Her floor had always been the color of the season I remember this, only when I step into the mess of her life. The spring issues lay scattered like the flowers The pink, red, yellows, and greens, women who only know youth, women who only grow younger the kind of woman she wanted to be (what a small impossible dream) and she almost is. And now that she can never change would she be happy? When/if she comes across her own lifeless eyes in the missing posters would she be glad to be one of the “sad popular”? I shatter the home of her missing goldfish in my haste efforts to pick them up and put them out of sight- the bundles of glossy paper that my eyes can’t handle. I try to put them away, wanting to throw them away now that she wouldn’t mind, now that she won’t yell at me or anyone for taking away too much of her. I want to try it. i want to try, so she has no option but to stop me. “let’s leave her in peace” tells me my moral compass and my grief. “i don’t want to show her the kind of respect that only dead deserve” shouts back my anger and my love. I drop the heaviest bag in this world on her rain soaked bed. Her last dress, her last chocolate wrapper, her last bus ticket, her last mistake, her last breath everything spilling out, everything ruining the spring that I dreamed for her along with her.
Some days I am thankful to the walls that never broke down when I did, that looms up to the heights that seem more beautiful than sad (on certain days at least).
The tiny tiles, the cemented words in me- they were supposed to be who I am, they were meant to decompose when I chose to change my ways, when I chose to change my heart. But this ‘me that I have made’ is more magnificent, more important than me now.
My mask is more than a mask. It is my life, it is my M.O., it is the replies and answers planned out for every worst case. It is a solution that works somehow. It is a city where I live helplessly not because I am helpless. It is just difficult to throw away something I thought I was me. As my nature melts and takes new forms everyday this artificial me remains as my only point of reference. My pretense is the best I can ever be.
After a long time, I feel like walking towards the calm unknown. The wildness in me that I had thrown away, is waiting for me. They were always waiting to tell me all the gossips of stars and fishes, how lost and alone they both felt to know that blue they had in common were totally different worlds.
The clothes that made me look somewhat beautiful I fold them with care, leave it somewhere you won’t miss. Their newness would be the new metaphor for sadness, sadness – yours and mine.
There must be a magic to undo this curse of our feelings. There must be an answer, a life that doesn’t necessarily need us to be together. I will ask the cruel fairies that live in dying breaths to make you forget me at sunrise, to make me feel something for you again, as my life with you ends.
shadows of evening are still in my room the morning rays, the flickering light bulb, your laughter, they don’t do much.
cause this life of mirrored sunshines and smiles makes me feel nothing. there is something wrong with my heart which you might have known all along.
i toss another piece of me into the ocean. it is one other piece of me that you will never see, will never have again. you hold my hand and tell me what i have thrown away was too difficult to find in this world, that it was your most favorite thing about me.
i want to cry and apologize to you but i sit there feeling relieved now that I have one less thing to lose. there is something wrong with me to not want your kindness and your love. it is not your fault dear.
I did mean it all, I just didn’t want you to know. My momentary courage- the result of my long sleepless nights, let’s agree to call it my foolishness. For I won’t do anything as preposterous as that ever again. I won’t expect much from you again, not because I was at wrong.
Even though it was the only thing I could do, I regret it so much. I hate myself for trying to believe in you, for pushing myself to do the right thing for your sake.
As always you eat fast and cut me off. As always you have somewhere to go. There are too many people whom you must keep happy. Today I won’t throw everything on my plate for you. I won’t come to door to see your cold back.
I wish I could go back to the dreams where I told you about my life, about my pain and you held me as I cried, where you took me to the doors of my new life. But instead all I see in every face is your face. In your face all I see is my pathetic self who wanted to lean on someone like you.
I dreamt of a cold day, of a gray sky, of your warmth dissolving in air, of your smile being erased.
I lay on your bed surrounded by, covered in all the clothes you won’t ever wear. I saw myself crying, refusing to eat or sleep waiting for a new world to be created or to leave the world that I am in.
But eventually I woke up, I cleaned up my room, I threw out everything that mattered to me. I went to shop for a stomach that knows hunger a heart that can forget, a dream, a life without you. I thought I loved you more than this.
I tell myself stories about why I threw away all that I had, or why everything was taken away from me. How I was too weak, will always be too weak to carry the weight of the gifts that I had. Or how I was never quite convinced that I had something to be proud of. How I was always trying to gauge how much deep my feelings ran for everything that I could only sort-of-love. I can list all similar attempts where I sought a better quantitative understanding of my specialness and used these unreliable results to decide how and when to give up. But if I had to give one consolidated story of why I was never a failure at anything, why I never succeeded, why I had nothing to show for the years I lived or for the talents that people remember me for. If I had to be concise and true I would say I never made those decisions, I was never aware of how I felt about all the things that bother me now. I drifted away from what I was, from what I treasured, the way dear friends lose touch, lose each others name, lose a happiness they could have had. Only to be reminded of this loss when it no longer matters.
Most my life is about standing at the edge with the others and choosing whether to push them first or giving up on myself, by throwing myself away. And all my decisions have ended up in wait for someone else to decide my fate. Wait long enough to think we are friends who are here watching the world set on the sun, wait long enough to feel betrayed by the choice I myself would have made at some point.
But I think there may have been iterations that I choose not to remember where I was the one who severed my feelings for others with series of selfish decision. That is probably why even when I fall instead of feeling resentment, I say to myself “suffer a little more, pay it all off that is all that is left too do now.”
Even a harmless silence on your part brings me down to tears. I act in pathetic way trying to get you back, trying to buy your love sometime using sympathy, sometimes throwing tantrums, sometimes by changing myself, by changing you, at times pretending that I am done with you hoping that you try to stop me, and in my weakness even thinking of hurting myself if that is what it takes to keep you with me. But won’t there be a limit to the trials and errors that a heart can withstand. What after that? How shall I hold you here when that happens?
I tell myself everyday I must work hard to keep you in love with me till you can see in my tiring eyes how much you mean to me. But often you look at me as if you can see what I know I have become- a human who grows new appendages of greed everyday becoming a monster knowingly calling it love. I play this game by myself wondering meantime, why my love has turned out like this. Why can’t we be simply in love forever like were were made to believe that we could be? Tell me how to end this, this end that I want more that anything (even you) that end is the only thing that is not in my hands. I don’t know how to stop all that we have started, how to fix all that I have disfigured with my desperation.
I told myself
I just needed some answers
to solve this life.
So that I can untangle my feelings from this world,
from the shadows of people
I am maintaining by my wavering light.
But when nothing got solved
and the problems became too familiar
to be thrown away from my life.
I told myself I was searching
for an explanation.
Just a statement
that helped me make peace with what I got in life.
That if I could have those reasons,
then I believed my pain would dull.
But it didn’t and it won’t.
Now when I look at the world
with a passing amusement at my sadness,
I know my searching is the only thing
keeping me from severing my ties
from this world I so badly want to leave.