Most that I write are random things. Everytime, though, I manage to channelise what I write so that it fits under some category and title. But today, I dont feel like hiding the randomness. Its just too huge to be hidden. I’m in love. With my letters. My words. My phrases. My clichs. My accent. My writing. My language. So with yours. So with theirs. So with everybody else’s. Does that sound vaguely insane? Practically, yeah. Its kinda absurd that someone likes all that they say and read and re-read them . Its like licking your own ****. Lol. Or is it? I dont care however it is. I’m just all in love with what I write. They make me happy. When I read them again and again, they give me a tickle in my stomach. I take pride. 🙂
But now, is pride wrong? Vanity is. But pride isn’t. It makes a person. How can it be wrong then! But what you take pride in, is also important.
Words are precious to me. I’m proud coz I still have words for myself. May be not eloquent. May be not elegant. May be not appropriate. May be not even linguistically correct or socially accepted. May not be worth a read at all! But they are still mine. Having them as mine, and mine forever, with no one to claim over, I’m proud. I take pride in myself. Regain it for me.