I Dont Want To...

It physically hurts me 

to see him, her and them

all laughing together.

To have been a part of it once

and now being a mere spectator.

To have had promises made

and to have them easily broken.

It physically hurts me,

to put myself to sleep every night

crying, weeping and consoling myself.

It haunts me that this separation

day in and day out

will pursue, till everything rather everyone vanish

It’s haunting to not understand the cause,

It physically hurts me

to see people I love hate me so much.

It physically hurts me to see that though a lot of people like me

no one understands what I feel

Being around so many people

no one notices that I weep right under their nose.

It haunts me that ‘

the validation rather the acknowledgement of my presence i seek from people will never be understood,

the need for someone around to lend me a ear and understand me will never be understood

It physically and emotionally hurts me.

it’s haunting to live in a place you hate, around people you hate, doing things you hate.

It’s haunting to tell all of this out loud. It’s hurting me inside out. 

Faith.

Why am I so attached to strangers and detached from people who are mine? A question that has been haunting me for a while now. I have opened up so much to a completely stranger giving him the key to all my secrets making myself vulnerable.

Yes, my social network friend. We became friends a little while ago and now I have become quite close to him. Inseprable.

But having told him all my secrets I feel vulnerable. I feel weak. I do not know how to overcome this fear.

Having been stabbed in the back by people I have trusted, now I feel telling unknown people is much more safer than telling the known one.

I hope you wont stab me like all the others did. You wont leave my hand when I hold on to with all the trust I have. The faith; if shattered again then I would never be able to gain it back nor will I trust anyone ever again be it known or unknown.

...

I have that one person in life to whom I can be me and still be confident that he wont judge.

Well thats what I believe everytime I meet that person.

That one person changes with time.

Sometimes it's you

And yet other times its him or her or her

Everytime I end up talking hours together

Not leaving the smallest detail of what happened in the day

I fear that he would get bored

That he would not feel anymore.

Today I could sence that he was getting tired of me being excited of the same thing again and again

Maybe I should stop because

Maybe I get too excited about petty things

But I thought he would understand that it means the world to me.

I never thought I would say this for him because till yesterday I had something else to tell.

Yet one more time people have proven that they cant be what they promise to be

And all those promises starts to flow with the rain leaving me all back to square 1.

Thinking what went wrong this time

What I wouldn’t do for you

You were my kid once. You were the one I cared about the most once. You were my soul and my life. I don’t know when that changed and how it changed. I remember giving you all that was mine. Being partial towards everything you did. Knowing all your sins and still supporting you. I was your backbone and I was your system. I dint care about me, my things, or my life, for that matter. I wanted you to be in peace and have fun in life. From 15 I turned 35 for you and from 35 I turned you 15. I would have done anything for you, bring starts on earth, travel to Mars to give you a little alone time. I would have done anything you asked for, you demanded for. I dint care about how you asked. I would have and actually speaking I did.

But you started betraying me, using me, and above all took me for granted. You assumed that I was just for you and had nothing of my own. You dint even acknowledge my presence let alone my life. I would hear hours together about what you have to say, but when I open my mouth you disappear. I give you everything I have but you can’t even give me a small portion of your time. I would have given you my soul and my life, actually speaking I did.

If you had been loyal to me, I would have given you my life. I wouldn’t do any of this for you now. In fact I wouldn’t do anything for you now. And now by you I mean everybody. I wouldn’t do anything for anybody because I’m tired, sick and done doing it for you and everybody else. What I wouldn’t do for you? You ask me, well I wouldn’t do anything for you my dear, not just for you but for anybody, is all I say, to you and to everybody.

For me

What would you do if you wake up tommorow morning and realize that you are not that person anymore. That you have changed overnight. How would you react when you realize that you dont remember anything at all what happened. What would you do if you suddenly found yourself in a time span much much ahead of where you last were.

I dont know either. But somehow, somewhere I feel that I am lost. Lost in my own life. My own vicious cycle of finding myself. Being good to myself. Being the person whom I am expected to be. Whom I expect to be.

I am tired of deciding things in life after analyzing whether I am becoming what they always doubted that I would become. I am tired of the realization that I have lost track of myself.

I want to live for me. Decide for me. And do or dont do things because I want to or dont want to. I dont want to stop doing something just because maybe that is what I am becoming. I am tired of justifying everything I do. I am tired of fulfilling the expectations of others. I am tired of not becoming and sick of living for others.

I want to be me and live for me decide for me and understand me justify me feel happy for me guilty towards me and me me and me no one else.

