College Log Day 1: No electricity in the dorms from 9 o'clock 'yesterday'. I need to wake up in 4 hours and have a class in six. They say the powercut will last 2 days. I hope not.

The worst part is that there are still halogen lights on the streets. I can go study under the street lamps like my grandfather did more than half a century ago.

The guy next-doors is snoring like a monster, but I can't sleep. I had a bath and went and had cold chocolate and maggi 10 minutes ago, now living on thumbs up! and the remaining charge on my laptop. love college already.

To the universe

It has always been one of my lifetime goals to reach my conclusion without having carried out any violent terrorist acts of an explosive nature. For this purpose, it would have been sufficient if I did not have the requisite expertise in chemicals and thermodynamics needed to make things go BOOOM!!!

So yeah... God. You aren't helping.

Alone now.

The demon walks free. The backdrop of choking, toxic furnace seems apt somehow- perfect to help mould the monster into a creature even more cruel and apathetic.
To be honest-
Shelter, complacency, bliss are what have come closest to killing this creature. All pain and rage is merely staple food. It devours them readily, stopping only when its stomach has begun to overflow.
Living only on instinct now... I will let nothing in my way.

Blank

They say,
'You don't know best.'
'What you think isn't the only way to think.'
'You aren't the only one.'
'You're wrong.'
'Stop thinking that you're the only one who understands anything.'
'Shut up.'
'What do you think you are?'

When I state my opinion, why do they act like I'm choking them with my bare hands?

Opinions are derived from facts, if you knew what I do- you might agree with me.

When I tell someone that they are wrong, I state the reason clearly, concisely, and hopefully without undue emotion.

Then they tell me that I am wrong.

Why? I ask.

"Because you can't be right. You can't be right every time."

...I know I can't, but that is not a valid reason...

"I am what I am. You have no right to change me!"

You won't even allow me to contest a half-baked thought without considering it an attack on your very being?! Don't argue if your chosen currency is pride, not reason!

I refuse to believe that man is incapable of gaining a deeper understanding of the world than what comes naturally. I refuse to believe that you can't change, within the boundaries of what defines you as a person.

So when you say-
"You're wrong.
You don't know everything.
You don't know anything."

I say-

"Prove it."

-

One glance. And one more.

She walked in, as I was about to leave. Medium height, a little small maybe. I didn't know her. She caught my attention. I'll probably never see her again.

I stood in line to collect a form for admission to a hostel. She was a little distance away. I found her... incredibly attractive.

If someone else asked me to explain it, I could not, in terms of words. It will be natural for them to think that I saw some fairy-tale princess or super model or a half/full caucasian (with me having some kind of white-skin-philia begin with-).

What was so special about her face? Nothing I guess.
Nothing? So just what else could you have seen?
Er.

Its not about appearance, I think. It's about the impression you make.

From the expression on her face, I know that she isn't 'nice'... that 'nice' that I find pathetic. Its hard for someone to be nice (the real one) by default, to people you barely know. A cold shell is easier to believe... less likely to be fake.

There was another girl in the crowd, from my coaching class, who had been 'nice' to everyone from the start, flocked to the most successful, then left them for greener pastures when they seemed to fall. She was one of the higher scorers of the class.
I saw her in the line behind me- she had been observing me, utterly conscious of my presence. I would have smiled at her just to be polite, but the wave of hatred that blasted into me from her expression left me blank, bemused (btw- bemused means confused, not amused, strange eh?)

I didn't really understand the hate from her... it wasn't contempt, were it- she would have ignored me. It was almost like jealousy, which I didn't understand- I was only a few ranks ahead as far as she knew, and even if she had heard my name announced earlier, it wasn't enough to warrant hatred- right?

What she hated... was me, I think. Its only my instinct speaking here- she knew how I was, quiet, lazy yet supremely confident in my own abilities- I listened to my teachers when I saw it fit, ignored them when I thought they were spewing shit. I tried to score but never used it as a barometer to measure worth. I stopped believing in coaching after my IITJEE ended up being rather ordinary. She had, along with her friends, attended coaching for the other exams as well- including the one that landed her here, at the Delhi College of Engineering, while I had decided that the only way I'd amount to anything was to take my future into my own hands.

That is why she resented me, I realize now, not only because I was more successful, but because the kind of person I was- because my silent confidence was something she used to hold a deep contempt for, but that contempt was turned on its head when my way of functioning was vindicated.

Haha, thank the night and my meandering, time-wasting style of writing. But for them I might have never understood this, and allowed it to puzzle me for a long time hence.

I was writing of another girl, after all, haha. The one I don't know.

Her back was straight, her poise impeccable, completely unlike the seething hunch-back trying to contort itself into a respectable shape as it noticed my eyes come across it. She handled herself with perfect grace, exuding confidence.

Her body was not unhealthily thin, but healthy without a single extra pound of fat. This, along with her posture, gave an impression of athleticism, of a person who maintained herself well.

