It's hard to find ones like you.
And now you have to go. Who knew?
It only takes a few thoughts and snap!
You're packing away your shirts and caps.

Alright enough chit-chat, let's get down to business.
Once you leave, a lot of people will be in a mess.
But they'll get alright and we'll await your return,
If you don't, you can just stink and burn :P

You're a different one, you are.
You're not like the other stars..
You make everyone feel good,
When you're in a room, you lighten up the mood.

It only takes a few minutes of hanging out with you,
For someone to feel all filled with mush and goo
Because you're super charming, no doubt,
Suppu, for example, fell for you all out :D

We're all going to miss your jokes,
The whale one sure made us choke.
I'm going to miss jamming with you,
Even though our sessions were only a few.

You made the best Hagrid as far as I know,
And when you sprained you'r ankle, it came as a blow.
But you trudged right on through,
No wonder so many people love you.

We love you,
We want you,
We need you,
We'll miss you.

The swirl of magenta overwhelms me,
You're rhapsody makes the forest enchant me.
With these crazed hues of pink and green,
I only wish that I wasn't seen.

The words bind to me like wet cloth..
The trees whisper at the ocean froth,
The black ivy cutting my wrists,
I only wish I could see through the mist.

The solemn attitude of a grey wolf,
The river scents and silence engulfs.
The breaking dawn bringing doomsday to us all.
The buildings towering so high..so tall.

The mistake makers have a few words to say,
Convey that it's not all work and play.
Brilliance brings monotony and bribe,
The music posts another world of vibe.

The serpent cries of high pitched silence..
The cyber-glass, fluorescent green fence.
The hovering guilt and feelings of empathy,
A lion's understanding of sympathy.

The grass grows brown with the monsoon sun
The cradle tips and the world falls down.
The breaking glass makes me fall back into place,
The sun comes out and smiles without a face.

The evil wink of a star at night,
Makes it hard for us to fight,
To gather power, open shreds of courage
To another fearful gathering just to encourage.

The spiteful glance of a vulture, so high up in the sky,
To make conditions necessary, he tries
But blunders on to the next new hope
Until tied down by a sorrow rope.

The swirl of magenta overwhelms me,
You're rhapsody makes the forest enchant me.
With these crazed hues of pink and green,
I only wish that I wasn't seen.

I'm sorry for all the misunderstandings,
I'm sorry for not spending enough time,
It's not hard to realise just how important you are to me.
If bringing down the moon would help you, I would try.
I won't expect so much from you anymore.
Whenever you need me, I'm right there, however corny that sounds.
I may look weak, but I'll be strong.
I'll pray for you day after day.

I'll do as much as I can to make things easier for you.
I won't stop smiling when you're around.
I can't promise that, but I'll try.
I won't make you so nervous anymore.
I'll rely on you as little as I can.
I'll try stop anything that makes you sad.
I keep saying I'll try..don't think it's half-hearted.
I'm not as strong as you,
But you know how I hard I'll work just for you.

Please don't cry unless it helps..
I for one know that it helps.
Writing helps, singing helps.
Crying. It definitely helps.
Don't hesitate to ask or tell me anything
I swear I'm strong for you.
I've been put through shit before but this I can do.
I know you'll always be there for me.
Let me help you for once
And not the other way around.

I'm sorry.

Let's make a stop on our way to heaven
Or hell or whatever it is that it's called.
We can have anything that is worth craving,
Or even sip our tea and watch people look appalled.

I'll write a note and send it down to my mother,
Tell her just how great the trip has been.
I'll leave a little heart at the end,
And write in quotes 'here's a great big, big hug.'

Maybe i can take a little souvenir..
A doll.. or something of that sort.
But i don't know if that'll make it through customs,
Guess I'll have to take a risk and move along.

When I get there, I'll make some appointments soon,
To meet my granfathers and whatnot..
And I'll even try to find the little puppy,
That I lost about last year, around mid-fall.

So let's make a stop on our way to heaven,
Or hell or whatever it is that it's called.
A nice hot drink would be perfect before my meeting,
With the guys who control us all.

One face?
Or two profiles facing each other?



A Native American profile?
Or an Eskimo entering a cave?



A rabbit, looking right?
Or a duck, looking left?



man playing a horn or a woman's face?



