Lovestain.

Once upon a time, there used to be a girl. Oblivious to the world, in her own happy world with her friends, with the ephemeral loving relationships, in the happiness that those few people brought to her.

She was merry. In her head, nothing but self love evolved. Translated into many different languages, her world was perfect in her head. Defiant teenager, irritating to most adults, misunderstood to most her age yet the most popular. Infamous, perhaps but well known nevertheless. She was happy and that's all that mattered to her.

One day, like any other day, she was venturing out on her own, making a trip to the local basketball court, hoping to have some unadulterated fun. Alone, most likely but fun, anyhow. The evening passed in it's merry overture and she was ready to head home to take on that another sphere of her life. But the fatigue made her sit down with a "friend" who had company of his own. He introduced her to his friend. They greeted one another. She smiled, he responded and then they talked.

She talked to him, like she's talk to any other stranger. And then they went their separate ways. Next day, they talked again, this time a little longer and again headed in their respective directions. The following day, they spoke on the instant messaging system, for long. Slowly, they spoke everyday, laughed together and started to become friends. They started to discuss their lives. Talk about themselves.

Somehow, somewhere, they didn't know what, they liked spending all those hours on the phone. Soon, the hours on the phone translated into rendezvous and they enjoyed it. One of those days, it was raining, they stood under a tree and talked some more. It started to pour much heavily and they ran through the rain, laughing and jumping in puddles of water on the way. They had fun.

Soon after, a phone call changed everything. Those four hours, he spoke, she listened. He said things, she listened. Till he said he loved her and she said, she did too. Everything changed. They were in love. How? When? They didn't know. They didn't care. They were in love and that is all that mattered. Happiness expanded a thousand times over and she hadn't seen paradise so close before.

All was merry, again. Till one day she said to him what she had been hiding for long. She expected everything to turn upside down but on the flip side of things, it bonded them together even more. Her confession, created a crack for a little while but all the love that there was, bound them back together. Things were working out again. She smiled with him again. It was working out perfectly. They'd planned out everything. How they'd spend every day for the rest of their lives, loving one another, taking care of each other till death did them apart.

Horror struck one day when another accident fell into her lap and she sunk in too deep to get out without harming them. She messed up again. This time, however, hell hath no fury. Each time after, he'd see her, he was blinded with fury, resentment and vengeance. All was lost. She had it this close. She didn't realize it was feather light, she blew it off far beyond her reach.

She left a love stain on his heart, on her heart and in the sanctity of all that existed between them. She dug a gorge of mistrust and infidelity. She dug her own cave and she swam in her pool of tears. The mirror was her source of sympathy. Even the mirror refused to sympathize after a while. She had no where to run. She didn't deserve to. She'd ruined what they stood for and she can't compensate for it in anyway. He couldn't let go because he's worked too hard to build it. No man likes to see his creation fail so miserably. He couldn't either and he held on. For all that was worth, they still loved each other. It's credibility, shattered ofcourse but it was love like no other. It was love beyond that which the mind could comprehend. It wasn't love, it wasn't big love, it was Great Love. It was an epic.

And all that it is left to be is a meager Love Stain.

Fool's Paradise.

>When it became from a dream to a nightmare is still unclear...but I know now, that I honestly am afraid to close my eyes,lest I fall asleep and have the same nightmare again.

>When it transitioned into this cloud of smoke from my bubble of hope, I don't know. But it has, and so I avoid any nimbus to hover upon me.

It's like this invisible lair of memories which are crystal clear to me but oh so blurry to him. Is it just my imagination or did they really happen...?

Maybe today is my imagination, maybe everything over the last 3 months never happened. Maybe I'm still sleeping and God, I hope I wake up soon. I know I'm probably fidgeting in bed, throwing myself around the place but somehow, I cannot wake up. You've shut my eyes forever. You sealed them tight and I enjoyed for the moment knowing it made you happy but right now I don't know if that is enough anymore. I don't know what is enough anymore.

You're oblivious, indecisive. I'm just a fool.
Knowing that there is no hope, no future and it's only a matter of time till you disappear... knowing the horror in advance...
I still hope.

Fool's paradise, indeed.

There is no credibility of anything anymore. It's just a farce for you and a morsel of rejoice from time to time for me.

You've changed. I've changed. Everything in between is become a stage show. The easier it becomes for you, the more real it gets for me. The more you detach yourself, the more I seem to sink at my knees. It's like we're tripping on two different drugs. But we both are experiencing a trip, nevertheless.

Fool's paradise.

I like it. I'm comfortable in it. Even if it is to be my end soon.

I'm just running in circled, chasing the sun. Helpless.

A Bad Dream- Keane

Why do I have to fly
Over every town up and down the line?
I'll die in the clouds above
And you that I defend, I do not love

I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind

Where will I meet my fate?
Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend

I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
Wouldn't mind it
If you were by my side
But you're long gone
Yeah you're long gone now

Where do we go?
I don't even know
My strange old face
And I'm thinking about those days
And I'm thinking about those days

I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
Wouldn't mind it
If you were by my side
But you're long gone
Yeah you're long gone now


For everyone.

Sometimes I just want to sleep my days and nights put together. When I twist and turn in bed, thinking of reasons to sleep. Just toss around in the sheets, tire myself and fall back to sleep. Sometimes, I just don't want my day to end or for another to begin at all. All of this happens when I'm looking for something, waiting.
I can't sleep.
I can't breathe.
I'm waiting for him to come back.
Because he is everything.

