Faces.

15TH October, 2017 (3:19HRS)

Ten faces. All in a circle, surrounding me, looking at me, just staring, but hard. A sharp pain in my chest wakes me up to a flash where I’m once again surrounded by darkness. I switch on my flashlight to see if they’re there, but nothing. And that’s where I’m lost.

I take out my laptop, come outside my desolated room, once crowded by my insomniac wander-less thoughts and a messed up table, take the cleanest place I could find on the marble floor right adjacent my wooden room and start.

Organizing my cluttered up highway of a mind, is probably the world’s most difficult task that even a team of the universe’s best experts won’t be able to solve. It’s a mystery none have succeeded to conquer yet. De-cluttering is my favorite past time these days, and having come to a point where I’m finally getting time to write again, is a feeling of euphoria.

You know that saying right? The one that says that if you can get a person drunk, you can get him open. The grey spectrum no longer exists then. The house of black and white reign. Sometimes they co-exist, sometimes either dominates.

There comes a point in your life where there’s this one thing that you’ve been preparing your whole life for, you know you want it and you’ve done everything for it, but just like ashes they fly into the ocean, lost forever, swimming with the fish that have torn bits and pieces of your flesh like piranha, leaving you scarred. You do know you yourself are the cause, you don’t blame anyone, and somewhere that’s the aching scar in your heart, the pain in my chest.

My roommates are sleeping inside, unaware of the fact that their is lying sleepless outside in the cold. But I guess there’s a point in everyone’s life where you just have to deal with your own shit, alone. Here’s mine.

3rd January, 2018 (02:09HRS)

A piece of shard comes flying into this façade of mine, a large one at that. A moment later I’ve been turned to my side, my head kissing the once crystal clear side-window of my car, now wine-red, painted with my blood that ceases to stay within me. I can smell smoke in the air that chokes me, soon blackening the edges of my vision, just as it does the inside of my four-wheeled friend. Right before it all goes dark, a hand pulls at my soaked flannel blue basketball T-shirt.

I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but when my eyes open, I realize, not long. Familiar faces surround me, one has a square face with an exceptionally well maintained jaw-line and that familiar black watch that never leaves that hand, my best friend, the one that pulled me out. The others seem hazy, but I can make out that they’re people I live with (in the hostel). As a flash back I start to remember every scene like a movie. He was to take the car out that day, but for some childish reason I got my way to take it for a ride. I’m so glad I did, if it wasn’t me, it would have been him. Now, when I see his face, I’m content that I took that decision, if I was able to save his life by giving mine away, I’m okay with that. I could never live with the fact that I could have done something.

I call him close so that he can listen to my whispered thoughts, my last words, “Tell her, she was the best thing to have ever happened to me in this life.” I had been in love with her since October 15th, 2017. Or maybe since before, but realized it on that day. On the last day of the year that 2017 was, I made him promise me to let her know that I love her and always have. I just didn’t know it would happen so soon. Just as I was ending, she came. I caught a glimpse of her face and I knew I shouldn’t have. I could no longer feel the wind on my face, or smell that smoke, or see that beautiful tree above my head that stood for a thousand years guarding that place. All that was in front of me was that face of hers, that perfectly carved round visage, those luscious long black hair that brightened her up, and those ebony black summer night eyes that you’d simply get lost in. A brief mini-second after, all was gone.

You know those days when you regret something and just wish with all your little fairy wishes that some blessed soul will come and reverse it all? That was exactly that day. I wished I had just a minute more to say Goodbye, to tell her it’s okay, that you can live without me. But nope. That never happened, I was an unfinished story, a letter incomplete, a teardrop in the rain, unnoticed, slipping by silently into the green oasis that once stood tall in some far off land quenching the thirst of passersby’s.

That teardrop was real, I felt my pillow soaked with a trillion of them. I was never able to lie from you now, was I? Well, this is me telling you the truth. People are a mess. Some are small, some are big. Some silent, some loud. Some scattered, some concise. Whatever it is, people are messed up. You’d ask me what kind of mess you are, I’d say, mine. You’re my mess.

