Why Is One Particular Thing Interconnected To So Many Particular Things That To Have One Particular Thing

And after all this expansion they asked me if I'd like to stand for their president election, apparently the fishes are asking for freedom and cleanliness so they believe if I become their president the fish would never get cleanliness. But on the other hand, the fish is making our cat to stand for them, apparently over the period of time they became friends and since I don't clean his bowl he's very angry.

You’ve been putting off cleaning your late fishes aquarium. Today the algae did its first space flight test.

Bon Appétit

I haven't tumbled here in a while. I haven't written a story in a while. Not only that, but I look at old poems and think of storing them somewhere. I look at the ways in which I have narrated stories and I save them to watch later. I look at the scribblings at the back of my notebook, but before I could finish reading them, the to-do list from the front pages start haunting me. Furthermore, I open my laptop to look for some inspiration to write, you see I haven't written in a while. But then I lose the confidence to write. The “Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka ju nu” notes my roommate sings for the kids of her classical dance class rings in my head as I try to find a subject to write about. The tabs open in my laptop reminds me of the work I have to finish before the dawn of tomorrow, because Human Resources has asked me to finish tasks and have a new reporting format. But then I want to write. I want to write the same way Julia cooks in the film Julie and Julia; or is it Julia and Julie. It's my favourite film, and yet I keep forgetting the name.

I try to play a film in the background, some music that plays through my phone, Excel sheets and presentation decks, phone calls and emails. I'm multitasking, I tell myself. I've been multitasking for so many years, that somewhere I forgot how to perform just one task at a time.

I'm making tea and there's an episode of some random show playing in the background. I'm doing the laundry and there is music playing from my room. I'm bathing and in-between shampoo getting into my eyes and trying to balance on one foot I hear Sheldon Cooper explaining the theory of asymmetry.

I'm also a mental health professional, while I keep telling my clients to not google their symptoms, I struggle to restrain myself from self diagnosing.

The phone chimes and I know it's my best friend from miles away telling me her day went equally bad and at the end of the day we'll video call each other just to say “Life sucks (Exclamation point)”

I know I'm deviating from what I started writing about, I have no idea what I'm writing about. I think of sending the link to my partner once I finish posting this, but then there is a voice in the corner of my head that says I'll not post this, that I'll do Ctrl+A and click delete.

I know I shouldn't. It's after ages I decide to write, why shouldn't the world see it. At this point, you would be wondering why did I break into a new paragraph, do I have something to say? Am I changing the subject? Maybe yes. Because as I write this, I think of the first post I made somewhere in October 2017, and I can see the spelling and grammatical errors on that post. Not saying there aren't any now. By this time, all the above paragraphs have 5+ errors. The multiple grammar tools on my windows have come up, shooting red lines on the error. I ignore it for now. I can proofread much later.

So, what am I writing? I'm writing about not writing. I'm writing about having hated the urge to get my writing validated from strangers online, who have now become acquaintances. I'm writing about how my Instagram page is now non-existent and my Tumblr page had long died. But I will still shout to the world and tell them that I have gone back to writing, that I will write on a random day after a random period of time.

Adiós reader!

Will used to love me when I got nothing but my aching soul.

Seeing the pain seeing the pleasure.

And I could fall or I could fly. Hanging on the words you say.

With you my dear I'm safe

Tell me why I can be there where you are

Its a paradise and it is a war zone

(Songs : "The moon song" "Pillow talk" "Show me the meaning" "Dive")

Family is not just mom and dad

It's the one who love you

And I've seen mine in you

I know I'm an idiot

I ruin things that are great in life

And later mourn about it

I realise late that I've damaged

What we had

And this time I guess it's beyond repair

For the first time I wish

I had an undo button for life

Coz' I have never mourned over anything

Like this before

I have had fights with you before

But believed it will all be fine

But I guess I lost you this time

Once and for all...

To find that they were better off

Behind those locked doors.

Being lovers or strangers, either way being them

And not exposed and vulnerable

223. Incognito

Behind closed doors, they were lovers.

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”

...

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

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. 

Please don’t fall in love with me. Just don’t. I am merely giving you a word of advice or rather a word of caution for I’m not worth your time. I am a mess, and a complicated one at that. You can’t handle someone like me for I got too many issues even with myself. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anyone because I always knew I will never be good enough for anybody. Before you blabber on how you accept me or you won’t get tired of me, know the real me. Who is the real me by the way? I don’t even know it myself. I tend to push people away before they get too close for they will also get tired and leave me like everyone else. Then I will blame myself. See? I even get tired of myself too. I always feel down and get sad without a particular reason. I don’t want to be a burden to anybody especially to you. Please don’t fall in love with me. I am just saving you from the hassle.

c.i.j. // no trespassing (via elementalalchemist)

my exact same feelings right now. exact same way i wanna explain <3

I'm constantly struck between yesterday and tomorrow losing today. I'm struck between the old me and the future me not knowing what I am now. I'm struck in this vicious circle getting lost everyday and try to find a way out through small things everyday....

A long ride, Sufi songs and a lot of people brought this thought out on a moonlight night....