You go through life hoping you will meet someone, somewhere will understand what you're all about. You go through life knowing no one ever will. And you come to terms with it - slowly but surely.

And then someone comes along and messes it all up. Could be that cute boy, the not so cute stalker or your best-est gal pal. That person finishes your sentences, speaks your mind, doesn't judge, asks...and more importantly, listens! And you think you are one of the lucky few who has met The One!

You are so kicked with this new found camaraderie that you break all your rules, bring down your well-honed defence system, confide all your insecurities and reveal the inner workings of your deranged, whacky, rebellious mind. What you are actually doing...is handing them a lot of ammo...on a silver platter.

You think you have found a shoulder to cry on, arms that hug you and hands that hold you. But pretty soon you discover that those well-toned arms have got their strength from all the back-stabbing they've done. You've let them in...and now they leave without so much as a 'goodbye'. The person doesn't speak your mind anymore. They speak theirs. They don't judge - they condemn. Without a hearing.

The One sells you out! And they don't need 30 pieces of silver to do it. They just need a well-honed knife.

Which they sharpen.

Then stab.

Then twist.

...and walk away.

This sucks. This really really sucks.

I feel like someone is pulling me apart. Limb by limb.

To be fair, the dismembering started same time last year. So by now you would have thought I'd be numb to the pain. But I have never been good with change. With letting thnigs go. With saying goodbye.

To be fair, I was prepared for this. Have been for a couple of months. But today, when I heard them mouth the necessary platitudes, I felt like just giving in to the hurt - and giving up. No more stiff upper lip. No more cracking jokes so that others will cheer up. Just having someone else hug me and say..."It's ok"

I won't just be saying goodbye to some friends - coz I will keep them in my life. I won't be saying goodbye to just a place - though it will hurt endlessly to see strangers taking over a place I once considered my second home. But what I will be saying goodbye to is a bunch of my best memories, the associations that go with a place.

Sometimes, when you walk by a place - you think of the conversations you have had there, the jokes you cracked, the confidences you shared, the secrets you revealed, the unexpected relationships you forged. Sometimes, that all important slice of life you cling to is nothing but some endless cups of tea you had shared with a friend, standing on the terrace, staring off into the distance.

You can deal with changes. Coz that's the future. And you can learn to fight the future.

But how do you fight the past? When you don't have the real thing, and the memories are all you have - how do you deal with those being taken away. One moment, one person, one place at a time?

If I were to be truly loved...

I would like to be turned into poetry

With cadence, lyricism, a lilt

A poetry the burns the soul, fires up your passion

That leaves you gasping for breath

If you try to read it out loud

That makes you think

“Oh! This is exactly what I feel..”

I would like to be turned into a fairy tale

Where I'll take the proffered poisoned apple

And confidently wait for a happy ending.,

that leaves you smiling

at its childish naivete

That makes you say

There is a silver lining in everything

I would like to be turned into a love letter

An outpouring of the unreasonable heart, holding nothing back

That is silly, immature but true to feelings

That reminds you of the ebb and flow of those first moments

That you secretly preserve - to read over and over again

That makes you wish

That you were the thought behind those words

I would like to be turned into a symphony

To be played, hummed, experienced

That rises into a crescendo

And you feel your heart erratically beating to its tune

As you close your eyes and surrender to its rhythm

That makes you dance

In some frenzied, endless harmony

I would like to be the graffiti on the wall

The loud, bold lines

The spray of colour, of chaos

That breaks the monotony of a dull city wall

The beautiful side of a rebellion

That makes your fingers itch

To leave your mark on the world

But I haven’t found a writer who can read between the lines

Take my garbled jumbled self

And make sense out of my words

I haven’t found someone who can make music

Who can take the jarring sounds in my head

And put it in order – a melody

So I remain

Just a cacophony of unsaid words

Unexpressed desires

A staid, stoic prose with a predictable ending

That will burn itself out

And the page will be turned...