The Gist of it is.

She was the kind of girl who never judged, and tried accepting flaws. The type who got overly attached but thankfully to just a few, cared about her friends and got possesive about the very few she had.

she was the type who had over time become convinced that love doesnt happen to everyone and was consoling herself, getting ready to settle for maybe some passion and familiarity. she had been so betrayed that she had changed from a naive,simple girl to cold and calculating. in between sleep and dreams she could never recognise herself. but this new her was comforting to know. she knew this person would take care of her.

she hated traffic signals and always got caught in them and soon started looking for the times when she was not stuck. at a certain traffic light, there was a watch show room where an old man sat every morning, outside drinking a glass of black tea. she got into the habit of smiling at him. everytime she went by that road, she got stuck at the light and she waited for the old man to look up. he always smiled back. a few months later, the shop was closed and he was gone.

she thought about it every time she passed that way. she was convinced about his death. she dint quite mind dying herself. she was ok with that. but she constantly worried about having people who she loved leaving behind gaps that she knew not how to fill. so she made a deal with the big man. every day she would say this one prayer five times each for all the people she loved. that always took a long time. she dint mind.

she had thought so much about death that she had many ways of calming her self down. one was quickly stop thinking about it as soon the thought struck her by shutting her eyes really hard. by thinking of something that disgusted her like smelly feet or unwashed dirty socks. she was silly you know..

she loved unconditionally and she was always there when she did, love, that is. she tried sometimes too hard. she made vows all the time to herself to be a better person, she annoyed herself by thinking up all her faults and past mistakes when she fought with the people who cared. but she had a really ugly mouth and even uglier language if you upset her.

she would say things just to see that hurt look in the other persons eyes, which she would immedietly regret but she wouldnt be able to stop and her excuse was well its already done so might as well keep at it. she always wanted to be in the right. whether in the things she made or the things she did, the work she submitted, even pronounciation.

but that was hard cos she was one of the laziest people god had send down.

she was always scared of first steps and she loved playing hard to get. she was quite good at latter but when the time came she dint bother. she dint really have to. she let herself be and let all her guards down and plunged right in.

it worked for her. you see, she had intuitions and she was mostly right.

she loved rain, hated cold, loved blankets and socks and had a pretty smile.

she always forced the music she liked upon people. she would badger them into listening and keep playing the same song n number of times to much annoyance of people who lived with her. she loved dogs but hated having them jump on her, love or otherwise. she dint quite like hoobastank but loved their song The Reason, she would listen to the lyrics, think of her grandmother and try to be stronger. she slept listening to music each night, loved afternoon naps on weekends that sometimes stretched to hours and she detested waking up to a dark room.

she shopped so much at fab india, buying up all their over priced stuff gleefully cos it made her happy! spending crazy money on bangles and junk jewellery.

she loved cohen and cranberries equally. qawwali and janis joplin, she loved Regina spektor for singing Fidelity which was her song. she loved eyes wide shut the second time around and she loved farewell to arms second time around. Alice walker and camus sat together on her shelfs with naipaul and murakami. contradictions. always contradictions.

There was another thing. she was always trying to be stronger, if you dint know her you would never think she was weak and had her moments. she looked tough and was known as the local snob. well at least am not the local slut was her delightful reply.

she had her share of men. of bad sex and good ones, some she remembered fondly and the asseholes moodily, ( no pun intended). she couldnt remember the number of people she had kissed and was always against counting em up! what the hell! who would that benefit? Right.

she had drunken mistakes which was never really hidden cos she always liked to beleive that she wouldnt change one thing about her.

whatever that had happened wasnt maybe for the best but it had made her who she was today.

and she liked her.

she always liked to say: there is no life after pity and so she never gave any and never welcomed any.