts, ignore them. What’s fact? What’s fiction?

People are not going to be true to you. They are going to twist things around just to fuck with your brain.

You got courage, you be on the offensive right from the word go.

It’s okay if you have your ego shattered, and end up feeling like a puddle. That blow is only going to make you stronger.

It’s all about believing in yourself. Nobody can teach you that (except me, I have a hack) better than the school of hard knocks.

It’s a cliché (what isn’t, we just talk to keep the night going) but only when you’ve lost everything, do you start getting everything.

It’s just a game for them

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Ever seen your boss share cold vibes/heated arguments with his/her superior.

Know what?

They do it to keep the ones at the bottom of the food chain feeling inadequate about their courage. “Give these chumps a fight, and they’ll watch it happily without ever wanting to be the one facing the heat,” is what these soul suckers think.

I tell you what, next time you feel scared of the Big Daddy, know that the real villain isn’t him/her. It’s me.

3.00 am – The Hour Of The Devil

Do you believe in it? No? I don’t either.

But, the night is long, and I will have to tell you a story.

Just think, like ghosts and spirits, what if everything everyone told you through books, television, etc. was false.

Who knows the real Bhagat Singh? It’s just stories, right. Something, someone can make up.

And even if he did cause a revolution, why should I read up about him? He isn’t giving me any money, right.

Why should I watch Shah Rukh Khan and Ranveer Singh serenade the most beautiful women on screen? I tell you what, I have always wanted to be in their place. Ever since I was a child, I’d look at these heroines and wish I could be the one grabbing them by their hip and eating up their neck.

Compared to them, so many of the girls fell short, and I became such a nice and shy boy who didn’t talk to girls. And even when I did, I would always feel sorry for the fact that they weren’t as pretty as those women on screen.

But hey, like Motorhead, I ain’t no nice guy after all.

With years of visualizing actors do the naughtiest things, I think I can become really good at this lovemaking game once I get my groove on.

Don’t you agree, baby?

All knowledge is false

Everything you learnt in school, through college, from films – they’re all false.

There is only one truth. That you are a miracle.

Some people will try to feel superior by stamping on you. If they do, stamp back. Say the nastiest things you’ve ever felt. Make them feel your anger, make them hear the thunder. A courageous life is the only one worth living.

If that means you lose friends, so be it. You are going to find new people you can be friends with.

Try to improve yourself in ways that when a stranger sees you, he or she is impressed. Make your voice softer, your body stronger, your thoughts richer and your skin smoother.

Don’t be afraid of your faults, and don’t judge others for having it. I am finding it difficult to quit smoking here. My nose, my eyes and my tongue are all sending me one signal – feed me some nicotine. I might oblige with their request, but that doesn’t make me weak. Nothing does. Nothing can. It’s all play for me.

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