Posts Tagged ‘heart’

The perpendicular universe broken

We are the broken people. The fallen souls. The shattered hearts. The twisted, constricted echoes of a hollow body. We don’t make a sound. We croon. We weep. We are always crying, fading away gradually from the inside. Our angst nibbles us every moment. It grazes us quietly as if we are its pasture.

Our shrieks go unheard. Silent muffled screams that don’t make it to fruition. Like mumbles they wither away into eternity. We bear tears. Like clouds hold an imminent downpour. They are always hanging there. Surmounted by our feigned ego and false strength.

It is hard to figure us out. You wouldn’t know it is us. You wouldn’t be able to put a pin to our emotions. We trudge the earth like dinosaurs waiting for the dreadful meteor. Maybe eyeing that impending doom and waiting for it to swallow us. We wish death. We seek it in every little thing we do. We prefer living on the edge.

We breathe in shadows. An abyss so dark and void of hope, we enjoy its presence around us. We love the way it engulfs us. We rejoice its gnawing. We wish to be eaten away. Pain has no meaning for us. Because we are written in it. We relate to the fallen. There is beauty only we can perceive in it. The trampled leaves and crumpled grass appeal to us. The chewed up and spit out souls rivet us.

We aren’t afraid of the dark. We love to feel its claws on us, its punishing jaws that make a silent promise to tear us apart. Blood is a gift. Every smear is an orgasmic pleasure. We are penned in gore, and seek it in every act.

There is no path for us. Because to be honest, there is none. We know it is all in our head. We know everything will boil down to naught. No matter what you do. No matter where you go. We are aware, we will stay, right here.

We don masks. Masks of a fake smile, of a lying head that you can never see through. Every jovial act is ephemeral. Your laugh is evanescent. To us it is just a moment that shalt pass. Long lasting is our woe. It will remain. Perennial!

We prefer the silence. Because it speaks. Bazillion words, if not for your ears, then for our heads.

We are omnipresent. We walk amongst you. Unseen. Unnoticed. Uncared. Yet we don’t worry. Because we know, nothing matters, and nothing ever will.

We are the broken people.

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My words are precious. I don’t wish to waste my words on someone I am willing to forget.

That being said, I wouldn’t bring people who don’t matter to me into the picture ever. (Like I ever did……wait, what? I would do that subtly many times but I wouldn’t pin point them, right? right?)

I would love to do an introspection every now and then. It would help me realize what changes I went through over a span. Today when I peruse myself carefully, I am stupefied to find out the result. I am a changed man. I have changed horribly, to the extent that I don’t recognize myself anymore.

Few days ago, I was blunt, carefree and awesome. Now I hate myself. People hate me for what I have become and it is all justified. I wish I could change that. I have been roped into an image I used to abominate.

I had self-respect. Now I have none. Nowadays I take it. Earlier I had this ‘Fuck-the-World’ attitude. Now I have become less reckless. I have started caring for people more. I don’t want that though. It binds me in a cuff and smothers me every minute.

Sometimes people do that to you. Sometimes circumstances. My case isn’t the latter. I have been manipulated by my brain gazillions of times. My heart supplements that bastard. I comply like a robot even if there is one percent chance of a happy ending. I relate to Ted Mosby, of How I Met your Mother, a lot in that department. In the process, I have hurt myself a thousand times.

I would always end up trying to satiate my heart. I am so delicate in that area. It seems I have a hole there, waiting to be filled by a serum only my other half retains. The pain is so acute, that it makes me desperate for the real ‘her’. In acts of desperation, I end up making formidable moves and taking wrong decisions.

The reason I allow myself to be manipulated is exactly what this maxim paints – “Things you do for love“. Then again, I realize, and I am well aware of, my reluctance to hurt a living thing. I could be blunt, arrogant and carefree once again. But the question is, at what cost?

I appreciate things around me. I concentrate on the good. I overlook patches. This helps me perceive beauty in everything. I would rather be happy with a glass half full than waste my time sulking about its emptiness. The precise reason why I fall in love with good qualities and overlook bitterness. But unfortunately people take my love as my weakness and exploit me like a slave, whilst I obey considering them my masters. Upsetting them would mean losing them. I don’t like that. I wouldn’t want that. But if I don’t, then I wouldn’t be free.

I have to take a stand now. I have to take chances. I have to trust my guts and do what is best for me. For once, I have to be selfish. If I don’t, I would be taken for granted.

I have downgraded myself so much today that I have to look up from this pit, I am in. I wish, for once I shut down my emotional warehouse and take flat decisions. Decisions that are going to hurt people, and me of course, yet effective enough to save lives in the process.

I am way over my past. I am glad about that. Yet I haven’t forgotten her completely. I wouldn’t want her to fade ever. I am well aware that we are together somewhere in a parallel universe. That feeling is beautiful. Those special moments we spent together in this life, I lived all of ‘that’, just like she did, and I am a proud owner of my memories. No one can change that. Not even you, my readers! Your trial would be my denial.

Some might say, I am in love with the idea of love as Karen, Hank Moody’s wife in Californication quoted. Even I would feel helpless explaining that, just like Hank felt, to a person who doesn’t comprehend love at all. I am glad I have been blessed with the ability to sense, feel and love. It escalates me to a level, safe and sound, and of course, well above the ’emotionless’.

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Okay so I puked. For like real.

We went to an amusement park. Truth: I wasn’t amused. Others were. I really don’t understand how easily I give in. I regret it, ‘after’ doing it.

I am not into joy rides. I am not made for that. Not my department. All I remember doing that day, was screaming, at the top of my voice, like a girl. In my defense I would say, I faced it all like a brave man, only with frequent screams of horror.

