i cried again today – a silent sob hidden behind the highest volume of television. yesterday i found my grief for a second in the fading of another song. it lasted for a second- my glace, my hopeless glance at your retreating figure and my fruitless love left in its wake. a shallow love clenching my heart.
someone whispered you are special and i knew that this is sleep (the pleasantly confusing side), that this is a memory of something that will never happen again (should i be sad?). paper dolls hurried me down the aisle of a supermarket, opening up packets and packets of laughter that I had not yet paid for (should i be worried?) They made me stand at the counter, chirping “it’s time”, “it’s time” “it’s time” and someone who tried hard to look like a human, who had tried to scratch away the face of demon drawn by my hands, stood with a trolley filled with sad colors, handed me his card with my name written on his scratched out one and told me “now you fall”. and all i could say was “i hate you” “i hate you – not in used-to-love-you way” “i hate you – the way i hate having a broken heart” “let me wake up”
Before knowing the alphabets of your name or mine, I learnt to make you smile. I pluck another flower that makes me sneeze every time but the silly pathetic me smiles as you smile as I crawl to you losing balance, losing something similar to heart, as I dress you up in a mountain of petals I clenched too hard hoping you would never move away from me. How you dozed off as I made myself sick with my ambition. How you were still sleeping as your mother took you in arms brushing away every piece of my care. But it is better than the days I woke up with only the traces of my feelings, my cradle of flowers without you in it.
there are mornings when i have forgotten how to forget. i open my eyes only believing the dream just broken. there are mornings when i hate myself for waking up and my body for needing reality so much.
“i cannot give my heart to you”, i remind myself to say this as i gulp down a glass of chocolate milk, in case someone decides to fall in love with me today. it is unfortunate that i have to force myself to say these words, when it is so much easier to utter “yes”, especially when i have hunger only for love.
as i untangle my earphones i almost step into another puddle of my previous life. there is something odd about finding my tears again. i stand there, wanting to be of comfort to myself but the one who is still drowning, drowning for years i do not want her, i do not want to catch her disease of hope.
there are days like these, when taking a step forward is the most cruel thing to do. when being human is risky, is the first step towards defeat. when healing comes with a downtime, time that I must answer for.
on days like these i find myself losing my sight, and it is in that darkness that I find you. how lucky you are that you will stay like this stay beautiful, stay mine only here, only in my moments of madness and helplessness.
P.S. i am always amazed at how easy it is to give up on myself that to give up on you.even when you were the worst of us.
hiding my smile when you walk towards me talking your name, just because i can (just to make sure that i can). feeling like a child when you call my name back. interrupting the meaningful silence with pointless debates, pretending to sulk, acting cute, being happy to act like idiots for once. wasting away time, walking towards nowhere because that is what we do.
painting each other again till we get it right. loving in every way possible. trying to become the love that cannot be forgotten. sweet words, sad past, family tree in red ink, lost friends, lost innocence fill our time. reliving the past that we suffered alone in each other’s presence. finding meaning in destiny, agreeing with god’s plan, begging for a day more of this, this happiness that fills us with dread and hope of being understood.
waking at midnight, hiding my body that you have killed for the day. waking at noon, looking for you, giving you second chances. getting back only one word reply- ‘hi’,’ok’, ‘hmmm’, ‘lol’,’k’, ‘bye’. waking up again and again. going to sleep again and again. murmuring your bitter name in my sleep with tears i won’t remember.
silence – avoiding uncomfortable topics silence – avoiding fights silence – nursing wounded ego silence – planning revenge (or something of that sort) silence – being handed the list of shortcomings silence – being handed ultimatums silence – having nothing to talk silence – feeling lonely silence – ‘love’ has left the chat
waiting at cafes that sell drinks which taste like the mass-produced dreams that make your heart burn and everything with chocolate as a cheap therapy, as they play breakup songs on repeat to normalize the pain of every kind.
You were the most imperfect person I ever met and have made me believe that I am worse.
