Battles of my small world

I am fighting the world… to stay calm and to not let anyone into making me believe this is life. I wish you understood where I stand. But I also wish you never hear my battle stories. Maybe that is the best I could do to you and to 'us'.

Diary: Page 5

I have mixed thoughts today. Was it right? Was it wrong? I try to look deeper into myself. But no hints yet.

My mind can jump from one thought to another. Like this.

To that.

To another.

Are you going to read this? Today? Tomorrow? Someday?

If you do, please know, I am sorry.

But I am not sorry.

No actually I am.

You were amazing.

No you were NOT.

You had a good soul. I never saw I guess.

I let you go. I let myself go.

I am sorry.

No I am not sorry.

I am just... here and there.

Someday I hope you know.

Someday I hope you never know.

So much of me

What stroke you to fall for a woman like me, I often wonder. I don’t write poems of love, long emails about how much you mean to me and how I crave your lips on my neck.

The idea of me was nice perhaps. The idea of me around always was even better. But what you forgot to contemplate of the idea of me with you always, was that poems don’t fall from the sky into your writing book. Passion neither into your blood.

When I miss you, I hug you. When I miss you, I check on you. When I miss you, I come home early. Every day was with you and every night was with you. I am always with you and the love poems are never born neither the emails with passion because there is not possibility of missing each other.

Perhaps I should not have given so much of myself to you. I should not have done so much. Spoke so much. Hugged so much. Kissed so much. So much of anything was not good for ‘us’.

Let it be

I like how you say I am not a liberated soul. I like how you observe this about me.

I often let my soul free. It wanders; sometimes it comes back and sometimes it goes missing and I work mechanically for days at my office desk.

I would say my soul is lost; not liberated. Do you know why? Because lost is the easy way to conclude. Simple and self-explanatory. Like what do you ask a person who is lost – where are you?

My soul is lost and don’t ask me where or when. Just that I am not ashamed to acknowledge this state of me and that is probably why I still keep my blog as ‘a liberated soul’.

Stairway

There is no stairway to this man’s heart. His heart has no windows or doors.

I could rip open his heart and make my way, but that will make me a murderer. I don’t want to be a murderer.

And what if his heart is empty. What if I tear out more and see there is nothing for me in his heart?

I don’t want him to be my murderer. 

Art life

'So how is your art life?'

'Don't have one.'

If by art you meant writing, I don't write anymore.

Diary: Page 4

I am tired today. I feel like my little world has stopped revolving. 
I am tired today. Like tired in a way, I don't wish to part the curtains of my bedroom. 
Like I wish not to see the Sun. Or this morning or the stars tonight. 

Why do you do this to me? Why do you act like you don't know?

My heart is in my hands. And where is your heart? I don't even know. Locked away perhaps? Or maybe with someone whom I don't even know.
That's how extremes we are, you see.

I am tired of how you have left me to imagine what could possibly be your thoughts. 
I am tired of everything in short. Even tired of writing this. 

I first met him at a club.

It was the night of Holi and a weekend. Me and a ‘we-look- happy’ but trust us ‘we-are-not-so-happy’ couple decide to hit a Desi club. The couple is a friend and a not-so-familiar husband of her.

The club was filled with unknown faces and cigarette smoke. Crazy, crowded and loud. Typical!

5 rounds of tequila and surprisingly I didn’t feel drunk. I was getting bored and decided to find a partner to dance.My eyes wandered from lonelyguy1 to lonelyguy2 and more and a few more.

Nil.  

But then the DJ played a romantic song with a handful of his usual EDM beats and I danced like a heroine of Bollywood movie. I then wanted a hero. A heroine is never complete without her hero who lets her dance around him and occasionally around a huge tree. I had to find one. And that’s when I first met him. I glanced upon this really attractive man, 6’2 or even more, built with seductive eyes and smile to die for.

Everything so perfect. I walked closer to him, but I was stopped by force totally unexpected. Twists are a big thing in Bollywood you see. Out of nowhere the not-so-familiar husband of my friend was on fire. Jealous and burning he just won’t let me close to Mr. Seductive Eyes.

In reality, my friend’s drunk husband was pain anywhere weird you can think of. The situation was quiet embarrassing. All the more for my friend.

Anyways back to story. The distance between us was only a few steps. I rolled my eyes out of disappointment. But all he did was smile and watch me dance. I frowned, he smiled more to cheer me up.