I loved you when we were just laughing at some stupid not-so-laughable joke I made. I loved you when you were bandaged up and I stayed back to take care of you despite the fact that that meant my entire five-day vacation. I loved you when one message of mine saying “Bro?” made you call me to ask me if I’m okay. Or the time when I was going to do something that might have broken my heart and you told me you’d come home even at 2AM if I needed you, all I had to do was give one ring. I loved you when I didn’t speak to you for more than a week because I thought you didn’t understand me and didn’t care, when actually you were still finding out from other people if I was okay. You knew I needed you, and in some way you were still there. You needed me too, I could see that in your eyes when it was too much for you or me to take. I have loved you always, and always will. But maybe you’re mine in some alternate reality, the cat in the bag. Not everyone is looking for a soulmate. In this life, maybe I was just meant to be a Joey to a Phoebe, my Phoebe.

You’ve always told me to take that risk, to date that person, to take that job and to do the things that scare me because they’re worth it. Well, this is me, taking that risk. But not loving you is hard. I have to keep reminding myself that I’ve lost you to another man. But then maybe, you were never mine to begin with. All I can tell you is, “Don’t lose him.” I know you’ll ask me why. Well, all I can say is, “He looks at you just the way I do.”

Love,

A Devastated Dreamer?

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Alive?

There’s a gun pointed at my head. I can feel the cold metal tip of its muzzle graze the side of my temples, a shiver it sends down my spineless spine that ceases to shake it off. There’s a race that’s taking place somewhere in my chest, my heart winning by a streak of a hundred-fifty, it’s too fast and I’m afraid it might just fall off the cliff like a racing wagon gone out of control. I look the other way to find you in chains made of a similar metal screaming to let me go, but in vain the plea remains.

A moment passes and there are hounds surrounding you, not having been fed for seven days can make even a lonely man a savage. Precisely the reason why cannibalism existed and originated from The Island Carib people of the Lesser Antilles who acquired a long-standing reputation of cannibals following the recording of their legends in the 17th century. Speaking of cannibalism among humans, animals can go wild too if left unfed for a long duration of wasted time. These vicious beasts surround you, with blood dripping down the side of your head from where he stabbed you, the smell of the red fluid enticing them, increasing their eager appetites, waiting for a call from their master who’s held me captive under duress, at gunpoint.

A second passes and the gun changes direction, I feel a pang at my chest, something flows out of the hole created there, all I see is that it’s red and a lot, everything’s fuzzy around, through the corner of my eyes I watch as the hounds scatter in all directions, some birds too fly by haphazardly, I now realize I’m shot, but there’s no pain, or maybe there’s so much pain that my body can’t comprehend what it is. The sound was loud enough to numb my senses, I don’t even feel the cold cemented ground when my body hits it with a thud. I hear another shot and look at you. Your eyes keep staring at me, those pleading eyes now grey and emotionless, unthinkingly stare into the vast black space that soon surrounds mine.

My face is wet with salty water, I realize that I’m crying. It’s been ages that I’ve cried now, nightmares? I didn’t know I could have them, being happy can sometimes bring the worst fears alive in our subconscious minds playing them like a movie, over and over again on repeat who’s remote we’ve long lost under the cushions of those sofas that faded as we spent our lives on them.

Loss isn’t really a loss but more like the absence of a presence. One that finds its home in every square millimeter of this love-deprived world called our Earth. People keep talking about leaving not realizing what happens when their wishes are fulfilled. Just the other day I was having a chat with my grandmother about marriage and how I’ll be the first in our family to tie the bonds of seven lives, what she joked about was whether she’ll even be around to capture the moment. It’s funny, the old people talk about going to this far-away place all the time, yet it seems like it’s infecting the youth of our societies more than an average outspread of malaria. Shouldn’t you be lucky to be living in this moment?

There are millions of people who die every day, millions who are born too, but few who live. We follow this certain lifestyle where we perform these certain tasks at specific points in the day that basically show the monotony of how things are in our sleep-deprived lives. In between when we have some free time we meet these random souls with whom we connect and make these relationships that leave us broken when they end, such a waste of time. It’s funny with us humans, we know when they’ll leave and yet we continue to make a bond that grows stronger till the finish line arrives and we know we have to stop. It’s worse when you’re the one leaving, it’s tougher to leave everything behind and start afresh, a new life, new relationships, new hearts to rhyme with, and more space for new holes to be made in their place.