Or maybe I saw too much of you. so much that you made me feel sick of you, sick of myself, and sick of whatever they call love.
You stumbled around walking over my feelings, drunk on your pride and your sense of entitlement, threw away what I treasured because obviously you knew better, called me insane called me names when I called you out on your hypocrisy.
Waking up next morning expecting understanding, expecting obedience, expecting another day of a convenient love with this inconvenient woman. One day, that day won’t come.
Every night as you sleep, I fold myself up into someone I used to be. I try to fit into the space beside you where no longer fit.
But your warmth now only brings me tears. I wish it didn’t. Even though I stopped wanting you, I don’t think I stopped loving you. I wish I didn’t. I know I will give you up someday but till then I wanted to gift you few more days- few more days of ignorance. You will probably sleep through them not knowing how much I must have loved you to stay beside, you even when you were not watching, withstanding my pain as long as possible.
The night grows deeper, your sleep lasts longer, my cries become louder, but there is no one for me, no one to care, if I cry.
Please wake up and see my tears before I can hide them. Put me to sleep, please love me back, love me again, before I give up on you.
beauty may be only skin deep but lack of it goes deeper than that. so deep that you end up learning to want things that you wouldn’t otherwise even think about. i wish i could remember every face that was surprised to know that i am okay with looking older than i am, surprised that i do not want to exorcise fats especially when i have got so much of it. every morning i wake up they hover over me like faceless shadows with black markers, drawing over my body showing me all that is wrong, giving me tips so that i can become easy to look at, hiding their superficiality under the wraps of concern, whispering how thick-skinned i am when i don’t listen and wondering what is wrong with the ones who love me. it made me wonder that maybe going under the knife wouldn’t be as bad as being smeared black by markers. that maybe i am supposed to love myself only after the world approves of the ‘me’ that i want to love. i would have understood if they cared, if they actually meant good, but they don’t because they know nothing more than my name and they say my name only with heart-breaking adjectives and assumptions. i want to say they are wrong, but i have suffered their gaze for so long that sometimes i end up sharing their hatred of me, of what they see. there are days that i obsess over a passing comment. there are days i beat up myself for being like this. i starve and fail, i try to get over their words and fail, i try to hate myself and fail. i want to say it doesn’t matter but it does because i am tiring myself out by trying to see something good in me, by apologizing to myself, by trying to save my heart while they burn my body in the woods.
I want to write about the boring,
about all that is insignificant,
about the trust that lasts,
about the promises that are kept,
about the things we don’t have to beg from god.
I belive there must be some things in life that goes as we wanted to, that didn’t take our effort, our prayers to go right, that fell into place so naturally that we didn’t even notice the ease they gave us. The boring that is neglected, that is mocked must be a dream for a person I don’t know of. The days of charity and donation, the realization of the lack that we don’t experience hits us only briefly, gives us only short lived sadness or gratitude and a bit of pride (that has a little longer life) in ourselves for venturing out of our boredom to witness the lacking of others, to distribute a bit of what we have in abundance.
But I am not that changed, I am not that affected. Tomorrow when I wake up I will forget about the stomachs that are never filled, about the dry glass and throats, about the darkness that night brings, about little curious eyes that will never see a book. Tomorrow, again I will shamelessly write about my need for love and acceptance.
But that is how I am and with time I have learned not to feel guilty for being like this, for that is the kind of human I was made to be. I will only be bothered by the small bruise on my face, the small cuts on my hand, even if I know the existence of greater pain, for that knowledge is not an anesthetic . I am a petty creature like that and I can only really feel my own loss.
For someone who speaks so much I mean so little of what I say. I let myself be swayed too easily and too often. I foolishly take my passing feelings and poor judgments as some eternal truth, when they are not.
Today, I may talk of my wait
for this sorrow to leave my life.
Tomorrow, I will claim it as my only friend
from whom I do not wish to be apart.
All those contradicting words
are true and heartfelt
but only for that moment of time.
Tomorrow I may as well wake up and say that
my sorrow is you- my beating heart.
And I won’t be too far from the truth.