The clothes she wore told me that she did not seek cheap attention, either that or she simply thought she didn't need help from clothes. They were simple, effective, form fitting, but giving away nothing to lecherous eyes.

The mere fact that she was here meant that she was intelligent. Sure it was an exam that I didn't exactly take seriously, but only because I had tortured myself for several days before it to be in a position to take part.

I know she wasn't shy, by the way she observed me from the corner of her eye and weighed me, without even turning her head, (Its at times like these that I feel... very... inferior, I guess.) perhaps she understood that she had my attention- or perhaps she didn't realize that I would notice hers.

The line I was in moved forward, and I moved along with it. Because we had both seen each other, neither could care to spare another glance, because that would give too much away.

She was nowhere to be seen by the time I finished with my work.

As I left, I had a desire to return. It was irrational, because even if I did, I would probably never see her again. Even if fate helped out a little, we'd probably never speak, probably have nothing in common if we did speak, and she probably wouldn't give a damn if we had anything in common.

Even so, I was intrigued.

I'm an objectivist, aren't I?

I bought a pair of sunglasses. They seemed cool. I need them for the desert life, I think.

I came home. My sister, always ready to meddle in the petty and the mundane, went through the shopping bags and found the sunglasses.

"I knew you'd buy this pair of sunglasses!" She exclaimed.

The glasses were light, narrow without excessive material, and mostly black... it had taken me an hour to pick out a pair that I liked... I refused to buy anything I felt compromised on the design on account of price, or priced unfairly. It was pretty damn painful.

"How did you know?" I asked, my brain numbed.

"You like these kinds of sunglasses." Well Duh.

"These are SO out of fashion these days. Hahahahaha. I can't even START to tell you how out of fashion they are!"

"Who cares?"
And then-
"What is fashion, anyway?"

Fashion is people who don't know any better than you telling you what to wear for practically no reason whatsoever. In order to fuel sales, the world has formed a strange cycle between the old and the new- with people continuously moving between donning the bohemian and the futuristic. People are led to believe that they need to buy what is 'in', sales never cease, people are never allowed to be satisfied, not for a moment. They follow the words of the deceivers like mindless sheep. I can understand if a few just wanted to wait for social sanction, before trying to wear something they always wanted to, but to think that they are superior to another because they follow the commands the corporations feed them, hah. I could laugh if it wasn't so depressing.

That is how I defined fashion.

"What is fashion?" I asked her.
"I don't know." Said my sister. She wants to enter the fashion industry.

I'm an objectivist aren't I?

*SUBJECT CHANGE*
Damn you Ayn Rand. You have a rape-fetish, you bitch, stop trying to justify it by incorporating it into philosophy.

To Rolf, The Fool

You must think I get irrationally angry at times. And I do. But you're never going to figure out why I hate you, you blind fool.

You are always... so prepared to let pride come in the way of conscience. To let your stupid arguments take their toll on you. Just rushing headfirst into destruction, ignoring all warnings, and then passing on the blame so you don't have to face up to it.

Call me a sadist, I don't care, I'm a masochist already. Blame me. But I'll be gone soon enough, and I'm never letting myself come between you and the hole you have dug for yourself. I don't care if I get hurt, but I hate watching you destroy yourself, because there's nothing I can do to stop you- I don't get to decide what kind of person you are, and it enrages me.

It's sick actually. A punch in gut wouldn't make a difference, but watching you go hungry hurts. And you know it, thats why you do it.

And what do you do? You decide that I want you to be unhappy, for whatever reason that appeals to your twisted skull.
Over-reacting? Who do I think I am?
To be honest, it's a bad sign if you can't put life in perspective anyway. If you want proof, Rolf, all you have to do is wait. But I won't be around to say 'I told you so'.
Make your decisions now. I've tried and failed for too long. You never listen to what I say, you are incapable, it seems, of understanding the people closest to you.

So understand me clearly now. I will not clean your mess or cover for you. The choices before you are simple. You can understand the nature of three human beings you should have learnt of a long time ago, or you can keep living in the same kind of paranoia and become an ignorant victim of your own foolish pride before long. Why can't you be logical? Just- fucking understand when people tell you the truth to your face.

Soon enough, you won't have me to blame. Who are you going to point the finger at then?

Of course, you'll think that I'm lying. Because you are a fool, and for no other reason. What can I do about that? Nothing. It's unfair to expect you to grow a pair of eyes, isn't it?

It's a cruel joke that plays out.

Do I have to explain that as well? Probably, since you would choose not to figure it out if given half the chance.
You live in fear of deceivers and enemies, and monsters and ghosts, but the thing that will come closest to destroying you is the monster of your own making.

I'm not your worst enemy, I'm a distant second. The first is inside you. If you have decided to become that blind, self-serving creature, then I shall simply leave. But the day I stop fighting what I consider the worst in you will be the day I stop caring about you as a person, don't be too eager to rush to that conclusion.