I Gaze At The Evening Sky

I came home late and found Mike sitting on the couch very disturbed

Me : what happened Mike, you seem upset, everything fine at work..?

Mike : everything is fine at work, I just have to attend a wedding reception tonight, I just got a call.

Me : what's wrong in that? you tired?

Mike : no, Mary is getting married, remember.... my ex.?

Me : It's fine baby, since she is fine why do you worry..? Go, wish her and come back.

Mike : *sighs* ok, I'll go, can you come with me, please..?

*my phone rings*

Me : hello, yes, oh, how are you.?

what.?

Congratulations..... when..?

Today! I'll try

You won't believe this, Mark got married today and he just invited me for his reception, like now...!

Mike: what..? You're ex, Mark..? What a fucking coincidence..?

Me : I guess we both have to go and congratulate the couple, I wish I could have with you...

Mike : It's fine, get dressed.

We got dressed up and we both headed out, he took a cab and I took the car, I walk in to the reception hall and turn around to find Mike

Both of us were upset as shit. It was over, we could have not gone, but we had to, we had to tell them we moved on...

Mike : what the fuck, wait... really.

Yes our ex were getting married to each other, which means their ex got married to each other, which was fucking crazy. We dint invite them for our wedding, so they have no idea...

We walked up, posed for a pic, him next to her and me next to Mark. It was the worst situation I was in...

We walk out hand in hand...

Mary & Mark : that was my ex, deal done of inviting them to our wedding...

Now, more than us they were fucked up exactly on their wedding day...

I don't express love in the right way

I don't say the right thing at the right time

But I have never been fake

Nor has my love been a hoax.

.

Just because I'm not like the rest of the world in being all sweet and cheesy

Doesn't mean I care less

.

I AM THIS WAY

I'm Adamant, Loud, Curious, Sentimental, but that doesn't mean my soul is bumbling.

.

These are traits in my character that are not so good maybe, but look there are other "good" ones too.

.

If my adamance is bothering you

Let it be.

.

If me having an opinion is smothering you

Then you are suffocating by your own thoughts.

.

I may not be the apple of your eye

Or the centre of you're world.

Guess what

I don't want to be.

But how can my mere presence bother you

Just because we hold a past

.

I'm not agitated just with you,

But by a lot of people around me.

How can you judge me so easily even after knowing me.

You're so wrong with your calculations coz your decisions aren't always the right.

.

If you still say I have a problem, then be it

Coz my problem isn't that big a deal

All I do is care too much and love too much all the wrong people at the wrong time to whom I have never been significant. Ever.

.

I'm glad your smile is above my scar.

I'm really glad.

If I could...

I always wonder, if I could do a lot of things, life would have been a bit more simpler.

if I could read other people's mind it would have been simpler to avoid complications, to not hurt people. I would not have broken the trust of my beloved and regret those lies.

if I could go back in time, I would have undone a lot of things that hurt her and made her eyes go wet. I would have not fallen in love with all those wrong guys and now be in a state of hating love.

if I could get a second chance, I would apologize to all those whom I hurt.

if I could.... if I just could... I would do a hundred things that made life simpler, that made life easier.

Hot summer days are the worst time to go on a drive, but I still decided to go on one. I thought maybe the AC in my car and the sunny sky would be a better change in comparison to my cramped room with humidity hitting the roof.

It was one of those days where I was eagerly waiting for the summer rains to drench the soil and let out a cool breeze.

As I keep driving, without a destination, nor a map to guide me through, taking turns as my brain tells me to and my heart wants me to.

I stop at an empty road, waiting for the 30 seconds on the signal to pass so I could head to the place I didn't know of.

That's when it came, the thunder, the lightening, the wind the breeze the dark afternoon and the darker clouds.

The radio tells me it's some cyclone, my heart tells me it's the first of summer rains.

I pause, I don't move an inch. The clouds starts pouring, the heavy water droplets on my car roof hits my ears, I scroll the window pane, and let the rain drops fall in.

My face now wet, my head filled with a hundred thoughts, I make a U-turn and head home.

I play loud music to shun the voices in my head. I stop at a tea shop, ask for a strong filter coffee and lit a cigarette, the radio yet again tells me of casualities due to the cyclone and my head tells me it's just the summer rains.

Image from @a-small-startup

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 went to the ocean today

I felt blue and thought it would help

But the ocean seemed strange,

There was this feeling of being full, choked up with emotions

I couldn’t see the horizon,

It felt as if the ocean was one with the sky

I know there will be a scientific reason behind this

But my mind couldn’t think of it

All I saw was the ocean being much sad than I

It was as if it had been missing something…

 .