In these fast few months I’ve come across some amazing and beautiful people who have turned out to become such an inseparable part of my life that now when they’re gone, it’s hard to imagine having lived a life without them in it. Many of my firsts were with them, many of my lasts too. I couldn’t imagine a second without seeing their faces in college, a moment without the feeling of security that someone’s there. They were the “us” in my bubble. And now it’s burst.

My bae keeps telling me to get a life and stop moping about the fact that I don’t have one anymore. He’s trying too, he understands what I’m going through but only wants me to stay happy. I am trying buddy.. I am. The fact is, I was alive with them around, now it just seems like I’m living only in my body, my mind doesn’t seem to comprehend the fact that the inertia has ended, it doesn’t want to disappear, neither do I.

Everyone around me has some or the other crisis going on in their lives, it’s like everyone’s done with life and yet trying to continue. I feel their pain, honestly I do, I feel everything everyone’s going through, I somehow always feel like I have the power to take their pain all away and I try, but fail. I realize I’ve become the person who’s bent on fixing everyone’s problems but hurting myself in the process of realizing that I can’t. I’ve become the saddest happy person, the loneliest loved person, the lost and found person. Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts? I want to take away all the pain in this world, make everything right everywhere. Maybe then we’d be alive, I’d be alive.

Broken Ships.

It’s been long having written anything here now. Not that I haven’t been writing, just not here. A bunch of things have happened that have changed people, changed me and somehow I have a feeling this won’t continue anymore.

Attachment is something of a disease, a parasite. Like how a virus attacks a fragile body and doesn’t leave until and unless some external force pulls it out of the system with a bang that creates an explosion, leaving a crater so deep that even the marina trench disappears in its wake. Like how the tapeworm lives off the life of an organism, depriving it of its essential emotions and mental peace that is the necessity of any living being.

Inspiration is rare, few have the ability to possess and spread it. I’ve met a few, some still with me, some more recently gone. My writing was an inspiration from someone who himself loved writing poetry to vent out his feelings and moods, someone who recently celebrated completing a hundred of them and gave a small treat to all his students on his success. He never got them published, wrote for the pleasure of people he cared about, never wrote for any real purpose, just to remain happy. Such people are the jewels of the world, spreading joy through simple pleasures of life like taking his beloved Pomeranian dog for a walk each evening after work, bathing her so that nothing happens to her beautiful white coat, also giving life lessons to confused people like me who still require his guidance and always will.

Family is everything, even people who considered you like family, are everything. Treating someone like his own daughter is something only a few people care about in this mean and self-centered world of ours, he always did. People who care about each other fight, we did too, but in the end we always made up, whether he was wrong or I was, like always. Family is always there through the tough times, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, he always was, still is and always will be, I believe that.

One second is all it takes for life to change in an instant. One you’re there, the next you’re gone. Unpredictability is the horcrux of life. You can never know what may happen to you the next moment. An explosion can kill you in a flash if a terrorist planned an attack in your locality, poison mixed in a glass of coffee by a killer can painfully torture your lungs for breath, an earthquake naturalized by the earth can swallow you up by breaking up the ground beneath your feet, even a fatal mistake of placing your hand on a running faulty electrical motor for a moment’s support of rest can stop your beating heart and put it to rest forever.

Love isn’t rare, genuine love is. People who love others without expecting anything in return are the people you should love. Sometimes, in fact most times those same ones are taken for granted and swept under the carpet like lost dust, a lost letter or an email that should have been saved but deleted without knowing the value it had until it was too late, until you couldn’t recover it anymore, lost forever.

Making a point to spend a few months with an ailing father every year without fail was something that added a few more young years to the rejuvenated frail body of a 90+ old grandfather of two of the man. Time is something that’s disappearing from the busy and hectic lives of office-goers and college students, to make that much is something of an inspiration. Yet no father would ever even dream of having to put his son in the grave before his own time, the opposite is the expected case, mostly not even that.

Teaching is an art, very few can perfect or master it, some learn to develop it, and others are simply born with it. He was the latter. Giving thoughtful, personal, touching advice to young people like us who are so lost in this haze, was his specialty. Caring about the well-being of his students, congratulating and giving small parties on big achievements of his mentees was a ritual that was followed up after each one, big or small, each was celebrated. The sound of cheer and laughter will never bounce off those walls of that small basement anymore, an entire collection of books from the 20th century lining those walls will be lost in the dust now, a graveyard of memories and moments that will now linger on only in the minds of those who lived them while they lasted, while they could.

