Nostalgia.

Nostalgia is a bitch they say. I never understood what that meant until we stopped being who we were and became who we are right now. We are still us, the same people alright. But it doesn’t feel like the times are the same, obviously because things changed. But what things? Because I don’t remember there ever being a ‘thing’. Well, not anything that we acknowledged of course. You know what’s weird though, that nostalgia hits every single night, every damn sundown. And yeah, it does hurt like a bitch.

Remember the little game the PE teacher made us play back in school where we had to take a step forward for every ‘Yes’ to his questions? Yeah, I think that was our game. The only difference being that we weren’t in the same line like back in the day, we were at opposite ends of the court. We asked the questions, we answered the questions and we took the steps too. I guess I just didn’t realise the moment when I stopped asking them and just stayed in the game for you, but apparently you played by the rules only skipping the one that said you couldn’t skip mine.

Of course I do not understand, I never do to be honest. It’s funny, it doesn’t even make me mad anymore. I wasn’t even surprised when I realised I was halfway past the court by the time I saw that I had no audience, not even you. The game had ended, just like that, broken rules and well not broken but a slightly dented heart. So what are the rules now? Because I never made them, I only played to your tune. I told you I do not like games, half because I do not understand them and the other obvious half being that I somehow always lose.

I remember watching the sun go down together, swaying legs and beating hearts, we were never great talkers. Contrary to Harry’s beliefs, comfortable silence is so not over-rated. I liked the quiet with you, I liked that you just held my hand and didn’t kiss me when the sun went down. Kisses really weren’t our thing either, we were weird that way. Kindred spirits I called us, because we definitely weren’t soulmates. You didn’t understand my words, you said they weren’t made for you but you know what you said after though? You said you only listened to them because maybe I was made for you. You fucking bastard, always with the charm.

I’m still smiling writing this, I’m not mad and that kind of makes me mad if it makes any sense. I thought you meant something to me, that I owed you that sense of  togetherness. But turns out that I couldn’t have been more mistaken, you were okay on your own. You weren’t going to be my next charity case, and I definitely didn’t need one since I wished I could be someone’s myself. Even the thought of you makes me restless, only because I thought I’d let myself go again. I’m so glad I stayed sane, and I’m so glad you were way above my usual crazy dominoes. I call them dominoes because they always end up face down, never disappoint – not once.

I don’t think it’s you that I miss, I think it’s the way it felt to have what we had. I don’t know how it feels to you, specially with changed priorities but I feel a sense of emptiness. There is a space. Don’t get me wrong though, it isn’t uncomfortable or anything, it’s just very noticeable. My brain isn’t empty at the end of the day anymore, so many thoughts, so many many words. It’s hard to fall asleep knowing that you wouldn’t hold me for the same reasons, even if you did it would probably be because you were just too scared of a cold bed. It feels weird knowing that I’m probably not the last person you talk to anymore, definitely not the first person for sure.

You told me you had never been happier, I told you that it scared the hell out of me. You told me that you needed this, I told you that all I wanted to do was run away. You told me that I felt like home, I told you that it felt like a fucking storm. The day you knocked on my door at 3am, asking me if everything was alright; I swear to God I felt everything come crashing down. The irony of it all, our god-damned hearts. I hate your flannel shirts, I hate your stupid blue beads and I hate your stupid hugs that I never could resist. And you know what else I hate? I hate how you made me feel.

I let you in right at the time that you walked me out, I didn’t know and neither did you. I guess I lost my charm the day I held your hand before you held mine, you see, that was so not me and obviously you noticed. I watched you from across the table, smiling and talking just the same but your eyes wandered. It wasn’t other girls that caught your eye, it was just another life; a different future. You didn’t ask me if I’d written anything in my book anymore, you didn’t even tell me if you wrote anything in yours. I didn’t need to tell you the words that heartened me that day or the next or another, because I knew you didn’t care.