How many legs does the elephant have?



stare at the black dot, the grey haze appears to shrink

Relax your eyes for the following two pictures:








The impossible box!



looking up or down?



are the horizontal lines crooked or parallel?

relax ur eyes... you'll feel like the circles are moving. but when u focus, u can tell they're not.



again relax ur eyes. the out-of-focus part of the pictre appears to move lazily.



stare at the pink centre circle and see the surroundings change

Encircle!



Despair. ehe



man overboard



downtown



ambigUous



Upside down!



Tennis!



Tea time!



splitting headache. ehe



bending the rules

is the shaded side of the box in front or behind?



it looks like there's a square but it's only the way the circles are cut



Stare at one of the dots.. doesn't it look like the other dots are blinking?



is the ball inside the box or outside?



It appears like the centre square on the left is smaller than the one on the right but they're actually both the same.

She heard the smooth flow of water,
Like silk running down rocky steps.
Cutting her way through,
She found the lake in all it's glory.

She sat on the bank, pulling out the letter,
Her leg still throbbed but felt oddly better,
She opened the envelope quietly,
Pulling out the white sheet, peering at it strangely,

Like she knew it's secrets already.
Before unfolding it, she raised her head,
Blissfully aware of her surroundings.
She knew it was population-dead.

The leaves of trees had tiny dew drops,
The rapids were not so rapid after all,
The view was so breath-taking it would make one stop,
She smiled a smile that was irritatingly small.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened again,
Looked down at the paper and unfolded it,
Rummaged through her bag, took out a pen,
Turned in a position so the paper was lit.

Carefully she read each line.
Each word, each syllable
Each smooth ink line
And went on like this for a while.

Her lips from down, began to turn up,
The sunlight hit her and her eyes sparkled,
Finally her smile would be genuine,
She was finally happy.

Author's note: I don't know what the hell I was thinking

You really are something,
Your moods know no stability,
You think everyone hates you,
You have some fixed enimity
With everyone you know,
Although 'know' is a strong word,
You think you know them at a glance,
You're prejudiced and blinded by yourself,
You think you're the only important one,
While you complain about others having
Something called a superiority complex.
You pay no attention,
Once decided, you don't change your mind.
You insult everyone behind their backs,
You yell at us as though we're being impossible,
You think you have no friends when people are trying,
You think you're the only hard-working one,
The only one who's had a miserable life,
The only one who has the right opinion...

But what's the worst thing?
You can't help yourself.
It's a part of you,
You're stuck with it
And no one can blame you,
There's no cure after all,
However much we try,
However much you try,
You're stuck like this.
That must be horrible.
Not just for you
But for us too.
Both you and I need
To put up with you.
I can't imagine how it must be,
To be you.
To feel so hollow,
To have no friends
To feel lonely
Even when you're surrounded by people.
I'm sorry if I ever hurt you.
I'm sorry if I've yelled back,
But it's something inevitable.
Neither of us can help it,
This is how life is going to be,
Until the end.
I cry for you, trust me I do.
And I wish I could help.
It's just that most of the time
I'm hating you.
And I hate myself for hating you.
In truth, I do love you.
Not because I don't have a choice,
But because that's what it is.
I'm sorry.

She stared across the vast expanse of road, her eyes growing tired. Seemingly endless space could only draw her nearer to something unpredictable. Something she was most vulnerable to. Something she would cower against even amidst awareness of a heaven ahead of her. Loneliness.

It had almost become a hobby of hers to lose all sense and to forget. Sometimes, though, she forgot how to numb herself. Her craving could take the better of her, like any normal human being, however abnormal she was. She was not afraid of losing her limbs, eyes, ears or nose. No. She was stronger than that. Physically. Her mind grew feeble, though, at the thought of losing her actual self to something so relentless. Reckless she had been to not realise what she was losing, or worse, lost.

