Tuesday, August 1, 2017

My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore.

So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them.

—  Laurell K. Hamilton

Monday, March 20, 2017

Late night musings...

Another night, another city, another hotel room
The view is great from my 26th floor window
Inside my head, not so much

It's strange
How I spend my days on flights nowadays
And my life rooted to the past

Dreams that were simple
And now seem completely out of reach
Over compensating with meaningless triumphs 

An Instagram feed that speaks of great adventures
And friends in every city
The filters effectively camouflaging my solitude

No lack of attention
Compliments, flattery, harmless flirting and unwanted advances
But what I want has turned to dust

Sitting in a darkened room
Twinkling city lights below and that fleeting sense of glamour
An ordinary girl craving an extraordinary love

Hey you!

Yes, I'm talking to you.

I have a bone to pick with you.

I don't like this. Not at all. Not one little bit.

This feeling of restlessness, of some vague unbalance.
Of something gone missing, or a tad out of place
Of looking around for the familiar - and finding the unwanted
Of waking up to forgetfulness, and the rising consciousness of reality
Of the expectation of laughter and calm - replaced by a jaded perspective
Of trying to figure out who I am - and coming across scattered pieces

This is not me. Or who I want to be. At all.

I need you to fix this. You are the only one can. The only one who can put these pieces of me back together.

You are the only one who knows how they fit.

After all, you are the one who shattered them with such careful consideration.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Borrowing words...

Heard this song today. And now I can't stop listening to it...

You Are Mine

Everyone has their obsession
Consuming thoughts, consuming time
They hold high their prized possession
That defines the meaning of their lives

You are mine

There are objects of affection
That can mesmerize the soul
There is always one addiction
That just can not be controlled

You are mine

Everyone has their obsession
Consuming thoughts, consuming time
They hold high their prized possession
They hold high their prized possession

You are mine

Thursday, February 4, 2016

The doors are now closing...

I think I'll go mad. Thinking about things. Trying not to think about them. Trying to live...actually just trying to breathe...
I find myself short of breath so often. Screaming inside my head. Smiling, laughing, socializing. And just utterly, completely alone. Not isolated, just alone.

So intensely scared. That life will go by just the way it is. And I won't have the guts to change it. Or the strength to bear the consequences if I do change it.
So desperately sad. That I'm perhaps irretrievably losing a few things, the only things most precious to me. And I don't see a way out. Every time I try I split into two. One side goes into denial of the downward spiral. The other is in auto pilot, pretending life is just as she planned it.
Wait, that's just denial again right?

So much so for thinking I was an independent, strong woman. There I go, falling to age-old tricks played by life. And being nothing but a coward burying into my comfort zone. Which is not so comfortable anymore. It's become my biggest compromise.

My days are stifling. My days are frozen in time. Yet I'm overwhelmed by it's pace. I'm still there...and everything else is whizzing by. Or maybe I'm going too fast and everything else is getting left behind. Leaving me behind. And I can't get on the roller-coaster. And I can't get off.

The frantic need to take a decision. Because I'll bitterly regret it if I don't. But I don't know what that decision should be. And will I regret the decision itself?

All I know is...this can't be it. Can it? I don't know if I can bear it then.
See what I mean by going mad.

Monday, November 30, 2015

I am suffering from a Benjamin Button like EQ syndrome. In the past few years, I've been feeling and doing things that are fine when you are 19, or even 25. But downright stupid at my age.

And I tried to stem the downward spin, I did. But it's difficult when stupid makes you so happy. I guess I should have remembered that it's even more difficult when you get the inevitable wake-up call.

After all, only the very lucky are able to stay on in Fools' Paradise forever - the rest are just shown glimpses. And I've never really been lucky. In anything.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Full Circle

You're humming some random tune
Making yourself your morning cup of coffee
And suddenly that tune messes with your memories - and your head
And the coffee turns cold, sitting forgotten on your desk

A weekend spent surfing channels. Endless, mindless sitcoms.
Laughing at a silly joke you sink into the couch
And then you remember a talk you had in that very place
And the mindlessness becomes a welcome relief...

A perfectly normal conversation at work
On mundane, boring, every day things
When out of the blue, that voice over the phone
That intonation, certain pronunciations - reminds you of someone else

And the yearning hits you - like a fist to your solar plexus
And you can't respond to the questions coming over the line. You are short of breath.

They say time heals all wounds...
...Except those it doesn't