My first poems were shown to him, giving me genuine advice on improvement was something I didn’t even have to expect, it just came from him. By showing me his writing, inspiration developed and my ride started. I’ve written a lot since then, in fact I’ve started writing a novel, an epistolary of sorts, a collection of thirteen stories of which I’ve completed one. He would have been so proud of me, I bet he is right now too. I wish I would have met him before this happened, at least one last goodbye? I guess I should have valued time, it never waits for anyone, a single skip in a heartbeat can kill a person, a single sperm can create one.

Connected.

People say it’s alright to be alone at times. Helps clear your head and make things look sharper and straighter than they seem. But being lonely, that’s a whole different level.

I’m sitting in a metro train travelling to a mall in Delhi and I see all these people here, listening to music with earphones plugged to their ears oblivious of their surroundings. I look around and see that that’s everyone. Our earphones, mobile phones and technology have become such a big part of our lives that they’re inseparable. I’m not saying I’m any different, but look at the reality now! Everyone is so lost and connected to their tablets and laptops that they’ve lost human connection. I agree that technology is made to help connect you with people at far distances from your location, but doesn’t anyone see what it has done to the people actually in their vicinity? It has led to the psychiatric industry booming with more and more people consulting for a chronic disorder termed commonly as “loneliness”.

Anyone can be lonely. I too am lonely at times. There are times such as these where I feel it the most. It kind of jogs my memory of all the depressing and worst moments of my life and somehow it always manages to make me realize how alone people are in this world. Every person has at some point in their lives experienced a moment of nothingness and sadness due to the absence of someone close or rarely anyone. In every chapter of your life, you meet new people and make different friends and colleagues whether at your workplace or some place you waltz to for leisure. But every time, you slowly lose touch with the ones you made in the starting of your journey. And this is something that keeps on repeating until you hardly have any real close friends left. This leads to the addiction to technology as a desperate attempt to hold on to anything that remains, anything that resembles a feeling of being complete and whole. It’s good to want to stay in touch, but the mistake everyone commits is not realizing what it does to the people who are there in their lives at that very moment. It distances the present in turn making a gamble for the future. The past is the past. You can never go back to it, just hold on to its memories and live on.

I believe that everyone has a purpose in their lives before which they never leave this world. I also believe that every person that comes in our lives also has a purpose which they fulfil before leaving that chapter. Whether it is for a brief period of time or a really long one, it never ceases to leave an impact and impression on the recipient. I believe in a lot of things, after all belief is the only thing that keeps you going, doesn’t it? Just always remember, don’t let the opportunity of a wonderful human being entering your life be lost because of things that hardly matter or mattered very much at a point in your life that no longer exists. Move on from the past and start each chapter with a new vigor and never lose the human connection. Go have a coffee with a classmate or a movie with a close friend. Any physical interaction that creates a bond that lasts a lifetime. Doesn’t have to even be planned! Sudden meetings are the best. Just be connected. Because if you don’t, it’s the worst. Trust me, I speak with experience.

I’ve arrived at my destination now, meeting up with a few college friends. I’m still on the road of recovery, but I’ll be there soon.

Girl On A Ride

“Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.” -Joseph Campbell

I’m disoriented. Lost. Alone. Sitting in a corner at an engagement, surrounded by people I’ve never met, so many unfamiliar faces. Not just here, but in the world too. So many people I don’t know, so many stories, so many tales to hear. Everyone has a story to tell. Each is a storyteller. I have one too.

Having been brought up in two different continents and three different countries, I can honestly say that I have many to narrate. Many of which have led to my destiny and fate today.

Having had a passion for the sport of racquets and balls, hobbies quite common to lonesome poets such as this, and interests in stories people bring with them from lands I have not had the honour of visiting, I landed up in the hospitality industry studying the art of pleasing people in the most reputed institute of the country in a city considered one of the most dangerous places to survive in. Now how does a girl like that end up in a place like this? Partly because I love to make people happy, mostly because it brings me peace. I know it’s hard to imagine a hospitality student saying this, what with all the long hectic working hours and the day-long criticism faced by every living being virtually present in the presence of the Boss, the captor of our lives, the enemy? Or rather our mentor, the person who guides us towards success, praises us for our achievements and also reprimands us for showing our weaknesses and failing to be true to ourselves. Despite that, it is true.