I’m not saying that you didn’t care about me anymore, because of course you did and you showed it too. You just didn’t care about us, the idea of us that you had planted yourself. You made extra effort, you brought home cake every Thursday, you tried almost too hard. The fact that even now I can’t just write a sentence and be done with it without going into an elaborate explanation just so you don’t misunderstand says a lot I think. We were never meant to be, just two lonely souls clinging to one another till the phase passed. It’s unfortunate though that yours passed sooner, and I’m still here trying to grab onto whatever little of it is left.

But you know what the hardest part of it all is? That it was all for nothing. My days are the same, actually better but the nights are just a little too long. You’re being so brave and pushing away, and you’re doing such a great job at it that’s it’s almost impossibly perfect. It’s not my Skype that rings when something is going on anymore, it’s just the door to your room that closes behind you. I still need to talk to you though, you don’t realize that and even if you do – you turn away. I don’t need you to be my wall, I need you to just let me be your shadow. I don’t need your cuddles anymore, because I sleep in your empty shirts these days.

You’ve let us slip too far, I let you do it but only after I tried clinging onto your shirt every damn night. But now I don’t feel the connection anymore either, honestly I’m starting to doubt if we ever even had one. Maybe all we had were your empty words, the castles you built in the air, making me its delusional princess. I am not going to give you peace by denying the hurt, I am not going to be a liar just because you thought it was okay to be one. I’m just going to let you go, just as easily as I let you in. That’s always been your specialty with me, hasn’t it? You get what you want, a little too easily. The room is empty once more, my bags are packed and unfortunately enough, so is my little heart.

Those Stars.

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

The little sparkling lights – light years away.

Against the thick black of the outer space,

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

 

As I extend my arms, hands reaching,

Trying to imagine what it’d feel like.

Putting aside all the science and theories,

If stars just felt like what the books described.

 

Tracing patterns, one twinkle to another,

Not just constellations but my very own mind.

Look between them, what seems like void,

Is endless, infinite, mysterious and oh so divine.

 

The night sky, the only constant, my constant respite,

Respite from you, from her, from air itself.

Breathing stardust, teasing glitter trails,

Making magic, all the while just laying there.

 

Lay by me, I’ll tell you stories; stories the stars told me themselves.

Hold my hand, I’ll pass you memories; memories I drew out of thin air.

Written in the darkness, colours picked straight out of galaxies,

Drawn blindfolded, just feelings of moments that will never be again.

 

What is beauty? You’ve held her before.

Kissed another? You’ve touched a lot more.

Look beyond, a mortal body but a miracle soul,

Look beyond, look past, look far away – eyes closed.

 

Do you want to fall in love with true beauty?

Beauty of the mind, like what your heart shows.

Or do you want to fall in like with the other kind?

The kind that doesn’t speak to you like the stars shone.

 

Little shimmery specks, blazing balls of fire and what not.

Yet so pretty, so fragile; like you could blow them away like a birthday light.

It’s like nature’s poetry, strung together with strings unseen,

When light can make music, that’s how the sky came to be.

 

Do you think they wish upon us like we do at their passage?

How many wishes could they possibly make, trying to keep up with our every fall?

If you listen close, you can hear them whispering secrets,

Secrets you can only decipher if your promises mean forevermore.

 

But alas, I feel like the last of the kind.

You right here, but yet your mind wanders.

It’s a gift they say, to be able to feel the universe within you.

A bigger gift, to be able to find words to put it into.

 

Do you see those stars? Yeah, those right there.

Of course, you see them, of course you see.

But what’s beyond and between, that’s only for me to keep.

Come lay by me, hold my hand, eyes closed – stay still baby.

Ball Rooms.

Six inch heels, high slits, red lips and champagne in hand – I stare out at the obnoxious luxury strewn all across the ballroom so vast. 

Everyone decked up in their best and at their finest, like an exhibition of absurdity, being seen – the only demand.

Glittering chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling, shimmering dresses cascading down perfectly etched curves of every woman’s body.

The heavy elegant drapes on the high windows, the crisp cuts and button ups on the men with their chin up high and engaged in big words.

