no point of this point.



Hello there, you seem new here. Have not seen you around before. Are you revisiting?

Make yourself comfortable. Viki is asleep right now.
I am Viki's soul. A twisted, convoluted, whisky soaked, rum glazed, crazed and unfazed jealous soul. I am her, she is me; I am him and Him.

I am an asexual, non-entity. Her ‘point’ if you may. Her emotional center of gravity.

Sometimes functioning as the Narad muni between her analytical skills and her emotional standing. Sometimes am the light bearer and other times her confidence beater. I am deep seated inside her. Sometimes in her gut, her fatigued bowel turning round and about die to her anxieties.

It is not easy; melancholia has claimed lives of many good times, every big day clouded by a dark grey cloud bearing doubt. Mistakes are pointed out and noted while the applause goes out of focus. Well in all these years the applause has died down and she has let go. Friends have reduced from a trickle to none at all. I don’t blame them you know. She was never a keeper, always brooding, pointing out mistakes and then losing interest midway leaving herself in the lurch without even realising it.

It is rude to talk about yourself but I guess when no one is listening it does not really matter.

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