Best ramona_paid Shayari, Status, Quotes, Stories

Ramona Singh

+ Follow

Report AbuseCopy Text

High spirits! I am in high spirits! And I will write the way I used to! And I will not stop using abrupt exclamation! Marks! Because! I have time! To write! Everything out! Without judging myself. (Those exclamation marks were a bit too tacky :p) I've got so many things to share with you. I have finally recognized what caused bad feelings for normal feelings. I'm understanding the nature of my emotions better, because I had always thought that there are clearly defined areas to feel, like if one feels joy in their hands, it's wrong, or if someone feels sad on their lower backs, it's very wrong. Nup nup nup. I've learnt that it's not wrong to feel gratitude on your butt and jealousy in your heart, because you are not definite. I'm methaphoring body parts as areas or incidents where one is supposed to feel an emotion, a specific emotion, like sadness at death and anger in an argument. But we are NOT definite! I (a sort of less productive and time-takey person) have changed my bricks in one week, so imagine, imagine if y'all did that in a day?! And still felt guilty for feeling sadness in a fight and fury at death? That would be Absurd. Absurd. I won't cheesily reference the galaxy and the universe, and the smallness of earth and stuff, because that's plain relativity. (I just wish I could say it like a speech and you could hear the audio because I feel confident and good in my skin today. Too good.) itna gyaan diya ki sab chod ke chale gaye honge. Jo bache hain, vo sunenge pate ki baat. _ So okay here's the goss: I washed my hair, smelled nicer than a high school girl, and went shopping. For three continuous days. Even when I had a big deadline for three projects. And I brought a spiffing lot of powerful clothes. Wore my heels. Posed confidently. That got me feeling great! Even though I had to try like, 20 clothes, in a changing room with doubtable lights, and cramped up space. And then when I was too indecisive and couldn't select one of the pantsuits, I had to remove my boots and my jeans and everything ALL OVER AGAIN to try them on again. It was EXHAUSTING, but worth it. I now know the difference between panic and sadness, and love and hunger. It's easy, navigating inside me, especially if you're a good bacterium. I've learnt to exhaust myself with things I like. So after the shopping round, I ate aloo-tikki, and those were the best days ever! Then, finally, I wrote 20 pages and immersed myself into it. That's it. Life is simple. I can make it simpler or complicated-er. It doesn't matter. I can be sophisticated and simple and kind and rude and infinite when I need to. I can make versions of me. The meanings really don't matter as long as I am

High spirits! I am in high spirits! And I will write the way I used to! And I will not stop using abrupt exclamation! Marks! Because! I have time! To write! Everything out! Without judging myself. (Those exclamation marks were a bit too tacky :p) I've got so many things to share with you. I have finally recognized what caused bad feelings for normal feelings. I'm understanding the nature of my emotions better, because I had always thought that there are clearly defined areas to feel, like if one feels joy in their hands, it's wrong, or if someone feels sad on their lower backs, it's very wrong. Nup nup nup. I've learnt that it's not wrong to feel gratitude on your butt and jealousy in your heart, because you are not definite. I'm methaphoring body parts as areas or incidents where one is supposed to feel an emotion, a specific emotion, like sadness at death and anger in an argument. But we are NOT definite! I (a sort of less productive and time-takey person) have changed my bricks in one week, so imagine, imagine if y'all did that in a day?! And still felt guilty for feeling sadness in a fight and fury at death? That would be Absurd. Absurd. I won't cheesily reference the galaxy and the universe, and the smallness of earth and stuff, because that's plain relativity. (I just wish I could say it like a speech and you could hear the audio because I feel confident and good in my skin today. Too good.) itna gyaan diya ki sab chod ke chale gaye honge. Jo bache hain, vo sunenge pate ki baat. _ So okay here's the goss: I washed my hair, smelled nicer than a high school girl, and went shopping. For three continuous days. Even when I had a big deadline for three projects. And I brought a spiffing lot of powerful clothes. Wore my heels. Posed confidently. That got me feeling great! Even though I had to try like, 20 clothes, in a changing room with doubtable lights, and cramped up space. And then when I was too indecisive and couldn't select one of the pantsuits, I had to remove my boots and my jeans and everything ALL OVER AGAIN to try them on again. It was EXHAUSTING, but worth it. I now know the difference between panic and sadness, and love and hunger. It's easy, navigating inside me, especially if you're a good bacterium. I've learnt to exhaust myself with things I like. So after the shopping round, I ate aloo-tikki, and those were the best days ever! Then, finally, I wrote 20 pages and immersed myself into it. That's it. Life is simple. I can make it simpler or complicated-er. It doesn't matter. I can be sophisticated and simple and kind and rude and infinite when I need to. I can make versions of me. The meanings really don't matter as long as I am

Ramona Singh

+ Follow

Report AbuseCopy Text

December 14 I have never attempted to understand this. Why would I have ever done that?   I was only 3 when she passed away. My sister. It wouldn't have affected me, a 3-year-old little girl. But when I do feel the need to accept and understand this loss, and grief, and some weird visual memories I still remember, I will write it out. Please bear with me while I expose what I had never intended to, because the visuals, the scenes I am going to recall, those are hazy and incomplete. (I will refer to Ma as

December 14 I have never attempted to understand this. Why would I have ever done that?   I was only 3 when she passed away. My sister. It wouldn't have affected me, a 3-year-old little girl. But when I do feel the need to accept and understand this loss, and grief, and some weird visual memories I still remember, I will write it out. Please bear with me while I expose what I had never intended to, because the visuals, the scenes I am going to recall, those are hazy and incomplete. (I will refer to Ma as