I'm sorry,but Women are just more Evolved

*Invisible reader* : Whaaa..? X.x
*Me*:Patience,my child.I shall explain.
So,um,I've this theory.and I will lamely try to explain it to you.I hope you don't come looking for me to murder me after this! Beware!I'm a Ninja.xD
Okay,see...I believe women are a way more evolved version of apes.
Look at this way..They are more emotionally secure.
They feel open to cry.
Well,men are still in the stone age that way.bottled up.Insecure.
It's like they've not developed a language compatible enough to express their feelings.
Also,men always consider most other men competition.they have this whole crazy thought process that they should be competing to have the best lady.and yet,they like having a flock of women.
Very stone age,that too!Back then,the prehistoric man wanted the sustainance of his clan,so he believed in polgamy.Tell me how much it's changed today?
Eh?
 I don't intend to say that women don't do all that ^
But,well,you know.Men do it in higher statistics.
Talking about the more superficial aspects,The posture.
Grace,elegance...it isn't expected form men?
They sit with their legs wide apart.Just like their prehistoric cousins?
 And...men are Hairier? Ugh.:| *gets akward* -_-
They have hair on their face also no?:P
*I know,I know,I'm such a genius no?* xD
Please don't kill me after reading this?

Words.:(

Sometimes,I hate the words people choose.
I think they deserved to be stabbed really hard.

Words hurt.Words hurt more than anything else can, because they last, sometimes forever.

 The other day I was at the swimming pool and I overhead a conversation that two kids were having.It went like :
#Older kid :"You're just a loser!"
#Younger one:"Well,you're just scared of losing to a junior.You're the loser"

this might sound relatively harmless,but are we fostering a generation of kids programmed to be mean?Where are the parents now that we need them?

Words damage you more than a very hard blow on your face.
Because a blow on your ego,your self esteem.It can kill you.
It is so saddening that we live in a world,
filled with people who lie and abuse all they want,and get away with it.
I believe that abuses are just a poor excuse for the lack of good vocabulary...and they're flying out from young mouths everywhere now.It's become "cool".
But everyday,millions of souls are wounded.and these wounds are quietly endured.
Do you know the statistics of suicide due to Bullying?Do you?
Do you know.. According to statistics reported by ABC News, nearly 30 percent of students are either bullies or victims of bullying, and 160,000 kids stay home from school every day because of fear of bullying?
And I know a lot of us have been there,the victim.Or just witnessing it.
 And if not either,we've been abused.and honestly,it doesn't feel great.
I think words should be allowed to be used only by people who don't abuse them.
Wouldn't it be wonderful?All the hurtful words you've heard in your life?Just disappearing?
Melting away?Never existing?
If only......
 

The Adventures of a teenage rebel.

They sat in a closed room.
5 PM.
Sun still high up.
They sat cross legged,facing each other.
Between them,The dry leaves.
It was a rite of passage.
One of them turned nineteen today.
Sorted.rolled.Perfect.
All that was needed was a matchstick,now.
I sat there,wondering...Is this what I'm going to turn into?
These people.These new adults that intrigue me.
These new adults,full of live and starry eyed.
So grown up,still so young.
 Maybe I'll be the same.
Maybe I won't.
I've never,ever seen the need to "experiment".
Am I weird?
Because I don't think it's glamorous.
It doesn't smell good,even!
It doesn't scare me,though.
I'm used to it...It's disgust that I feel.Detachment,even.
Well,it's just a very,very new world to me.
 

Free Falling.

Typical Friday night.
Dinnertime,
I'm in my Pyjamas,on the front lawn,
Weather's all breezy and cool.
I pluck at tufts of grass,
I look up now,
and there he is,
at the ledge of the terrace,
dressed in a thin grey sweater and an old pair of jeans,
slight stubble,
"He must be cold" I think,
But I don't ask him.
Instead I ask "Aren't you scared?"
"Of what?" he says.
"Falling?"I ask,voice deadbeat.
He doesn't answer.
He just stares back,long and hard,
but it isn't intimidating,at all.
Slowly,he drags a foot off the ledge,as if it were a heavy brick,
and then the other,
I freeze on the lawn,my mouth hangs open,"Are you out of your mind?Wake up!You aren't on a Skyscraper,Jaywalking" I scream.
But it's too late,
He's already on his way to the ground,
I close my eyes,
"Please be a nightmare.A horror movie"  I pray.
But when I finally gather the courage to look,
he's no longer there,
There's just a white feather,
falling to the ground,with all it's leftover grace,
Being beautiful,even as it reaches for it's death.
I reach for it,now.
It feels soft and warm against my sweaty palm,
I have a soul in my fist.

Reflection.

She looked at her image for the millionth time that morning,
She tried to search for something in it,
Something deeper,something different,
Newness,A change she hadn't noticed.
Nothing at all.
It was the same old Plane Jane staring back at her.
She saw flaws,Only flaws.
There was just so much wrong with her reflection,
Her hair was a mess,as usual.
Her face to worn  out.Eye bags.
A thousand silly,teenage thoughts raced through her head.
She wanted to be like all those other girls.
Almost Perfect.She knew they weren't perfect.
And it wasn't easy for them either.
But she'd Never,Ever be close to being a pretty face.
It wasn't so great a thing,she knew.
But sometimes,it got to her.
She'd never been called Pretty,
But she was Beautiful,
and deep down somewhere she knew it.
She  gripped onto the warm thought.
Her thoughts shifted now,
She tilted her head and gave a hint of a smile,
Then pulled a serious face,
Not taking her eyes off her reflection she wondered,
Why do we have to classify looks?
Why does it always have to work one way?
Why is it that only all the pretty girls have to be so important?
Why do girls have to be told they're pretty and still not believe it?
No one deserves to be called Ugly.
No one is ugly,actually.
It's all about the perspective.
If every girl would feel beautiful,
the way she is..
All flaws included.
Imagine how much more Happier they'd be,
The idea of beauty might have changed a lot
but Being Beautiful is knowing that you Are.
It's always been so.
No one can tell you're not.
She looked into the eyes in the mirror now,A strange new confidence
replacing the angst.
 

:)

Being Bipolar.

 Bipolar\Maniac Disorder :
Considered within the group of invisible illnesses, it is estimated that between 2% and 4% of the world’s population suffer from this mental illness to some degree, although its true impact is inestimable due to the difficulty of its diagnosis.


Terrible Morning,again.
Demons in my head.
Violence,noise,tears,
it fills up the empty spaces
of this dull gray May morning.
I was filled with elation just moments ago,
Now my soul feels dead.
I want to make it go away,
all the bad things,
The pain.
 I lift my head,heavy with exasperation,
I try to smile,
It doesn't work.
Patience has its end too.
Please make this go away.
Times come,when Happiness reaches its heights too.
But times like this,

is what scare me.
That someday being Bipolar would completely get out of my control.
I want nothing at all.Just The End of this.
The End.