Coming from a place with simple people and a greener environment, it was pretty hard to adjust considering the circumstances I was thrown into and the field I chose. But just like a puppy learns to accept its master and comes to love it, I too fell into the trap. Staying in a small yet large family of forty-six, I have learnt those lessons one doesn’t so commonly come to terms with living at home. A home with forty-six different faces, forty-six stories and forty-six beating hearts. Each with their own shortcomings and goodness. Single entities united by a single purpose of survival, though for varied reasons.

There is good in everyone, and if there is good, there will always be evil. It is true that people change after visiting a new place, after living the lives of other people. I too changed, not for the better, but for the worse. I have this habit of observing things, people, and changes in them, very closely absorbing every detail in my brain cells and remembering them. I used to do that for people but for the right reasons, looking for the good changes. Of late, that changed. Why? Because I chose to. You can’t always pretend to be happy even when you’re not. I love change, hate constancy, but lately that has reversed. Having been faced with situations that only led to my downfall, my optimism was soon transformed into a quality more sought after by masochists. Someone told me that this will only lead to the death of my conscience, my soul. I don’t know why I chose to ignore it, maybe because I thought that person didn’t know what it meant to be me. I was wrong.

I have a million flaws, one of which being immature. I know I do stuff and say stuff that I don’t mean. I say it out of anger, actions taken when I’m angry or too happy tend to destroy me due to the very fact that they aren’t me. I’ve lost a lot of people to anger, some more recent, and others long forgotten. My mother once told me that anger is a person’s worst enemy. I realize that she was right, always. I repent for it now.

People have always asked me why I trust them. Truth is, I really don’t know. I just do. There may have been actions that they took, words that they said, that reminded me of people I once cared about, people who put their trust in me. Maybe I saw these people in them, or maybe just glimpses of the past. Nonetheless, they were there.

Someone once said they saw a leader in me, but I don’t. I am nothing here, I never was anything. I honor the faith my friends put in me, but I am just a speck of dust on this planet, what could I possibly achieve that would change anything? Things may seem like they’re changing, but sooner or later, things become constant again. Like when you join school being a toddler, it’s a big change, but soon that becomes constant too, maybe for a brief time, but it is constant. College is too, maybe for a shorter time, but nonetheless it is. We can never really change anything in this world. We can only try and be greater than what we are now. Strive to achieve small goals that will bring a better constant for the future. I may have been optimistic and pessimistic, but now I feel it’s not worth it. One should never be on one side of the pendulum, being in the center is what makes you rise.

It’s a strange world. A small world. You meet people. You separate, may be due to physiological barriers or psychological ones. And then, somehow fate has this weird way of bringing those people back, together. But it doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes you have to accept the fact that some people will never come back, some things will never return to what they used to be, what they could’ve been.

Could? If? I hate these words. They only remind you of the past and plot to destroy the future. Together they are the strongest words alive. And words? They are magic. Words that can be good or black. They have the power to create life, sometimes bring it back. They can make someone or break them. For me, they are my means of communication. I am not so great at talking, writing is all I am. My existence. My roommate tells me my writing is very abstract. True. But she doesn’t realize that that’s also how I am in real life. So it’s natural for my writing to be the way it is. The way I am.

I’ve learnt a ton of things here. Some from people that mattered, and some from people who could care less. But I’ve come to realize that it’s pointless. People who care, who don’t, who did. It’ll all change the next day, it always does. It’s a revolving cartwheel with spokes that keeps changing its destination, stopping at random points in the circle of life, sometimes leading to sound and serene white-fields, other times and more often to dark dungeons holding dragons breathing fire, turning fire to ash. No matter what you do for people, in the end all they care about is their lives and their families’, after all why should anyone think even for a dime about others? But some do. They put others before them, end up getting hurt and then regret it. Sometimes it’s not worth it.

