As If I Care..!

And the second in those series....Boy, I made lotta sense back then too! :)) Continuing from the previous post, a key element in loving yourself is taking care of yourself. Again,easier said than done. Why does it hurt so much when people walk away from your life? Why does one feel so lonely and down? How can someone have the ability to cause us pain in such a capacity? Why cant people let go easily? Why are so many tears and heartbreaks a part of the process? Nothing lasts.Really nothing does.At the end of the day,you are all by yourself.And most of the time,you are either sad or just plain blank.You wish for someone who could've being there to share your blues,but the stark reality is...even if someone is there,s/he wont be there forever. Rem'ber before those presentations/speeches/plays in front of an audience, no matter how much anyone told u to be confident, you always had to have a lil talk with yourself , assuring yourself that everything would be ok ? Tht "C'mo...

Something that I posted 2.5 years ago...still applies... I get hurt. Mebbe others get hurt too.And cry too.And get fed up of crying.Chuck everything, and say "To hell with this world"..decide to move on.And find themselves crying again. From my observation,good and nice people cry more.Coz u wouldnt come across bigger fools than them.Am not talking abt goodness or being nice as foolishness.The problem arises when they expect others to be good too.Why will others be good to u? Jus coz u were good to them? Ha! Quid pro quo works only if someone is rubbed the wrong way.Otherwise people are happy for being treated nicely and conveniently forget about it. To be loved in return.The eternal human need.Love.People want to love someone. And want to be loved in return.And my god,what all they endure for this! If only a fraction of that effort was spent in loving oneself... Ever thought if you love yourself? How much? How do you love yourself? What do u do when you love yourself? Why is...

I had a collection of poems...almost 10 years of collection with the choicest of romantic poems I had penned for my 'Dream Guy'. They were around 40 in number. After my first break-up, I burnt them all. I vividly remember that day on the terrace when I took my diary & a matchbox along with me. One by one, I tore the pages and added them to the fire. My sis came running up & shrieked at the sight. I continued till each one was gone. Those poems were the stable factor of my life...I hung onto them... he made me destroy my support system. Allwin was glad that I let it go...all those years of expectations, dreams, hopes that every girl has of her guy...I felt like a person with no history... I usually forgive people easily. I forgave & got over him for our breakup...but I shall never forgive him for what he did to my dreams. I hope he's reading this....for I hate him more than I can ever get myself to express. © Zarine.

I was going through my first blog on blogspot and realised how much I miss my MBA days. I chose to make that blog inaccessible...one gets re-directed to this one as soon as that one loads completely. But those days....those sleepless nights...worrying about subjects just before exams and countless projects & quizzes...those pals...buddies who get so busy in their current lives that memories of those days dont hit them even once in a while...how I was such a loner in those days...staying up blogging or chatting with pals over the Internet... Now the only thread that keeps me connected to that world is my guy...someone who found a mention even in the earliest of my posts' there....its difficult to explain how it feels to have your best buddy as your life partner...it feels like treasuring a part of your life....reliving it again & again...feeling that young & stupid & vulnerable all over.... a feeling of warmth... a complete feeling... coz here's someone who knows...

Darkness flows into me... From the sky high above Or from deep within me I know not. I appear calm on the surface From the still water below Or coz of the lost wind across I know not. I dont see the stars Due to the dark clouds Or due to my misty eyes I know not. I do know I can see just you As you transcend me Smooth and slow I do know I'd vanish into a cloud If I could feel you closer Feel you like my flow. How I wish I could embrace you But your likeness reflects on me Makes me feel complete, pure & true. O Moon, if it weren't for my Land...I would go beyond for you... © Zarine.

There often has been a debate on how an “MBA” actually helps or whether an MBA has skills which warrant the kind of pay packages that they attract. And more interestingly, we also have MBAs who, once into their job, crib about it and wonder “This is why I did my MBA for? “ I experienced an instance today wherein a group of MBAs from elite business schools were doing some pretty “not so MBA” work…removing price tags from books, to be precise. The books were to be given away in a business meeting and these folks did the selection, purchasing and now were gift wrapping it. Whilst this activity was on, one of them commented “Imagine I did my MBA for this!!! I really wonder what good that degree did to me!!?” At that point, I turned around and told her, “If you hadn’t done your MBA, what you are doing now for an hour would’ve been your job, day in & day out. And the reason you are doing what you doing now, is just to remind you how better off in life you are. And yeah, being...

  If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;   If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master; If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same: If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;   If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings, And never breathe a word about your loss: If you can ...