I am tired of - my imaginations. And my imaginations make me live. What a situation...
Why did God make me like this? So incurably (I love Google Translate when I can't place the word in one language but I know it in another) free-willed? No body else has hold on my time and how I spend it. I know it leads to quarrels, and I am a fearful person these days. I can never forget that the last time grandma spoke to me, I didn't reply in a proper way. I was not having a quarrel with her, but with my parents. But still, she tried to intervene and asked me what's going on, and I told her, why doesn't she speak to my parents instead. Not rude words, but not spoken softly either.That was the last time. I was depressed can't be an excuse. There would be no making amends.
Google Translate does more things. It gave me the word, शहद...I feel this about their dialect, have always felt it. If there was ever a sweet language - it's Bihari Hindi. And when he speaks my language, it is মিছরি...I can't explain that either. Fused and crystallized sugar? I like him to see me in this way, unkempt, angry. See I had told you I'd write some masterpiece you'd love react to - didn't I?
Love, stay in limbo please, between imagination and reality? I can't wholeheartedly love the real you, you know that. And I can't manage entirely with imagination either...
Why did God make me like this? So incurably (I love Google Translate when I can't place the word in one language but I know it in another) free-willed? No body else has hold on my time and how I spend it. I know it leads to quarrels, and I am a fearful person these days. I can never forget that the last time grandma spoke to me, I didn't reply in a proper way. I was not having a quarrel with her, but with my parents. But still, she tried to intervene and asked me what's going on, and I told her, why doesn't she speak to my parents instead. Not rude words, but not spoken softly either.That was the last time. I was depressed can't be an excuse. There would be no making amends.
Google Translate does more things. It gave me the word, शहद...I feel this about their dialect, have always felt it. If there was ever a sweet language - it's Bihari Hindi. And when he speaks my language, it is মিছরি...I can't explain that either. Fused and crystallized sugar? I like him to see me in this way, unkempt, angry. See I had told you I'd write some masterpiece you'd love react to - didn't I?
Love, stay in limbo please, between imagination and reality? I can't wholeheartedly love the real you, you know that. And I can't manage entirely with imagination either...
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