My roommate is right. I keep swaying away. Coming back to the storyline, I can proudly say I passed. I made a couple of really good friends I know will be there for a long time, friends I know will take a stand for me when I need them. I’ve learnt to stay happy no matter what, even if the person who gave you that happiness is gone. To find joy in the small things of life, the little pleasure of moments like sharing an ice-cream with a loved one, having a deep conversation with a hostel-mate, or even just sharing the silence (tell me when you hear my silence, I’ll know what I mean to you then). People will come and people will go, it’s your take on that situation at that moment that changes everything. If people really want to stay, they will do everything in their hands to win you back, and if you’ve tried everything to get them back and they don’t, then that’s their loss, they were never meant to be.

The songs have ended now, the dance performances are done with. Everyone is heading back home and now I have to too. Contemplating about life is a game to be less gambled with, a road to be travelled less. Time to let go. Until next time, have courage and be kind, always.

Wingless Faith.

“And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.” – Khaled Hosseini (The Kite Runner)

There comes a time when you start seeing them. The flaws, the mistakes, the signs. You’ve been living in this shell seeing only the good there is to see, neglecting and pushing aside the negativity and the bad. People have been warning you about the pit that comes ahead, the cliff you’re pulling yourself towards. The edge of destruction that awaits your arrival once you realize what you’ve been witnessing is all a mirage. A figment of your imagination, a world you created to keep you safe from reality.

There was a time when all you could believe was what you wanted to, what you thought was the truth, when everyone around you kept shouting out to watch out. But you being the self-destructive fool that you are, decided not to heed to their advice. They were your friends. They knew better. You should have listened.

In everyone’s lives comes a time when you become so blinded by faith that you don’t realize you’re only pushing yourself further into the pit. You start trusting people knowing that you shouldn’t. In the back of your mind, there is this tiny voice calling your name, begging you to stop. Begging you to stop believing in the lies you’ve been told, to stop trusting the people you’ve made your idols. Even idols, mentors have flaws. You overlooked them, ignored the voices that kept telling you, “They aren’t true! They don’t care about you, stop before it’s too late!”, and suffered the consequences. You knew there would come a day when they’d overlook your goodness, judge your positivity for negativity and make you pay. Pay for what? The fact that you don’t fit in? Or that you aren’t them? Everyone is different. We all make mistakes, we aren’t all perfect. They claim to know who you are, accusing you to be someone you aren’t. You thought they knew you, but the truth is, they never did. They never will.

Isolation isn’t wrong. It is a way of introspection, to get to know yourself better. Just because they don’t see you around the people they want you with, doesn’t in any way make you isolated. It hurts when you thought they understood. All they did was judge.

Negativity only comes after you’re tired of searching for positivity from people. You’ve been looking for the goodness in everyone, only to be greeted by their dark side. When such a situation arrives, how can you be expected to stay optimistic? Pessimism is just a side-effect of failed optimism.

You used to believe that mentors are always right. Truth is, they are people, humans like us. They may be right in the beginning, but soon the power of authority weakens their sense of judgement making them commit mistakes that hurt their own people. They forget that we too are humans. We are made to err. That’s what makes us human.

Your only problem was that you always saw the good in people. You loved them too much. In fact why did you ever love them in the first place? What did they ever do to deserve your love? Maybe it was just you who loved to give love so freely not understanding they aren’t worth it. It’s actually not even about the fact whether they deserve it or not, it’s the fact that you don’t see before giving. You just give. It’s in your nature to not expect anything in return. The problem arises when it is not received in the right manner, you end up hurting your own self trying to make other peoples’ lives better. You don’t realize that people in this world are never appreciable of your efforts, they always try to find hidden motives, even when there aren’t any. The only way to cut off connection is by making you hate them. They feel that’s the only way. But there are many ways that do not involve anyone getting hurt. They just don’t care, hence the lack of searching for better alternatives. All they want is to get rid of you.

You saw the signs all along. You chose to ignore them. You paid the price. Now you know, never show them your truth even if they compel you to. When they had the chance to see, they chose otherwise. Now you have to stand your ground and realize they aren’t worth it. They never were.

Is HATE really a strong word? That’s where they were wrong. Hate is just a side-effect of loving someone so much to the point where they break and can’t handle it anymore. You can only hate someone if you care about them, if you love them. They don’t even deserve your hate anymore.