Puppetry on the highest level. That was what had led her to the road she was staring at. Her face, emotionless, shone against the white hot sunlight. She tried to acquire numbness so as to discard the most haunting feelings that any living being could endure. It became impossible as she realised her hunger. She hadn't eaten since...even that was hard to remember. Excellent. Her memory had vanished too. She fell on her knees, exhaustion taking over. "I'll take a rest," she tried to mutter but realised her throat had dried. She glared up at the blazing sun thinking, 'Why, thank you for the help.' Usually sarcasm made her a little satisfied. Not that day. She drew in long, deep breaths, inhaling (to her extreme annoyance) dust and sand particles. There was no chance a car would see her. She was on the most deserted highway in the world. She placed her dirty, limp hands on the road softly, acknowledging the burning sensation of the tar. Her arms gave way slowly, painfully, making her cheek drift down to the hard surface. She felt her whole body burn and ache. Perfect. She smiled a smile she knew was far from genuine. She let her body curl into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly. She looked on the bright side: at least she would overcome her fear by the time she got to her next life, which was dying alone, with no feeling, no emotion, no friend....no friend....not even family...no one. Absolutely no one.

As she rocked herself back and forth on the prickly surface, singing in a whisper a song that she always related to:

I am doll eyes
Doll mouth,
Doll legs.

I am doll parts,
Bad skin
Doll heart

It stands
For knife
For the rest
Of my life.

A tear slid down her cheek. She smiled. She could feel sadness to it's largest extent. She could feel.

'I can feel,' she thought, drifting off to eternal sleep.

Nothing beats the satisfaction of a movie if you've actually cried for the "sad" parts. Usually I don't cry, however good the movie is. But something came over me recently and tears just poured out like buckets of salty water. Don't get me wrong. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being sentimental for movies that are, well, sentimental.

This movie was called 'Proof', starring Gwenyth Paltrow, Anthony Hopkins, Jake Gyllenhaal, Hope Davis and Gary Houston.

In Chicago, on the day of her twenty-seventh birthday, Catherine (Gwyneth Paltrow) receives her sister Claire (Hope Davis) from New York for the funeral of their father Robert (Anthony Hopkins), who passed away a couple of days before. Robert was a brilliant mathematician that became bughouse, and Catherine had lived with him for the last five years, inclusive quitting her studies in the faculty, and she is concerned about having inherited his insanity. The mathematician of the University of Chicago, Hal (Jake Gyllenhaal), is making a research in Robert's notebooks, trying to find any brilliant proof that Robert might have produced in one moment of lucidity. When Hal has one nightstand with Catherine, she gives a notebook to him with the development of a unique mathematics theory that Catherine claims that she developed. Hal and Claire do not believe on her, until the truth is disclosed.

It shows reality at its fullest. There's no particular point of the story, but it still is worth watching on a rainy day.

What is it with me and this new frenzy I'm going through? I seem to have been overcome by love for these animals. Sure, wolves are barbaric and can rip you to pieces if they have to. But there's something so special about them. They look so wise. Above all, they're so bloody cool! They are the ancestors of dogs...which probably make them all the more incredible. They have some sort of seriousness about them that's quite inexplicable. When they howl into the night, it sends shivers down your spine. Don't lie. You know it does. However brave you are. They're pretty quiet though, during the day. If you end up watching National Geographic or Animal Planet and you happen to see them, just keep watching. They're weirdly interesting. Maybe all of this is in my head, but I don't care. I'm still pretty sure that if I had a choice to be an animal for a day, heck, for my next life (if there is such a thing) then without hesitation I would chose a wolf!

Once in a while your friend comes inside the room and says 'hi' with a voice so hoarse and croaky you wonder if there's some sort of tractor running up and down his or her throat. It may even be you sometimes.. Personally I love sore throats. At least when I get one. You're probably thinking, "And I thought I'd heard everything..." and shaking your head... but it's true. I love sore throats... not because of the constant itchiness about your throat or the continuous coughing or the colourless or greenish-yellow phlegm that's coughed up. No, I love it because of the voice. I've always had this thing about hoarse voices...probaby being one of the reasons for the music I listen to or the guys a "check out" (I never liked that statement. Can't a girl stare at boys who look cute/hot and not be someone who's checking someone out? That's so...tacky!).

I usualy hate my voice.. Not when I speak but when I hear myself through a mic or a recording or a video.. I've always wondered if that's how I sound. I sound like a little baby.. Anyway. When I get a sore throat my voice becomes all velvety and different. Different most of the time is good. And good is great! Problem is when I want to sing (And I like singing so much more with a croaky voice.. yes, I'm...unique) I end up coughing and coughing up phlegm at that. (Picturesque isn't it?) But I've always wished I could get a croaky voice for life, without having to stop every two minutes to spray infection everywhere. Just a thought..

OK, so maybe I'm not the mischievous type. But you have to admit, being around mischievous people may seem irritating but deep down you know you're having fun. It's when the forced down part of you comes out, rearing its sniggering head. Everyone has a little mischief in them. Seeing someone use that character to its full use just prompts you to bring out your own little bit. Let's be honest here. Supposing you see some poor soul walking down the corridor and you see another shady looking person stick out his leg. Eventually, if the leg isn't seen the poor coul trips. You know you want to laugh, even if you feel bad for the guy. Mischief can also be called being 'troublesome'. But sometimes mischief is just plain fun.

In one's life there's sure to be a mischievous moment. At least one. Perhaps when you hid your classmate's lunch basket and watched with sadistic delight as he or she searched endlessly until you burst out laughing and showed him or her where you had hid it.

Or the time when you tortured your teacher with the help of your classmates as she sadly tried to keep you all quiet?

Or the time when the whole class pretended there wasn't a test that day so the poor teacher postponed it without her own knowledge.?

What about the time you pretended to be sick on a school day when you knew perfectly well that you were as free of diseases as a frog is of getting chikkun gunya? Your parents would've have cooed over you, telling you to sit back and relax and bunk the day of school. You would give an angelic, innocent, teary smile will inside it was one of satan.

Later, when you got a job and you placed a farting cushion on your boss's seat.. mischievous or not?

Well? Most readers would remember these times or anything related to it. And just the thought brings out little old mr.snickers out again doesn't it?

A star amidst a million moons,
A planet tries to sing the blues,
Neptune and Jupiter on a merry-go-round,
Venus and Mars make inappropriate sounds,
Saturn's dress tore at the seem,
These are the obvious signs of a dream.

The bin smells of wonderful candy,
Operas are oh so lively,
The dog delivered the post today,
An elephant came to church to pray,
The polar bears formed a baseball team,
These are the signs of a dream.

The pigs are taller than the trees,
The flowers blossomed into bees,
The leaves turn blue and begin to sing,
Swarovski crystals on a bird's wing,
Bamboo twigs grew some neem,
These are the signs of a dream.

Creepy, crawly, icky things,
Shoot out, bite, here comes the stings,
Vampires smiling from in their coffin,
The boogie monster ate your last muffin,
The werewolf's drool looks like brylcreem,
These are the signs of a dream.

There are always those blissful days when one takes up a nonsensical characteristic, which, mind you, most people ignore due to their die-hard belief that it is shameful to act a little crazy. To me, and probably many others, it feels like having a chocolate bath without the worry of being sticky later. Salvation maybe. Much like the feeling of going completely high and knowing you won't end up with a hangover. The appalling sensation of silliness, without a care in the world. That's the sort of idiocy that creates the feeling of a better world. A world of Hakuna Matata. It's on one of those days where you're sitting with your friends, feeling giggly (whether you're a male or a female. The male species seem to think it's a joke that they could even giggle if they wanted to, oh but trust me, you do. Even if it's for totally different reasons from the females. Reasons which we girls will never understand. Reasons being almost always related to thy sick, perverted minds). Or when you've just had a massive bar of chocolate (because we all know that chocolate makes the mind dawdle, stumble and eventually lead to blissful, muddled chaos). Or the afternoon mug of coffee, which gives you the bitter-sweet taste of the giggles. And of course, then comes the time of high-ness of a drunk man. (or woman. Let's be fair.) It's the time when you don't seem to be fretting about day to day problems for unexplainable reasons. Or the time when you're not worrying about the world coming to an end, the sky falling and the occasional worries of death and what it would be like. Or even the worries of being clumsy and to be strict about dignity and poise. Once put that way, you'd want to make every day one with happy, clumsy, silly thoughts, all swirling around you, recklessly. But unfortunately, once everyone wishes to be crazy, the world turns its pretty face to the lonely dumps to sit in a corner and cry. But this does not call for an immediate ban on craziness. Au contraire! The sensible people return to helping the world, while us happy fools sit back and relax.