Shut up.

I am angry. I really, really am. I don't know why. I'm just going to write crap like my usual self. It's pointless saying anything to anyone, hence the blog entry. Beware, this entry will contain the most haphazard stuff that won't make sense, even to me I'm predicting. So sometimes in our lives, we stand at a point where we fail to even recognize ourselves. Whatever we do, say or think suddenly seems to freaking foreign to us, it's as if someone else is controlling us, dictating our moves, shaking us to conform to something we always had an aversion for. It's annoying, it's freaky, it's just so pointless and beyond my comprehension skills. I feel like a puny little sixth grader, going goo-goo eyed at the miracles of this dark, dark world. And oh yes, let me not forget to add that I am getting better and better at making a fool out of myself too. So Sidra Chaudhry put herself in a position, so awkward and so weird that only she can feel what it's like. It's like trying to get on a revolving merry-go-round. I'm holding onto a pole, hopping up and down, trying to step onto the moving platform. All I see are swirls and funny horse heads bobbing up and down in front of my eyes and I'm just standing there clueless.