TRUST is a strong word. A word so easily defied by their laws of patriarchal rule that they soon lose the purpose of it. Once lost to the politics of hate and love, trust no longer prevails. Their lives revolve around themselves, they only pretend to care a cent about yours, why should you? You confided in them, shared your thoughts, your life, all because of one word, trust. And that’s what they use against you? Is it wrong to put your faith in people? Is it wrong to want someone to really not misunderstand you? If it is, then we should all be alone then. Never trust anyone. United we stand? Bullshit. What they believe in sounds more like “Divided We Stand”. If no one in this world trusted anyone, there wouldn’t be us. There wouldn’t be countries stringed together like the United Nations. The only problem arises when you trust the wrong people no matter how great they may seem, no matter how noble.

Love is overrated. So is friendship. And so is faith. People all our lives have been telling us to stop putting our faith in people who don’t deserve it, people who don’t understand the value of it, only to get it broken by a bunch of faithless, conscienceless people. There will come a time when they themselves will cease to believe, in magic, faith and love. That will be the day they’ll be set free.

Into The Abyss

“I’m a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet ambitious. I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am. I say I don’t care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way. I’m a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else has.”

This world is a paradox. It consists of people who are hypocrites. People who say certain things that don’t really have any true value behind them. Words that are merely that. Words. Letters encased together to form these combinations with meaningless phrases to objectify them. Strings of lines joined together to form art that can be understood by few sane yet crazy poets of magic. Magic that speaks life yet betrays the twisted cords in our beautiful heads that try and configure the hidden truth behind their deception.

You meet people and realize what life really is. All kinds of people make certain entries in registers of your life, leaving behind trails to reach out to them when they leave. They impact your life in a certain manner, with or without you knowing. Some people are meant to get imprinted in your souls, and yet there are a few who have less significance and mere presence like a short stay at a hotel. Those few who stay out there in the ocean trying to save you, are the ones that do exist in your mind and heart, they are the ones that mean the universe. No matter what happens, never ever leave them stranded in the middle of the desert. Chances are, you might never see them again.

Certain incidents and experiences teach you what stress handling and control is. They make you aware of the fact that you’re an ant in this big black space called the universe. You’re known by your deeds and your actions, and not by yours words, that most people believe are true. Do before you speak. Actions show those inner emotions of a human that are invisible when we cover them up with lies only made up to show the outside what isn’t on the inside. A mask of cowardice that is thrown apart from the dark when truth be told.

Sometimes life hands you such lessons that teach you things you may normally never learn. People change for the better and many times, not. They fall in love, make things and people precious to them, only to lose them sooner or later to the chaos of life. People come and go. Some become your life, while others only parts. They leave marks on your soul, transforming it into something worth saving. Something worth cherishing. You want to be good, to be the best. Yet, certain instances alter the sequence of the downfall. The downfall towards the fire that will make you bleed stars shining more brightly than the eerie-dark sky at night. Maybe it wakes you up. Makes you love the world like you should. Makes the sparks fly for all the perfect things that you doubt. Maybe life isn’t perfect. Yet its imperfect future is what makes it worth living. Pasts taste bitter. You’ve been cold, merciless. Yet you promise to be good. For all of the rays that you shut out and for all of the pain that you’ve caused for tears. For all of the sparks that you burnt out and for all of the times that you never could. For all of the innocent things that you doubt and all the things that you could have done. For all those years.

You don’t know why some people aren’t there. You don’t know what is right and what is wrong. What is love? You don’t want to be hurt anymore. You don’t know what you can do, you can’t go on. You need forever to understand what it is, what it could be and what it will be. You don’t know what life has in store for you, you don’t know what will happen anymore. It’s unpredictable. You’re only lying through your teeth about the life you survive.

It’s a lie. All of it. This world, the people, the games. All made for the amusement of human beings called people in a feeble attempt to pass their life without any real purpose. It’s all a haze just waiting to break into an already broken reality that we all are just pieces in a chess game where no one really wins. One day it’ll all come back to you in a way not fathomed by normal homo-sapiens, a much bitter truth of hate and love, lust and desire. Just a pool of millions of molecules swimming to be set free at the trigger of a flame. On the verge of destructing the very existence of humanity that once prevailed in a time long forgotten. But somehow, we survived.

We survived the haze. The game. The world. In the end, things turned out fine. People started realizing that one can’t go on without the other. We are all linked. It’s a chain. A chain that must stay connected for the simple fact that we need each other. People are the reason people are alive. We live for each other. We live by each other. We live to live.