There must be some kind of tranquilizer that would make all of this a bad dream and when the next time I open my eyes, I would find myself in the arms of heaven. The earth, hell and everything in between would've vanished and all that remained would be things that will lift spirits and spread joy. Endlessly.

It happened so fast, he came in, conquered, I disappointed, he left. Just one day, we went walking and he didn't need to take my hand in his anymore. Everything had changed. I knew right then. And then there was the time, when he held me close to him, my body writhing up against the wall, my eyes split wide open in horror, when I saw his hand that once caressed my face, flying across. I felt a pang of emotions, no pain, no hurt, just the repercussion of a fallen cause. Tears streamed down my face, it wasn't because the hit hurt, it was because I knew I deserved it and he hated to do it but he did.

It's all a blur now, from within this curtain, it's all hazy and blurry.
Maybe this is what a slow painful death looks like.
Yes, that must be it.
Because, nothing certainly is worse than this.
Nothing else.

I want to run, run far, run fast.
I want to run so fast that not even my shadow could follow. I want to flee. This is too much pain, too unjust for me to face.
I don't have the strength to fight or justify. I don't know what is right or wrong anymore. Every turn seems to be paved with thorns. Even the inviting doors lead to destruction and destitution. Where does one go when they feel like this?

I want to hide. Hide under my black blanket and never peek through. I want to hide, cover myself head to toe and not leave an inch uncovered or unprotected. I want to hide under this lair of eternity.

I want to hold my head in my hands and cry my eyes out. i don't want the tears to stop flowing till all my anguish and pain is washed away... I want my emotions to flood the emptiness I call life.

Every breath is traded for, every thing I do seems to be a part of a scripted play. Every word I say is part of a pre-written dialog. No credibility. No respect. No faith.
Just hollow... shallow, forsaken, estranged and eventually forgotten.

And then, you'd wave your hand over my face, wipe that dried tear stain, say you care and I melt in your arms, cry hysterically for a few minutes, you'd look me in the eye, say you love me, I'd cry some more, and finally fall back into your trance. You smile... is that an evil grin, or a smile that I once knew, it's hard to tell... I give up. Take me, eat me, chew me to pieces, swallow me, spit me out... I'm yours for the taking.

I'll take whatever comes my way because this is what I created. A monster, perhaps, but mine, nevertheless. Love. Hate and everything in between.

R.I.P.

Somethings Awry and Wonderful.

I poke myself with the sharp edge of the pencil, before it leaves a dark imprint on my skin. I turn it around and with the little eraser at the head of the pencil, I try to rub off the imprint. It lightens but doesn't quite disappear. In the depths of skin the tingly feeling of the poke still prevails and every now and then it throbs to life. The impregnating sensation of the prick reminds me of the first time I got a shot at the doctor's. He said, it would hurt only a little. I squeezed my nose, and close my eyes and waited for the thorny needle to make it's way down into my veins and extract some red dribbly substance. I tried to think of all the things that made me happy- a trick I learned from my much experienced friends- and before any such image could inaugurate my imagination, it was done.

[Not much has changed since then. A lot of important moments just seem to flash by in seconds and more often than not I miss it. It's just carelessly I think or maybe myopic vision. One or the other way, I tend to overlook.]

The graphite mark still haunts me. It's like a bad taste in your mouth. One that you don't forget for a long time. It might seem trivial and unexciting but it's these little things that have begun to govern the way I perceive things. The whole concept of materializing thoughts into action is a way of life that I can only envision. I often wish I could make it happen but some way or another I'm made aware that I think wrong. It's then that the weary feeling of defeat that begins to carve it's way down in the depths of nothingness. The scornful staring at the ceiling starts to get stronger. The mystical aura around the head seems more prominent and the feeling to loss personifies. When everything around me seems to zoom past and all the lights and sounds seem blurry and muffled- like a bad dream. That's probably it. A bad dream.

A.Big.Bad.Dream.

Missing Link.

The common chord that binds two people together, is rather effervescent. One minute it's the tightest most conforming bond and the next it goes up in ashes. It takes years to create a bond worth cherishing and it takes mere seconds to nullify all that it was worth. Everything just brushes aside when you consider what it was that made you angry in the first place. Everything just becomes an insipid amount of pity and regret that governs every move that follows.It becomes weightless and hollow... it creates a void.
And once the void has found a way to creep into our lives, it becomes this incessant parasite that eats away every sensation of happiness and comfort. Be it in the arms of your lover, the folds of your mother's lap or the words of a well wisher. It all comes down to the desperate attempt to fulfill that void- that which seems to haunt you and chase you around till you somehow close your eyes and wish it away.
We all live in the non-belief and illusion of the "someday". Some call it hope, some call it revelation but sooner or later for the most part it turns to regret. Every one is bound to make mistakes in some sphere of life, but where the regret broods is the understanding that the mistake you've made is one that will change your life. It is a vicious cycle of realization and then the final attempt of rectification.
Second chances, third chances...they all materialize when it's something of great interest. Something you wish to save with every inch of your life... hold on to it, till you fade away. Where does that urgency come from.... Dependence.
The truth in it's hardest form, the most tangible and yet the most cryptic reality... Dependence... Symbiosis...
...Love...