I fit in here, my world, I don’t feel the slightest unfamiliarity. My impeccable style on display, my engaging eyes and my indifference to stares just in place.

The invisible bubble that kept everyone at bay, always pulled up, they could look all they want but could never step into my playing field.

It wasn’t a conscious choice, nor was it completely out of character of me. I was known to be aloof, probably part of the appeal.

I liked the distance, the liberty, the mystery that came with a life not shared but yet overbearingly noticeable to say the least.

I look down at my hands, noticing light smudges of ink from an afternoon spent writing out in the meadow complete with the best bitter brew.

So many characters to be watched, even better than the ones I caught out the window from my usual corner at the town’s coffee house.

Even the most uninspiring of people inspiring my best work, the ones with instant charisma eventually floundering into anonymity.

My secret life on paper never rivalling the one I lived every time I closed the pages and put my pen away, each as dear to me as the other.

Too many people had stepped in, many pushed away and some pulled out. I was just too much to stand up to for anyone with a sense of self.

Why settle for mere spectators or men with egos that demanded constant feeding? Why cater to lives lived behind lit screens, words spewed with no actual integrity?

A woman of such influence, a rarity but not the last of her kind. My time and attention valued at a lot more than the societal subtleties for sure.

I might lace your body with words, trace your thoughts in poetry but know for sure, it’ll only be a wager against the substance you aspire to offer.

I like being someone’s tragedy, suits me better than having one of my own. No one survives my fleeting thoughts, specially not the ones that don’t strive to hold my gaze.

Narcissism you call it? I call it human nature. When you find a precious ruby in a pile of blood soaked rags, would you just leave it behind for someone else to find?

The one who chooses to unsee the wealth lying in a gory mess just because the shine is brighter than his own – I call him a fool and nothing more.

I let people walk away, I say my goodbyes with written words. I hold the sole keys to both my body and my mind, the only gatekeeper forever and beyond.

I sip the bubbles and smile at the scripts being lived out all around, knowing that I’m atleast not living mine blindfolded like the rest.

A selfish act each time I step into such grandeur, silently measuring time and reassuring myself of the lack of my own ignominy.

Realisations dwell in such places, places that remind me of my own ideals and perspectives that are worth striving against, every second an experience and every sight an opinion.

Consider it my drug of choice, my drug of addiction but not a drug that I can’t fight against. Everything is a choice I can make and I make this mine every chance I get.

People and words, words and people – twirling and entangling into one another. The beauty, the intrigue and a source of epiphanies rivalled by none other.

The Epiphany.

Do you know that feeling of Epiphany when you just know that you’ve been alright for awhile now but were too okay to realise it?

Exact same words sent on the office communicator to the best friend, right after it hit me. I had been playing Ed Sheeran’s ‘Photograph’ on loop for almost an hour by then. I caught myself smiling for no particular reason – ‘Long time no see’ kind of a thing recently! I had been needing reasons to be happy, reasons to go out, reasons to crib about life, reasons to talk to people, reasons to avoid some – a whole lot of reasons for a whole lot of things! *sigh* But, it was all alright. Nothing amazing, just calm & okay. 😀

Another conversation with another friend, who writes too, happened today. I asked her if she had written anything new & she said she had been uninspired lately, just a few sentences here & there. We got talking and I confessed to her ( & to you now! :mrgreen:) that I have had an anonymous blog for almost 5 months now where I write about everything that is wrong with my life & just rant about it, writing about feelings & things that I wish were better. Funnily enough, that blog has a 600+ following! People feed off of all the turmoil that other people are going through, maybe because it proves it to them that they aren’t the only ones. But I have run out of material for that blog now! & the blog that I have material for is going nowhere! I find that incredibly funny! 😁

It almost feels like we need tragedy to survive on, to feel connected to someone else. Now that I think about it, you probably bonded with the closest of your friends over something sad. People seem to be less interested in you if you’re generically ‘okay’. You should either be ADHD-level happy or a total train-wreck, nowhere in between is acceptable because that makes you boring. Trust me on that, I have been at both ends and the in-between!

