Heights of Falling out of Tuch with being online...

I was groping around for the "New Mail" Tab while on GMAIL... And realized I prefer using the LN Domino Web Browser these days.... :(  SAD and PATHETIC....

Hers. . .

She always felt like she has known her for a long time. . . There was something about the look in her daughter's eyes like she knew her mother too well for her age or time would have permitted her to know.  The serene smile, yet, so innocent as it was worn on the little face. . .

The skin so soft.  The soft silky brown hair undecidedly folding into curls at the ends.  The little hands and feet.  The milky fragrance of her little body.  Even when the baby cried relentlessly in the nights during their initial days together, she did not get irritated. If she was tired, the minute she lifted her daughter, she was grateful for the warmth and comfort the little body offered her.  Her daughter was the most beautiful thing she had ever looked at, ever held. 

The little crinkles near the beautiful brown eyes. . . And those eyes.  That sometimes, soothed her... Sometimes disturbed her. . . It was colour she knew only too well.  She had not thought about it clearly for a long time though it used to nag her mildly, constantly. Every time she looked at her beloved child, she would invariably get hooked to the eyes.

Then it came to her one day. When she was going through her school photographs.  But it couldn't be.  It may not really be for it was not distinctly that shade of dark brown.  It was like a somehow more feminine version of the same eyes.  But it could just not be.

Everytime she thought about it, she became uncomfortable.  For her general wondering grew into a disturbing curiosity.  Then it drew her imaginative mind's interest far more deeply.  And before she could stop herself, she even started hoping that it was true. . . That is when she had to stop herself.  She did not want to disturb her calm, peaceful, in fact beautiful but a little lonely life.  Stop.  What was she thinking.  This is why she had to stop.  She wasn't Lonely.  She had her daughter.  This is what she had chosen.

She had the perfect life, she told herself.  An independent and interesting career.  A cozy little house for herself.  She is making enough money to support herself and her beautiful little daughter and still saving for her only daughter's future. . .

She did not have an unhappy committment - nothing that would affect her comfortable existence.  Her daughter was her world.  Her family had not spoken one word to her after her decision and she was not too worried.  Time heals everything.  She has supported her baby all alone for 2 years now. . . She was sure she can do it all her life. . .

She had her best friend to support her at hard times... No. . . No, she would do even without him.  Or would she?  Please, no not again. . .  Those eyes.  They always set her thoughts going like this which is why she was always wary of them though she loved them, especially for their familiarity for she could quietly build an imagination too good to be true. . . Wait... What is this. . . Stop. . .

She looked at her baby sleeping - the angel, the saviour, the joy. . . She soothed herself that it could not be so...  She was fine. . . Everything around her was fine. . .  And then the door bell rang.  It was time for his visit. . .  She loved to see the adorable smile that spread on her daughter's face every time she saw him. . . Much like her own happy heart at the wonderful company. . .   But she feared the day when she would ask about her father and the day she may even mistake him for, if only it were true. . . Stop. . .

She shook her thoughts away to go back to her life, the way it was. . . Happy but a little lonely. . . She had to admit. . . Except for these visits. . . She might very well admit it to herself. . . Herself alone. . . 

Letter to the Bastards.....

You sickening bastards,

What the fcuk do you guys get from that?  It totally slips me...

I do not understand the joy of a fleeting second of your hand/body touching/hitting skin/dress?

Why cannot we enjoy a moment of let down guard?  Why should we be vigilant all the time?  Why is it our fault if we walk down a road enjoying the scenary instead of watching out for the sicko in every person we walk past. . .

Nobody is going to bother if you go to your fcuking corners at your homes and do sick things imagining random people you see on the road...  Atleast we wouldn't know. . .

Do you even know how humiliating it is, those few seconds/minutes?  Well, do you even care. .

There is almost no girl that does not have a flashback of having been abused.  Beginning right from childhood...  I really don't want to start on child abusers.  There would be no end, the sickest of you all. . .

And all those educated bastards... These are the decent ones - with their friends and aquaintances - but walk to the Pubs/Coffee Bars/Dance Floors or any place that has crowd/drink/smoke/dance/music - where women would want to let the hair down - and start showing their ugly side just because women are "out and bold enough to have our share of fun" . . .  They have the face to even say that to their friends -"well what are such places for... After all the women come there to have their drinks!"

Just because a woman drinks or goes out with her friends doesn't make her "easy"...

The things you do in public, range from flashing to brushing past to shagging to groping and pinching... What sickening joy?!!!!

Well, get this, I know it probably doesn't hit you at all, but in the weakest of your moments, where your inflated egos and disguised insecurities are exposed, remember this!  You are the most despised, hated beings that could ever live on earth. . .