One of those not ‘feeling good’ day I am having and I thought maybe writing will help me little bits. What is bothering me no one knows and maybe even I don’t but whatever it must be I hope it dies soon. Just the kind of day I want to cry or maybe even howl but I cannot. Kind of day where I want to snap out at everyone and without reason.
This place has become my personal diary where I
just have to take out and things make sense. One of the advantages of being
semi anonymous I guess.
Now back to the problem. Life is little bit mess
right but I know it will be fine the same hectic schedule starts. But I have become
too much of an over thinker now. And even worse when things go sane. Last month
was in many mess, health wise mostly.
Also, stopped being the nice one. Yet, I
felt sane. And now when life is again
better, I feel crap. Mended some old
bonds and I am glad. Maybe I should not have. Caring brings the worse in me.
But I need it. For my mental peace too. Also, after a brief moment, my muse
disappointed me once again. And I let it die a silent death. That doesn't mean he
will never make a comeback. He will be around. Just. Maybe because I dreamed of
his coldness last night that I am much more messed.
Someone, destroyed me for love. And thereafter I
only made mistakes. Hurt people, got hurt, became a cold persona. Stopped
feeling. Became too selfish for anyone to know. Then muse came and I saw hope.
He didn't do anything new now. But I realized let’s not have a story. For I am
poles apart from what I was. I just lost the ability to love and patience for
it. I might want a companion, but according to my whims and fancies, and that
is not how it works.
This doesn't mean I stopped having fun. I share a
smile, sometimes a coffee. But that is it. Last time I went ahead and formed a
relationship, I damaged myself and he never cared. I became so cold that I had
no morose of it ending. This wasn’t me. But alas it is.
You must be thinking a believer like me saying all
this. Yes, I believe. The mushy stuff I write makes me hope. Or maybe I love my
dreams. It is these imaginations which make me happy after a bad day.
Fairytales aren’t for me, but I still delve in them for they are my happy
quotient. I still hope I be proved wrong. But life is beyond those words and
hopes. Love is much beyond those kisses and embrace. It is also about tears,
separations and hurtful words. It has ability to thrash us so hard that we
never pick up our pieces. I am still picking mine. I do want a happy ending,
but maybe without love. But living loveless is not how God made a person like
me. He filled in too much feelings in me. He made for me poetry, to feel it in
the misery. He made me to give it all, and yet be happy with it. One part of it
died long ago. Then I discovered the other. I relish my tales, my mush, my
movie kind of imaginations. But these are things that sell. Not kind that
happen to us, writers. We end up alone at times. Dying with a book in one hand
and ink spilled pages in another.
Too much pessimism happened right? What to do.
Sometimes smiles refuse to reach my lips. Forget eyes. In attempt to make other
laugh, I lost mine maybe. Or maybe I got tired of doing things and giving all
what others’ need. Maybe I do need a kind word once a while. Or be pampered
with all love they have. Sometimes it is important to express, and sometimes it’s
important to feel what others have for you. Sometimes all we want, is to hold
hand with someone and just watch the sky at night. But even that is scary now.
For then we expect and then it pains.
Once I never cared if it hurts, I was overflowing
with love. Even if he berated me, I found an excuse for that and I was often
true. For, he did fell in love. Just never knew how to show and was scared if
he did it will hurt more. But he forgot, that is all I had to take away when he
left. Maybe he was right, because in spite of showing less, I am a bundle of
his memories. For he took my soul away, and one night told me, he felt that his
soul left to enter mine. And that is still my most cherish memory. We were two
souls, fighting a distance, having a silly lover’s conversation post-midnight
on the phone and a moment changed it all. I felt a white invisible angelic
force embracing me and so he did. And thereafter, I called him the soul mate.
But then, it is said, soul mates never meet, for they are not meant for mundane
tasks. But I never want to settle for anything less than that. But irony is no
two loves are same. I might love again but not similarly. And I still hope, I
still search, maybe I do have some ending. Some closure. He does the same. Even
now. We still communicate in distress. But know our realities.
Some people say, we can have many soul mates. Some
even call them best friends. I still wish I have not exhausted my quota. Maybe
I should steal one from the heavens. But all I know is my quota for hurt is way
overflowing and if I do feel once again and it goes dramatically wrong, I will
be done with even hope. And that is one reason I have stopped feeling too, even
if the other showers all the love. For I am wary of humans. I don’t want to be
an object to be played upon anymore and I wouldn’t be. It will take too much
patience for anyone to make me believe in their feelings. I just don’t hope.
But if they can make me believe and crack my shield, I am sure they will be
worth it. Only a messiah can heal. Only he can make me believe. And make it
known that beautiful love is worth it. I hope he exists. Till then, I console my
heart to be thankful that at least he has known love.
I wish, I believe, I hope……love still exists….for
me.



Good to see u are opening up more sister...
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