Talking about the ‘Epiphany’ part – no skipping mushy songs, no changing passwords, no lone times, always have plans, too many people to talk to, options wide open! 😉 Life is great & isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? I’m writing, playing my guitar, got my sketchbook out, slaying dubsmash, tennis practice, getting better at bowling, seeing places, making heads turn – doing what I should have been doing all along. And today was the day I realised I was out of the routine daze! *mental hurray* We kind of romanticize sadness – that is not the only feeling you know, but somehow that appeals to people. You set a certain ‘ideal’ behaviour after an event in your head & act it out consciously. You set ‘ideal’ personality traits & act them out. You expect ‘ideal’ interactions with people and all this just complicates the fish out of your life! There are no ‘ideals’, there are just ‘things’ & ‘people’.

It’s okay if you aren’t popular enough, don’t have to be successful at everything you get your hands into, don’t have to make everything work, don’t have to be amazingly awesome – just being okay has a kind of a charm to it. It shows when you’re around people & sometimes it’s just bloody attractive to be comfortable in your own skin. It’s bloody attractive to be vaguely sorted, have clarity in a dazed way, to be comfortable with lone time with just yourself. Because this is when ‘You’ are okay with yourself, other people are left with no other choice than to be okay wit you as well.

I have noticed that it shows in the way people around you react to you, there is a level of comfort when they interact with you. No more stepping-on-glass conversations or handle-with-care treatment and the friendship just becomes more easy and breathable. & Voila! Everyone is happy! Moreover, a lot of people you meet or things you do when you’re anywhere between 16-22 are temporary. I have learnt to breathe easy. 22 isn’t such a big number you know, there is a whole lot of time! & time, amigos, is everything! A whole lot of Ed Sheeran & Taylor Swift & John Meyer
to listen to without cringing and an entire world to walk the length of with ‘Imagine Dragons’ in your ear.

So, be okay. That is all there is. You’re going to pull through anyway, just make sure to do it in style 😉

Meanwhile,
I am gonna write-write-write-write-write it all, just write it all! *obsessing over the supernatural parody of shake it off*

P. S. This post kind of has the feel of a ‘Letter to Self’ but WTH, publish it anyway! 😜

Four Words.

“What was I thinking?”,
the only four words that resonated each time.
Each time she caught her own reflection,
“That can’t be right!”
Four words again, different yet the same.

Picking up the pieces, stringing all the pearls.
Washing off the mulch, untangling all her curls.
She had watched him walk away, never looking back.
Saying time and again, “I know you’ll be alright.”

She wasn’t looking for a fire, not even a spark.
He had raged a forest blaze, thick smoke & burning bark.
Unleashing demons, engulfing her in a daze,
She hadn’t seen any of this before, she just stood staring with those big brown eyes,
She was in awe, she was amazed.

Just like fireworks, she burnt all bright and pretty,
Little did she know that in the end, she would be nothing but mere ashes – just petty.
She had been just a muse, fulfilling his selfish eccentricities,
Just another one of his beautiful little poems, just another.. Just another!

How the pain seared right through her heart!
Each time she heard those words!
“Just another!”
She didn’t want to block it out though,
She wanted it to hurt, a reminder of a soulless raptor.
She laughed hysterically at the very same words,
Because,
He was also only ‘Just another!’

She had seen them before, she knew she would see them again,
He was a master of his trade, nothing mattered to him, no pain nor gain.
It was just a fetish of his, a greedy choice or maybe just a whim.
She was left with scars that would never heal,
The very same that added character to the woman she was yet to begin.

No more sunshine, sparkles and rainbows,
Years added to her personality, years taken away from her faith.
No more a girl, prancing around to show tunes, harbouring silly notions about love,
A woman who chose her music well, just soul and nothing more.

“I’ll walk away too, no emotions or regrets”, she told herself,
Each step she took, just to look back,
At the little notes, tucked away in a watch box, lying on the shelf.

“What was I thinking?”,
the only four words that resonated each time.
Four words again, different yet the same.