The rest of the music till 3 am was only for him. All my attention, all my moves and all my kisses went flying to him.

When the music stopped, I walked up to him. We looked at each other with a smile on our lips. And if eyes could speak, I know what he asked me.

‘What’s your story?’

Him.

"Did you notice something? I haven't spoken about him all day."

"Well, you just did."

I-don't-know-how-to-have-his-love.

I have thought a lot. As creative as I could be. How can I have his love?

Perhaps a painful tattoo of his name on my arm?

Or a house with scented candles in beautiful corners?

Or maybe secretly polishing his shoes and leaving a pair of matching socks? "Surprise!'

Or just let him peacefully chat with his friend about I-don't-know-what.

I really don't know. What they chat or how to have his love.

Photo credit: Unknown (Google Images)

Tamed by love

I am wild. I bite.

I roar. I prey.

I rip. Hearts.

I roam. Free.

I set. Boundaries.

I own. This world!

You are. In my territory.

I warn you. With one look.

You tamed me. With one look.

Purr..

 
Photo credits: EW

What if..

I would still want to wake up next to you

Photo: Unknown (Google Images)

Soul diggers

We a group among everyone is the most emotional. Melodramatic and everything else you others don't generally like to be.

Our world is powerful and intense and revolves around emotions and the energy it brings into existence. You know, the type that feels everything ten times more than how it actually should be.

Some call us dreamers, some crazy. Well, mostly crazy.
Some are curious about us, some scared. Well, mostly scared.

We watch the rest of them in amusement. How they you put up a face and stiffen their spines, head high like a super hero of their small own world. Ha!

We observe their aura and reflect the real them to them, but ofcourse real is scary. And then we see the fear in their eyes. Vulnerable like their souls are in our hands.

With some we play it cool, but with some we like to really play. We take one step closer to them, they take two steps back. We take one step back, they stay right where they were.

Interesting indeed. How silly is some to think that they are mighty and perfect and that you are made of uniqueness  when all you are is an energy called soul - beautiful, mild, vulnerable, emotional yet scared of being found.

Photo: SGloe

Everything you, I love.

I have waited long. Long enough to miss many trains and many full moons. Yet I never got a glimpse of your soul.

I am scared. I am in love. With you and everything you.

Ofcourse I feel like I know you like a mirror, but that's only a feeling. The truth is you are a stranger. Your soul, I don't know.

Stranger sometimes because you have a soul that I haven't felt. You let me into your heart, your thoughts and you love abundantly but you are a stranger with a soul.

I will wait. Miss many more trains. Even more full moons.

I will wait till you come to me baring your soul. Baring everything you.

Everything you, I love and then forever your soul too.

Photo: Unknown (Google Images)

Letters from Mindland

I have some letters with me. Not particularly hand written.

Short and long letters..
Some addressed some not
Some beautiful some not
Some forgotten some not

Letters that carry yesterdays...written by my mind but never posted, stacked up and labelled with memories..

All those times when you asked me 'Where are you so lost?'

The answer is 'I have got a mail.'

Not all minds stack up, some like to be read.

And I have got a mail..


Photo: Unknown (Google Images)

Coffee and him

Everytime we meet and sit down to talk, a coffee shop, two coffees, your eyes, your scent, your big talks, business deals, how you nailed it, your lips, your fingers, your specs, sugar sachets on the table and a dreamy me.. lost somewhere between the time I met you and the last sip of coffee.


Photo: Unknown (Google Images)

When stories are short

The shorter the stories are the easier it is for me.
To remember
To recite
To pretend
that you are listening..
To look away for a while
and still pretend
that you are listening..

Which Universe?

It's funny how you can recognize the level of maturity that has come into my voice.

I am closer to the universe now. Which universe you ask? Well, the one that never existed before! 

Don't remind me again...

Nothing changes in six years.

Six years is a long period isn't it?

Why did I think maybe you might have learned how to open up a bit!? I am usually silly like that. You know!

But nothing has changed. You made me feel just the same way I always felt when I am with you.

I poured out you to like it was raining after years. Blah blah blah and blah... Don't you smirk!

And you? You just remained the same idiot I left six years back. You had to remind me that didn't you?

Winter

Yes, it is cold.
It is our favorite season.
But I have a cold heart.
I will say that
I don't miss you.