When I close my eyes, I feel the touch of your fingers on my lashes.
There is a scent of wet mud and hot sun in my room.
I have no room.
The feeling of your touch goes away as soon as it came as if it never was there and then, right in the centre of my chest a little towards the left, I feel a void that marks it’s existence every now and then.
I lose my sleep over the replayed flashes.
I have neither roll nor camera.
You come to me in the silence of the dark when sleep sits peacefully in my eyes.
You conquer. I am no longer myself.
Your being overpowers my existence and I become like a torn leaf in a storm that you bring and I go wherever you take me.
I have no where to go. You leave.
I dance to the full moon and sing to the sun rise and shine brightly like a fresh flower in the morning making everything around me romantic and exquisite.
One fainting breeze of you.
Spring of life becomes an apocalypse.
We are a generation of almosts,
We almost achieved what we dreamt of,
We almost dated the one we loved,
We almost made it through.
We are a bunch of people who abandon things at the last leg.
We are the people who seek Independence while being co-dependent.
We are the people who love but don’t hold on to it.
We are the ones who believe that there is always a second chance.
We leave things in the hope of them coming around.
We are not alive. We are neither dead.
We are an almost all the while.
We are almost dead while being almost alive.
To love is the most personal thing ever. You just identify one human and make him or her the subject of your affection. We human beings are born with a heart and in this real world of fake people and transient forevers, this heart of ours gets beaten up often and we become this cold distant humans whose hearts are locked up because we are too afraid of love and feeling vulnerable. That feeling when your soul is absolutely naked in front of someone you love is unsettling, it gives you a pittish feeling in the centre of your chest and your bosom feels ached to be hugged and held tight but that doesn’t happen and you continue to live like that feeling that void and carrying it with you wherever you go. You don’t know the beloved’s heart. You may know it and it may break your heart but you still choose to keep going on feeling strange and having that heart on your sleeve because for a moment Rumi’s words heal you and you believe in universe and destiny and Ted Mosby who taught you to never give up on someone you love even when it completely destroys you and there you are smiling and going on as if nothing has happened while your heart lays exposed like never before. I have got only one thing to say here-
just own it like you have always owned it. Afterall hearts were made to be broken. Keep showing off the sleeve.
Or maybe just fade off slowly while you bleed with your heart on the sleeve. But never lock the heart inside. Never.
1. Inner peace is not over-rated.
You know what. I am having an existential crisis. And I am the independent girl you would like to call when you are in crisis. I have always thought meditation and looking for peace is over rated. Trust me it is not. Yes I do feel awkward sitting by myself trying to chant “Om Shanti Om, I am a peaceful soul.” Because clearly I am not. I try to calm my demons every now and then and there they are dancing around fire ignoring my attempts for serenity and laughing right back at me and when I get exhausted, I enjoy their company. Let inner peace take a backseat.
2. Comfortably Numb.
This feeling of being comfortably numb is as addictive as coffee. One just craves to be there if you’re going either way. Happiness comes with *Conditions Apply. And when moving on towards sadness, comfortably numb is an alluring destination. We don’t realize that there’s no destination in life, it is a journey with stations to stop by. But you know I keep missing my trains often.
3. I am a needy girl but I won’t accept this fact.
I am a normal girl (well not exactly normal). I want a good career. I like to be independent but at the same time, I have the same dreams like any stereotypical girl, that I often judge. I do crave having a relationship. I do wish for a guy to pamper me with clichéd romantic gestures. I do wish to have a perfect relationship with my girlfriends, have nightouts, pajama parties, sleep overs and gossip sessions. Instead I hide behind this statement, “I find all of this boring, reading books is my escape” well books are indeed my escape but these things are not boring. I just call them boring because I don’t get to do all of this. I like to have attention. When people appreciate me for my work, for my strength I like it. I don’t take criticisms really well but I am learning to. I am fairly independent yet not so independent. I fight my own battles yet I like someone to be around just to listen to me. I might say I am okay even when I am not but then I will tell you everything that bothers me if you say you have time to listen to me when I ask “do you have time? Can I rant a little?”
I know I can manage everything in life because I have been doing that. But that doesn’t negate my needs and desires which I often mock at just to make myself feel comfortable. I am a needy girl but I won’t accept this fact.
4. I think I’ll make it anyway.
Despite 1,2,3 I still think I can make it because I do have the best people in life. I do have the best of books to depend on. I do have an amazing family and career and teachers. Romance is not everything I am told. Maybe someday I will start living without the desire for romance because trust me rest everything I have.
5. Why are you reading this? What you shall gain by reading about a girl like me?
You’re reading this because we’re all made of the same stardust and I want you to know that we all have our shortcomings, some we accept, some we don’t. But we all make it anyway. We all are blessed in so many ways even when we all have been broken at one point. Let’s just hold on to our dear ones and twist our lives through because walking straight is not our thing after all these years.
Pictures source: Internet. Quote by Sylvia Plath
I am a Hopeless Romantic. I dream every moment of my life. I believe in those dreams. Reality often tries to give me new spectacles so that I could see reality but I like these illusions in my head that appear real. I will gift you a bouquet of red roses to let you know I love you. I will sing you songs whose lyrics would describe how much you mean to me because my eyes will speak silently and you’re dumb and don’t understand the silence. I will cook pancakes for you on sunday because you love them. You will be my poetry and like spring winds you’ll flow. I will do things for you that you wouldn’t even know. I will help you to go wherever you want to go. Most importantly I would love you enough to let go unless you want to come back to me. Because I believe in true love. Because deep down I am a hopeless romantic even though I act like I am not. But I do know that I am one looking for “The One.” But I think I am the so called “the one” because deep down I am in love with the idea of love. Again I am allowed to dream. So why not? Let’s be in love with the one. We are the one.