love and other such inane stuffs

Sometimes, I think ..yes, please don't smirk, I can think. I think love is so over-rated. And sometimes i think I don't know what love really means. Is it the passion driven, lust stained, fight-infested thing I share with him? Am i capable of caring for anyone other than myself? Sometimes I think I lay too great an emphasis on my desires, my feelings that I come across as heartless and at times, I think what is life if it has not to do with me. I go void of all emotions at times - when I think 'to hell with everything, even me'...these days they prey on me more - my demons. And even sleep, my ally, seems to desert me. I hate the feeling of laying awake trying to lull my senses to sleep, of trying not to think of things that should not be thought of.
I could do with some LSD tablets. That or a whack on my head.

I thought I would take up candlemaking again after a hiatus of nearly 4 years. I wish I could start a small candle shop somewhere quiet, at the corner of a cobbled street, with bells on the door that will tinkle when someone walks in, I would serve tea to them and we would gossip about the weather...I will make candles in all colours of the rainbow and smelling of green apple and jasmine and rainforest and the rain..I will have quaint rugs on the floor, wispy curtains shielding the windows. I will paint the walls red and black ...I will have pictures on the wall- the one painting I fell in love with of a rain soaked street of Calcutta, the painting I never bought but I will find it one day..on rainy days, I will sit by the window with a book and watch raindrops play sliding games on the window panes..I will sip hot tea and though the tills would be almost empty and i would have to count my changes and think twice before I buy myself a book, I think i will be happy.