The Final Lullaby

Hold me close

Lull me back to sleep

 

A sleep I woke up from

A mistake

 

Lull me back to sleep

 

Hold me tight

Till I don’t feel a thing

 

A feeling called happiness

A mistake

 

Lull me back to sleep

 

Stroke my hair

Take my dreams away

 

A dream of future

A mistake

 

Lull me back to sleep

 

Kiss me once

The final kiss of death

 

A longing for life

A mistake

 

And lull me back to sleep

For The One Who Never Was

I think about you often. More times than what I’d like to admit.

And when I do not think about you, which also happens often, you trespass into my sub-conscious, into my dreams.

You are never the same in my dreams, after all, you were never the same in my reality. Sometimes you are the enemy I try running away from, sometimes an old friend who now is just an acquaintance. Sometimes you are in the crowd and I don’t realize it was you until I wake up. Sometimes, you kiss me.

I think about you often. I thought about you now, in the shower.

I don’t miss you. I just remember you. You are hard to forget.

“Everyone has their own Robin Scherbatsky” is what you told me once. You were mine. I cried today, in the shower. Was it because of you or all the other things I am holding in? It could not have been you, it has been seven years after all.

I do not regret letting you go. I still think about that talk we had after you pushed me away for months. I was happy and then you called.

“I am sorry I believed in the others. I believed in the rumours. Could we be friends again?” is what you said. Do you  remember?

I was tired, and stubborn but I still made the right decision. You were not right for me. You were wrong. You were wrong in believing the rumours and I still don’t know what rumours you were talking about. You were wrong in believing that you could ignore me, throw me away as an undesirable without killing me. You were wrong in your apology, in your words. No, we could have never been friends again because we never were friends. We were bestfriends and you already were more than that for me and you were wrong.

I do not regret letting you go. I still remember the last text you sent me.

“You are going to regret your decision.” and regret I  might.

But sometimes the bitter pill which is hard to swallow is what keeps you alive. You were my sweet treat, darling, and you were hurting me.

I remembered you again today. It’s probably all the love stories I am reading that is messing with my mind.

When people writing about lost love they write about their lover’s smile, their eyes, their voice. And though I was surrounded by you back then, I don’t remember those things now. It has been too long after all.

What I do remember instead are your soft arms, softer than the others. So soft that I could hold them all day. I remember now the scar on your left arm that your mother gave. What an unforgettable thing to do. That scar full of pain and tears, and how I tried to fill your wound with all my love and all my care. Do you remember? When you look at your scar now does it remind you of my words. I wish I could have kissed your scar away like how I want to do now.

What I do remember is your hair. Your beautiful dull brown hair which never stayed in place but kept flowing like a stream. How they used to slip from my fingers on those occasions when you used to asked me to tie them up for you. Oh, I loved your hair. The beauty that they were. So different from my own curly mess, I thought, and so much like you. Slipping away from my fingers.

I don’t know if it was love. It probably was. But I don’t know which type of love was it. Platonic? Kinship? Eros? Do you remember?

Why had you kissed me? Which love was it?

I asked you recently, “You had kissed me.Was it truly an accidental kiss? Do you remember?

I wanted to know which love was it. Was it too dark for you to see the difference between my cheek and my lips? Was it a mistake or did you mean it? The curiosity was eating away at me but you said, “I don’t remember anything like that happening”

Do you really not remember? Or are you lying?

Was that kiss so unimportant to you? Or are you ashamed?

You are lying, aren’t you? Once could be a mistake but tell me, did you kiss me just once? Because if I were to trust my memory and my decision, thrice is no accident.

Did you kiss me to prove to yourself? To try? To experiment?

Would there have been a fourth time if I hadn’t backed away that one time? Could we have had a fourth time?

Would you have remembered the fourth time?

It has already been seven years and soon many more years will pass us by with you standing there on the other side of my wall.

I will always remember you for the scar you left. The scar I so diligently decorated and made my own.

Will you remember me?

Will you remember us, talking all night and welcoming the sun in the morning? Will you remember the astronomical telephone bill which cost our parents? Will you remember the dreams we had and the promises we made? Two little houses next to each other because we could never stay apart.

What we had was not love. I know of that. It was two teens within their own bubble.

And If you happen to read this and realise this one is for you, please don’t try to reach out to me. You probably won’t because this post is strange and if I know anything about you from present time, I know this post will disgust you.

But years from now when I being to forget you. Your scar, your hair, your lips…

Will you help me remember?

I don’t know what to call my feelings for you and I am left with one term, Unrequited Love

Because you are The One Who Never Was

 

 

 

 

And the Rain Falls

Lying on the bed,

Eyes outside the window

And Mind miles away.

Seeing the rain fall,

The distant pitter and patter.

Lying on the bed,

Hand in hair.

Thoughts there and everywhere.

The season is rubbing off on me.

The monsoon is outside

And on my mind

As clock ticks and tocks,

The grey season makes me blue.

And I lie on my bed.

The world is not a wish-granting factory

Today I picked up The fault in our Stars and began reading it from a random page. As I was reading, I imagined myself in the characters’ position, as you do.  I imagined what it would be like to have a disease which kills you not only physically but also mentally. What it would be like to be a Grenade as Hazel puts it in the book.

It would be heartbreaking and scary, no doubt about it and I am not one of those weirdos who wish to be Hazel Grace because it’s oh so romantic. But I still imagine what I would do if I come to know today that my days are numbered.

And thus began my mental checklist of what I would do and what I should do if I have few months of life left. Midway through this discussion I asked myself, “Why don’t I do these things now? Why do I have to wait for a deadline before I start doing things I want to?”

Continue reading “The world is not a wish-granting factory”

All in Head

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

Imagine there is a person you are not so fond of. Maybe you know them well, maybe not. They get their work done most of the time, probably, but you won’t trust them because, let’s be real.

They, the person themselves, are alright. Very average, on the lower side. Not too good looking, ugly even. Not too bright either. They have done no wrong to you, probably. But there are some people you can’t help but hate.

You dislike them, yes. You despise them.

Why don’t they change already?” is what you think.

Now imagine that this person whom you can’t stand is someone you have to be with. All day, every day. All you can do is grind your teeth and get to work. All day, every day. You are with them. While you are working, enjoying, relaxing. You are forced to live every moment of your existence with the person you hate, a person you can’t trust, a person who makes you uncomfortable.

How long will it be before you give up? Before you snap and can’t take it anymore? What will you do?

Complain? Argue? Run away?

To whom? About what? Where to?

Night and day; Day and night. You have to be with this person.

It’s hard, I know.

Now imagine that this person is you.

The person you loth or the person you have trust issues with. The person you find unbelievably ugly or the person who is good for nothing is you.

What would you do? Where would you go?

When you can’t stand the thought of being you.

You will be anxious and you will be depressed. Without any confidence and alone. Without any sanctuary. Running away from the person you are, the person you don’t want to be.

It’s all in your head.” they might conclude.

Yes, that’s true.

But all the same, it’s too real for me.

All too real and All in the head