True. False.

Truth.
It is a clever concept that challenges my sanity and sanctity at every step. It is one of those things that the more you think you understand, another level appears. It is an illusion of completeness yet one of those things that make you so empty from the inside, that your heart just floats around in your body, with no destination or purpose.
The truth is often measured by the opinion and compliance of others. It is indeed a relative concept except very few will actually admit that. That's the truth about truth. It's a little funny, if you think about it. How we keep chasing this one word trying to fulfill it down to the last letter, although, none of us really know what it stands for. What good is such a virtue? Seems like such a waste. In the pursuit of verity, we lose ourselves, ever thought of that? How many times have we altered our behavior in order to adjust to what the truth claims?
I think truth is a vestigial virtue. Something that was valid in the days of the great Mahatma Gandhi and his ideal world. In the real world, truth has no place. Not amongst friends, lover, family. No one. Every one is out to protect themselves and keep their names intact. Not willing to get their hands dirty for something as atomic as the truth. Ha!
Now, that is the truth.

Defending the truth is not something one does out of a sense of duty or to allay guilt complexes, but is a reward in itself.

My glasses broke. Again. I am blind for the moment, and as I write, I am sticking my nose to the keyboard, darting my eyes from the monitor screen to the keypad, every 5 seconds.
I wear contact lenses but I was too lazy to wear mine today, and so I'm blind.
It's uncomfortable beyond reason but I like the discomfort, gives me a better understanding of the gift of sight. My doctor says I should get Lasik surgery, I'm in the perfect bandwidth of screwed up vision for that kind of thing. Perfect somewhere.
Ironic how my disability is a perfection in itself. Ha! In some parallel universe it's probably good luck, maybe I would be too.
A few tests proved that I have of what they psychologists say Borderline Personality Disorder and 4 sister disorders. I think the test results made me cry, though I don't quite remember, it could've been a dream.
It makes me happy to know that my disorders are the reason I'm the way I am and not some congenital malfunction. Its independent of anything of what my household is like. That's cool. Makes me different. I like it.
See, it's simple, the little joys of life are all that I need. It doesn't take much to make me smile. A tickle, a stare or if I'm lucky a hug. All it takes.
Simple, Isn't it?
My head hurts now, from all the back and forth and I think my ears are bleeding. For reasons that shall be stated at another time.
This is the best I can do.
All I have is out here. And out there.
An open book, pages are fluttering around waiting to be ripped off the spine of the book.
Take a shot at it, it's an exhilarating feeling.

Go on.

Defeat.

'I am sorry' - she whispers... Extending a pallid corpse-like hand.Bone white fingers seeking, to grasp him.In supplication, to stroke his satiny skin.Perhaps to tousle an ebony curl or two.'I am sorry,' - she repeats.'I have failed you.'

He ignores her as if she were a ghost.She looks like one.A ghost of her former glory.A mockery of that bubbling fount of youth he remembers.He desired her then, both he and she know that.Desired her when she was vibrant, golden-haired.Plump with the jucies of living.

'I am sorry' - she tries again.Her fingers almost manage to bestow their tender caress.But he shies away, flinches from her as if she were Death herself.He does not want her apology.Does not care - it is too late.She failed, failed, failed...

She is beautiful no longer.Beautiful she is, but not to him.He does not see the beauty in her mournful eyes.Those sorrowing windows of earthy brown.Nor does he see it in her feathery tresses.Soft and light as thistledown, a dark chocolate brown.All that is not gold does not glitter for him.Nor is her pallid skin enough to entice.It is the epidermis of a wilted flower.Or a phantom.No pulse can he detect there, nor does he see.The frantic beating of her heart.Like a caged bird trying to flee its cage.And fly to him on silken wings of shadow.

'I am sorry' - she tries one last time.But he is already gone.His back is turned and he strides towards a distant light.The gleam of an opened door waiting to admit him.And swing shut on her gaunt white face.She sighs, sorrows, sobs.Crumples to her scarred white knees.And bows her head - she admits defeat

She was on her knees... Sobbing... Sobbing so deeply that it hurt her chest. Her face was completely covered in tears, her vision was so blurred that she could barely see his outline. Him. He was standing right in front of her watching as she begged for him to explain what had happened.
He saw this pathetic creature before him... He had once held her in his arms as he told her that he loved her, and promised her the world. He had once looked into her eyes and seen nothing but pure undying love.
But then, just as quickly as he had brought her that happiness, the love she thought might never end, he took it away.
He looked at her, sitting there, blankly. He acted like they had never met, and he didn't even acknowledge the pain that he had caused her. He just sat there like a stone, saying not a word to her pleas.
She looked up at him, her eyes red, her face blotchy. She knew she wasn't going to get an answer. She got up, looked him in the eyes, and saw nothing. She suddenly felt cold. The love that she had once seen in his eyes was gone. A memory that, from his expression now, was hard to recall.
This was the end. All that they had gone through, all that they had said, was gone.
She wished at this point that she could be like him, able to forget everything without a second thought, without any pain whatsoever.
She looked down, turned around, stood up straight and walked away.