I would always say no to begin with, and end up doing it just to give company to my little sisters. I didn’t want to disappoint them so I ended up disappointing myself instead. Boy it was all horror, staring back at me and he was like, “Yeah I was waiting for you. I’ll spoil your guts now. You shouldn’t have had breakfast dumbass. I’ll show you who the real boss is.” Meanwhile, I was like, “Mommmmmmmmmy!”

My brother kept telling me to try the boat. My sisters insisted. With constant blathering going on in the background, I involuntarily created an image of a real boat with oars and some water beneath to row on.

My inquisitiveness was duped big time, when I discovered it was a dragon-boat swinging like a pendulum, staring back at me. Images from the past started haunting me. I remembered that thing. I had been a passenger once, in that creature before. It didn’t end well. Then again, I was a kid then.

Anyways, with dilated eyes, I started reckoning my other options. However, I wish I shouldn’t have manifested any ventures.

This could’ve been the scenario:

I looked back at all the rides. They all were fallen. Vanquished. One of the roller coaster rides didn’t even stand a chance. It never saw me coming. I had lanced it before it picked its sword. Those toy cars had never met such a rash driver. They had never been drifted like that before. Some of the rides were puny enough for my minions to handle. I didn’t even look at them. They were dead already.

I beheld the dragon once again. This is the last one, I thought. “I can’t go home without taming YOU bitch. I have come too far to return. I am away from home. I don’t know if there would be any return. The battle might turn fiery and deadly. I wouldn’t abscond. I wouldn’t leave without slaying you.” I thought, “What the hell?”

I rode the dragon with all my might. The pressure was immense. All hell broke loose. Fire was everywhere. The last one is always the toughest, so I thought. I got bruised. The dragon fire blazed my neck. But my heart was still pumping. Adrenaline gushing. I was waiting for the right moment. Exhaustion engulfed the beast slowly. Eventually the dragon subdued. It was then when I struck like lightning and tore the creature open.

Interesting, huh? Too good to be true.

Here’s the non-fiction version:

One of the roller coaster rides had no attendees so we skipped it. (This explains the ‘never-saw-me-coming’ part :P) The car ride was okay. Nothing real. Some rides were so scary that I screamed at the mere sight of them. So I decided not to make a fool out of myself. I let my brother and sisters ride them instead (my minions). I was ‘compelled’ to sit in that demonic boat. My sisters literally pulled me into the heart of the dragon. I kept my eyes closed all the time. Opened my orbs once, when instigated. My head started spinning. As the boat was about to stop, I puked like a mad man. Not on people (Just relax!). The burning sensation in my neck lasted for hours. So it wasn’t a happy ending exactly.

Yeah! I am a wimp.

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I ended up working late in the office yesterday. Actually, it was planned. With a consensus between me and my project lead, it was decided that I would pump in some extra hours in order to complete a pending job. Yeah, work I did. But I didn’t foresee that I would be all alone.

It was the first time I was all by myself in the office and that too after the sunset. I worked till 8 PM, additional 2 hours, from my usual time of leaving. The peon had switched off the lights, those not required, and so the rest of the cubicles went pitch dark. I hardly cared as I was busy with my work. I had constantly been glaring at the screen, which was unrelenting too. My orbs would hurt. I was feeling the way I used to, when I would sometimes succumb to insomnia. I badly needed a shuteye. I would occasionally get up from my seat, and peek from the window, down at the traffic. The hustle and bustle below kept me company the whole time.

Whenever I would come back to my seat and engage myself in useful work, I would hear the ticking of the clock, occasional honks of the cars below, din of a drilling machine coming from the building next to ours and sometimes loud shrill of something, which my mind would always confuse with heavy breathing. It was spooky. I know it is hard to work in such an environment. It was eerie. Yet there was nothing that really bothered me as such. I guess, time has made me brave, unconcerned and intelligent.

Yet in the back of my mind, all those scenes from the flick ‘The Grudge‘ kept visiting my head. Yeah, remember that office bit? I would occasionally turn around to check the plant which stood in the dark, that had a bizarre resemblance to a human being, when looked from a particular angle. I would tilt my chair occasionally to have a good look at the door in order to eschew any out of the blue surprises. Even if someone tried to play a prank at such an hour, it was still not good for the heart, so I thought.

Amongst all that non-existent commotion, I worked my way through, without getting consciously alarmed of anything mentioned above, and groped for the switch in the dark to turn off the remaining lights.

At this point, I remembered, how as a kid I used to be strangely conscious of everything around me. I would startle at every movement or noise. I wouldn’t go to sleep for hours, wondering if a monster would come up from under my bed and devour me. I would endeavor my best to avoid watching horror shows on TV, so as to shun any formidable memories later at night. There used to be a spot at my balcony, where I would always study unaffected and unaware of my surroundings on a regular basis. I believed it helped me to understand things better, with the view and all. Until one day I saw a horror show on TV. From that point onwards, I wouldn’t even go to my balcony, wondering, “What if a hand comes from behind and grabs me?”

I am glad now sense has slipped in. I ‘now’ desire for miracles. I want them to happen. So that I behold the unusual.

I don’t understand if fear is good or bad. The only thing I get is that, it is there. It has always been there. It is real. Just in different forms, in all of those eras we lived. We have simply named them. Human minds are built this way. We can’t help being apprehensive. We can’t help being afraid of the extraordinary.

We would always be afraid. Sometimes for a reason, sometimes without one. It is one of the harsh truths of life, which I surmise, keeps us in check, all the time.