Posts Tagged ‘love’

image of a bald guy talking to a girl

The Bald Guy

Probably why a lot of things stay hallowed in my head is, I guess, because my world still lingers around a lot of undone things. Unsaid words. