All the stories that I have been coming up in recent times have been evil which have evil men and women plotting up evil, dark ways to inflict pain or people dying and breaking people's hearts.
I was reading through a couple of them and I wondered where that happy person inside of me has gone away to. I'm not one of those chicks who revel in gore. O.k maybe I do enjoy minimal amounts of it, now and again, but as a rule, people around me think of me as an air-head in love, hardly the Revenge-Desertion type. So I have promised myself that the next story I write, whenever I do, will me complete mush - true to my image. Anybody wanting to get the hell out can do so right now, don't say I didn't warn you xD
Another thing. When I write or read, fiction especially, I feel every bit of the action inside of me - be it pain or happiness or desperation or love or... erm.. you get the point. And when I'm done, I feel drained. This makes dealing with the darker emotions difficult because the feelings get carried over, making me grumpy and snapping everyone's head off.
I'm making this particular bit of weirdness public because I want to know if I'm the only weirdo with the hyper-intensive feel-ology or maybe there are other, more normal beings, who will confirm that my marbles are indeed intact. Anyone?
One more. Does anybody
else enjoy eating a paste made out of chocolate drink powder and a wee bit of water?
P.S: I need a new playlist. English and Hindi. Show me some good music, peeples.