Uplifting.

I whispered into his ears. I waited for a reaction.
Nothing.

I asked, 'What's wrong?'
Nothing.

'Why're you so quiet?'
Nothing.

'Okay then, I'll go.'
Nothing.
__________________________________________

The story goes like this:

There was once a man, married to a woman for as long as he could remember. He was a wealthy man, respected and well known. His woman, a lesser known yet respectable woman. On the exterior, they looked like the perfect couple. On the inside, they made believe they were the perfect couple.

As their lives unfolded, they seemed to drift apart (big surprise!) Soon he lost interest in her and she became yet another lifeless entity in the house. She realized it but didn't address it. Denial, they call it. Days went by and things were still unchanged, and soon enough he fell in love again. This time, with a different woman. She was prettier, smarter, funnier and everything seemed like an adventure with her. It's like when young love reels out. The oozing passion, the constant laughter, the ceasing moments, the hours of conversation and all those sickening acts of adoration for one another. They spent a chunk of time together. While the wife ran errands and took care of all the other objects in the house, all the other objects except herself.

The time had finally arrived when the new woman wanted legitimacy. The time had come, he realized, to break the wife's heart. He was determined to do it but he decided to do it in a decent way. For old time's sake, he thought. He called her and arranged to meet at their favorite restaurant for dinner. She had butterflies in her stomach. What if , she thought. What if this was the moment when all that she had subconsciously wished for was about to come true. She wore her best outfit, wore make-up just the way he liked it, and headed to meet him. She walked in to find their patent table empty. She sat at the table and ordered a glass of wine. While she waited she thought of a million and one things but everything seemed fuzzy because of the overwhelming emotions.

He finally arrived, he looked haggled. He was walking slowly and rather unsteadily. He eyes were filled with purpose. He sat across her, smiled at her. She smiled back, a half-smile. She knows, he thought. Beads of sweat gathered at his temples, his fingers twitched and for some odd reason his left arm had gone numb. Damn the spondylosis! They ordered the meal in silence. He couldn't even look at her face. Guilt, was an overpowering feeling. He was rehearsing the monologue in his head, for the thousandth time. The sentence formed, and he was about to spit out the cruel words, when just then, she broke into hysterical tears.Perplexed and amazed at the woman's intuition, he lost track. As a reflex, he held her hand and asked almost sincerely, 'What's wrong?'. She just sniffled sadly. Her dessert plate now looked like a runoff and she grabbed his hand tighter. He asked again and this time she looked up. Her brown eyes had never looked so empty like they did now. He shuddered. She tilted her head to the left, like she always did when she was about to say something important. And then the ominous words came out.

'I have leukemia. I have 3 months.'

Something changed right then, all the words that he had so carefully gathered over the period of time, seemed to chant incoherently in his head. Everything became white noise and his head felt like it was about to explode. Just then he decided against all his plans and his careful calculations. He just held her and they walked home- quietly and passively. He started to take care of her, take her to her favorite places, read her favorite books with her, sit with her for hours go fro long walks to unidentified places.

The new woman, kept calling him, he kept ignoring the calls until one day he sent her a text message saying it was over. No one knows for sure, what became of her.

And then the 3 months passed and so did the wife. He cried for a month.
He still walked to those unidentified places, alone this time. And it was on one of those walks that it suddenly struck him that in pretending to love her for those 3 months, he had in fact fallen in love with her again.

______________________________________________________________

Nothing.

Mystifying depth in her eyes,
they tell a story about her life.
They speak of that, that should not be told,
they yearn to see love, more than that can be showed.
they see the world through a glass,
they learn to smile, even to the masks.
the sadness that she tries to hide,
the things that she want to leave aside.
the times she wishes to be with him,
the times she longed to kiss him.
the hours she spent crying, trying to forget,
the days she spent in regret.
the mystery uncovered,
the truth discovered.
the things she wanted to say,
those that would get in her way.
knowing that the end was near,
at last she slept with nothing to fear.