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“Hiding” – Nayana Nair

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The noise of the crumpled tissues walked upon
fills me up again.
Without the colors of reasons or pain
that once made it unbearable,
I envy that me who could be so passionately
sad for the someone else
or even for myself.
Now the the rivers of concern run beneath the surface of my heart
almost lost, in hiding.
(Or am I the one in hiding.)

And now I can finally be almost happy in life.

“Count the Roads” – Nayana Nair

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I didn’t see her pack her bag
but I knew it was definitely hers,
from the way she could drag it with such an ease.
The same ease with which
she dragged most things in her life.
Her face twisted and moved
till it found that smile
that said, “Ignore me, I’m happy”.
As she hailed her taxi,
I tried to count the days it would take
for me to give up too.
I counted the roads that must pass
before we do not have to think
about the depleting years in our hand
and lonely dreams in our diminishing vision.

Day 2 – Quote Challenge

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“I guess my life hasn’t always been happy, or easy, or exactly what I want. At a certain point, I just have to try not to think too much about certain things, or else they’ll break my heart.”
― Jonathan Franzen

This is a thought I can relate with but not know why. I am not entirely sure whether the interests that I have actually catch my attention, or I am trying to pile up more things to distract me from looking at things that might upset me. It is not that I try to avoid problems. I do face the problems in my life (most of them), take them up as challenge, try to find solution. But I do all this with an attitude of an onlooker. I do not engage myself emotionally in that, even if (especially when) it is about my own life. But one thing I know about myself is that I take everything personally, I am anxious about all small things, so sometimes even I am amazed at how coolly and with a disturbing nonchalance I handle the bigger issues of my life. I might be going through a really hard time, and would be enjoying everything as I normally do, I keep myself so busy with things (sometimes with ridiculously irrelevant things ) that I do not have to think about how I feel about all this. I do not want to see how I am affected by it, for I know every small thing affects me in ways no one would understand. But knowing that and facing that are two different things. I do not want to ask myself questions that I do not have answers to, whose answers even if I know will be more difficult for me to handle. I do confront my feelings and act them out, only when I am pushed to. That’s when I loose my cool. When I do loose my cool, when I get into why rather than what, I turn into this hysterical person that I don’t want to be.

And here is why this confuses me more, one of the reason that I write is so that I can see all these feelings without having to claim them as mine. I can write about feelings of a character and somewhere in his pain flows my pain, so much that they become inseparable. It is not about me, but it is still about me.

But I do not try to change myself, I believe the way I behave and deal with things are the best possible way to deal with this life of mine. Something that works for me, even if at times it is ridiculous.

And this is exactly what I think about myself:

“He couldn’t figure out if she was immensely well adjusted or seriously messed up.”
― Jonathan Franzen

“Glass I am made of ” – Nayana Nair

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There were days in my life
when I knew the sun could never shine brighter
and I can never be more happy.
I thought these with the innocent belief
of constancy of happiness,
rather than the realization
that put an end to hopes.
Somehow with time the glass I am made of
has bend,
has flowed silently and collected
at safe crowded corners.
And now every light that enters me
is manipulated beyond recognition
into the reflection of my own poison heart.

“Out of Frame” – Nayana Nair

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My pictures are not about me
they are just replacable frames
filled with the skin I have shed
filled with people who have left
and with my smile that has changed
beyond recognition.
So I can’t help but look at them
and picture the happy life
this person must have had
when I know it is otherwise.
I have lost track of my memories
I have lost track of the reasons
for why I lived my life like that.
I have a fading list of afflictions
and its pain that I have learned
to live with or ignore.
As I age, I find
I can almost forget,
I can leave behind
whoever I was out of frame.

“Throw Myself”- Nayana Nair

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There was no breath left to let out

as I throw myself down the stairs.

And every step that I tumble down.

I feel breaking bones.

Muscles and knuckles

losing the another bubble of a happy memory

that I once thought would be enough to keep me alive.

My broken thoughts rush into my blood

into my empty lungs,

almost convinced that this the last

they will see of me.

And I never tire out.

I never feel sore enough or pained enough

to stop myself from doing this to myself.

But while I took you for another wall

that existed to break me,

another voice to help me fill up

pages on essays of self-hatred

and regrets that do not forget me.

You became the arms that hold me, lift me

And carry my burden of life along with me.

And for first time

I want to live better.

And I want you with me in that better life.

“There was…” – Nayana Nair

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There was a wrong story
that we were born into.
There was world
of violence outside.
But in the room
made of unreasonable
and unreachable dreams-
there was music,
there was you,
there was me.
The impossibilty
of being happy
in the life that ate us from within
and our ridiculous effort
to be everything that this life denies us.

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