The beach was emptier than usual,

There were a few surfers

Some who had mastered the art

While some training under them

There were little boys who were taken aback by the waves

And there were men who stood meddling through the waves

 .

I was sitting there on a rock, with a book in hand…

I wanted a distraction from the chaos in my head

I was blue from dawn

 .

There was this old lady, who walked up to me,

She said I was in her spot

I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Sheldon from the big bang theory

I moved and made way for her to sit…

 .

She was staring at the waves with ease in her face,

Those wrinkles felt, they had seen much calmer oceans

I couldn’t agree more

 .

And out of all these people, walking, sitting, and playing

Far away were two dogs, playing in the ocean,

Running around, enjoying the pleasant evening

 .

It seemed as if they had just been left out after many days

When man has himself been locked down

 .

They ran towards me

The little one jumped up and started licking my hand

 .

This one time, I wasn’t angry that someone was disturbing me reading

I patted him, and he was so happy

I couldn’t resist a smile

 .

That was it, as soon as I smiled I saw him run away

Back to playing with his big friends

Who was not just playing with him, but was also guarding him

 .

That little boy made me smile, and looked into my eye with so much love

I returned home, with a broader smile, a lighter heart and a better mood

I miss the feeling of being home.. I miss mommy and the comfort of being around her. I miss the two little brothers I have around whom I feel so responsible. I miss the food, the late night long talks about everyone I know and don't know in the distant family, I miss being so comfortable in a place though I can't be myself.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having a place called home.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss waking up to the aroma of coffee that's so delicious coz it's never the same elsewhere. I miss the chaos over what's for lunch and deciding on something silly yet so delicious.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to greet all the guests who come home, asking the same things over and over again, trying to remember how I know them, only to realize I have never met them.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss feeling needed, important and worthy somewhere at some point of time, my granny so proud of what I'm doing that she keeps boasting about it to someone I don't remember meeting, over the phone.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to wake up early coz it's the last day home as my train leaves that night to a city I call mine, having to go back mommy wants me to spend some time with her.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss the clutter clatter in the kitchen, packing food for me for the night journey, and pickles and snacks to last the next six months. The confusion of what to take and what not to take, to decide between food and cloths in my luggage. I miss the questions my brothers ask as to why I need to leave early as I just came a week before, the constant nagging of when it'll all get over and I'll always be home. I miss the smell of home, the feeling of sitting in that couch and the aroma of that morning coffee.

I miss the feeling of home

I miss having a place called home

I miss the feeling of home.

The window

If only you could open doors that would change things,

Sometimes like how you think of running far away to those places you never know of

Those meadows and sunsets you have written about, you've read about, you've thought about.

I don't know about you, but I have.

I have wanted to open that window to the perfect home I've imagined.

To that home, where amma and appa had figured out things

Where my older brother wasn't threatened by my birth

Where I wasn't threatened by that hand that made me uncomfortable.

Where my screams would be heard through the window.

Where when I cried, I had a hand to hold on to.

Where I did not run away from, I did not ignore calls, where my memories of childhood were not fights and hatred.

That window which did not show me trying to kill myself

I dream of building that home, where I am safe, I am heard and I am wanted. But now when I do, I feel like I'm caged inside the cocoon that I have build shooing away people. While then it was being in a house that wasn't my home and now a home that feels like a house.

Sometimes, someday I will open that window where I will have a painting hung on the wall of a meadow, a framed picture of people on my bedside table, and my bookshelves across the bed. Someday it will contain a hand that will embrace me and a shoulder to lean on to.

Image from: Razia @a-small-startup

“the overgrown quills on my legs didn’t stop him.

my period blood and the tampon inside of me didn’t either.

this was never about attraction. it was about dominance.

he was power hungry with an insatiable appetite. i could taste command on his fingers when he shoved them down my throat and made me vomit before he left my house.

no, i wasn’t desirable. 

so, let’s make one thing clear - he desired to control me.”

- smspoetry (sexual assault)

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

Why aren't we given time if it's difficult?

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

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Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

And Why is that you can write only when you are in pain?

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Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

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Why is your time not at their time stamp?

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Why can't people know we're all at a different pace

In our journey towards ease.

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Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

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Why do you want everyone to smile even beyond that pain.

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Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

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Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

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Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

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Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

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You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

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You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

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It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

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Let's put up a brave face is it?