Four Silly Alphabets
“If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad… If it makes you happy then why the hell are you so sad?”
Melissa Earthridge’s screaming that into my earphones as I type. Actually a certain band called “Wet Wet Wet” inspired this particular post. The soft pop music flowed into my ears as I was just lounging around on the verandah staring thirteen floors below, just hanging around.
In case you’re wondering whatever happened to grunge and indie music, the stuff that flows through my veins all the time, well, I’d plugged in my cousin’s iPod, and she’s a normal kid. Thus the “normal” tunes.
But this is not a battle of the genres of any sort. And even as I type, corny-pop after corny-pop’s still going on. Wait, Flipsyde just came on. I like Flipsyde.
Again, *smacks self for swaying away from the topic*
If you’re like me, into The Doors and Nirvana and Carolina Liar, completely edgy and NON-mush, then you’d probably get disgusted by anything balmy and illogical and would rather pull blithe, absurd faces if people started a conversation on anything related to tear jerking schmaltz. Kudos, to people like us. We’re not harsh, we’re just *not* sentimental at all times.
I have a feeling, I have bipolar disorder, because at times, I comprehensively lose my mind, and get crazy and hyper and would give the best bunny on the planet competition where jumping around’s concerned. And these are the times when I might even blurt out, “OMG! I LOVE YOU!”
Honestly, I don’t mean it. Because to mean it, I would first have to figure out the meaning, where whatever intended’s, concerned. I’ve only ever loved a few things. That are extremely close to me. But apart from that, it’s a flighty word, used in almost every second song, dialogue, book, what not.
And it just creates a mess, like all the time. Wrecks up the different regions of your brain, entangles your wires, disarrays your cells, and basically, creates disorder.
“Falling” into this particular adjective’s more like a trick. Someone probably gambles your aortic pump like Jim Sturgess gambled money on 21. And we all know he cheated.
It causes major ounces of hurt. Even if all you ‘love’ is your little snuggly soft wallaby. Because you know it’s not a real thing, so after a point you’d just get annoyed.
Oh yeah, it gets kinda boring too. Especially for someone like me, I just can’t cope with all kinds of mush and nonsensical talk. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried and attempted but today when I was listening to all that irrational, moronic music, that only melodiously speaks about bubblegummy crushes and “Break up with him,”..and/or… “Make it work, stick around,”.. it hit me that I just can’t do that stuff. It’s not the way I roll.
Spontaneity’s my key word. And that’s something that usually gets lost once this word creeps into your existence. Pretending to be someone I’m not is worse than actually admitting to feeling that emotion.
These four letters clubbed together probably exist to remind us that even the strongest of all strong hearted of us can easily be exposed to our weak, vulnerable entities.
However, watch any movie, read any book, every single thing’s inspired by some or the other kind of an inclination towards that single, simple emotion.
You never know what’s gonna happen to you. And you can’t really control these emotions.
It’s just a thought, only a thought.
Love, nevertheless, is noise.
x EdgyShark x