And when the one person is gone you never expected to lose you’re left wondering why. Trying to figure out what pushed them away, wondering what you have done wrong over and over again. Everything you’ve ever said, everything you’ve ever done is repeating all over in your head trying to make sense of it, but you can’t no matter how hard you try and it hurts so badly. You still want to tell them everything that happens in your life and the realization that they’re no part of it anymore feels like being stabbed in the chest repeatedly. And trying to accept this is hard because you can’t get them out of your mind, missing them so badly and it hurts, it hurts so terribly.

I’m sorry. (via painfully-isolated)

Everything that is happening right now

I'm glad I got to read the script first before the world could..

https://youtu.be/dQsjAbZDx-4

I love this song. So one day I was thinking of the lyrics and saw potential for a short story. Here it goes:

On he went. The snow was hard to distinguish from his hair. The steps were exhausting, each one. But still, it was a special day. He was almost there. Crosses and more crosses. It was hard to find a specific one, since they all looked the same. But it wasn’t his first time. He knew the way.

There it was. The flowers of last year had disappeared. The dog tag was still there. Fernando. What a war freak. He asked for all of it. To be buried with soldiers. To have nothing but a wooden cross. For the tag to hang on it. But not for the visits. That was on him. But how could he not? The whole war, and the fact the he came out alive, he owned it to him. To his bravery. To the hero he was.

“Hello Fernando? Enjoying not going gray, you lucky bastard? Here, I brought you your favorite.”

As he said that, he put down a red label bottle. How many memories. How many times they had fought for the last shot of one of those. Youth well spent.

But there was more. There was the war. And no one, in the whole world, was as proud to have defended freedom as Fernando. He had convinced everyone he could to join. He had fought until his last breath. Still, at the end, he survived. His smile was probably the largest on the night they celebrated the victory. They had to go on with their ordinary lives, but Fernando was forever a soldier. He died speaking about the honor of being a soldier.

Yet, not one person would remember him as a Nazi killer, but as the most inspiring, amusing and friendly figure to ever live. Except for that one soldier friend, visiting his soldier grave, to pay him a friend honor.

“Do you remember that night Fernando? The fireworks, the drinks, the women? How did we enjoy being young, being heroes, even though we would never touch a rifle again. Guess that’s what it’s all about, Fernando. Having the one story to be told on the grave.”

He laughed, far too much for the state of his lungs, until he coughed. Blood.

“Oh, my Fernando. Looks like I’ll be joining you quite soon”

What makes you think

You are different from the millions of others living in this planet.?

What makes you feel

That just by not doing what others are doing

You'll be different.?

Whatever it is, you're wrong

You are no different.

The same flesh

The same organs

The same creature

Humans.

Maybe your face is different

Your finger prints are different

The color of your eyes

The length of your hair

Is different.

But that's it

You are the same.

The same flesh

The same bone

The same creature

Humans.

Just because you do or don't do something

Doesn't make you different.

The fact that you feel different

During different situations

Doesn't make you different.

It's the same

The same flesh

The same skin

The same creature

Humans.

I'm angry

I'm depressed

I'm furious

I'm sad

I'm all of this

But, they are just common human emotions.

The same flesh

The same emotions

The same creature

Humans.

And that's the melancholy of being human

It's all the same.

I look through the window, to find many other buildings.

While I'm lighting my candle, sipping my chai

I see a hundred other things that's going on

A man maybe in his 30s sits infront of a laptop and works all day, he sometimes cribs and get up, but the call holds him back and he gets back to work

I see this young couple from another window, who have fairy lights and white curtains.

Every night they are in each other's arms having a movie marathon

I look away and my eye lands on the woman who has 2 children running around her all the time, while the toddler paints the house with his crayon the other child plugs in the headphone and sits for class. I see childhood smashed there in front of screens and I let out a sigh.

I wonder if someone looks through my window and sees me sometimes dancing to the tunes, and other times cooking to the same tunes.

While sometimes I try to get some work done, other days I wake up in the afternoon.

I wonder sometimes if someone looks through my window and says, that girl has always music to muse to.

I wonder if someone knows that I plug in to my earphones all the time because I can't be left alone with my thoughts.

I wonder if someone sees me through my window and wonders how days in my life are.

When someone asks me how my days go, I have no answers, because there is no more a normal day, a routine or a purpose. There is nothing I look forward to, or something I do.

A normal day in my life isn't normal anymore.

Image from: @a-small-startup