I find it so weird that every letter begins with a dear and ends with love, after

all not everyone is dear to me nor worthy of my worded love. But then again, pr
etty much everything in the world is a little weird, so are we.
If there were caravans we could hop on so that they could take us to Charlies cho
colate factory, I swear this world wouldnt want to get rid of its sweet tooth any
time soon.
Its a little funny how they say economics is all about profit and loss but you kn
ow what truly matters are the inequalities, the constant buffering in your mind
as to which equations to integrate and which metro station would give you the sh
ortest route to Parathe wali gali, and hey, if your life isnt semi-fiction alread
y, mine certainly is.
I cant sleep with the lights on, but I dont tell this to the seniors in front of m
e, scribbling notes out of dyslexic digits, college hoodie showing itself off, m
osquitoes sleeping on our beds more than us, exams feel like festive season, dont
they? They do to me.
I still cant get over the aged lady at the airport who asked us to make a phone c
all, probably to her son, announcing on the phone shes arrived safely, pride and
content in her eyes. Gate no. 5 of the arrivals section was never happier.
Budweiser cans lie testimony to long nights and bad hangovers, of friends who re
member the vodka shots and forget the black coffee of the next morning, of frien
ds who always speak, never listen, of friends you wish werent friends anymore.
I m tired, you see. 8 hours in college is kind of satisfying though. I have noth
ing much to write, but worth buckets of caramel popcorn to tell.
Until the next time, love.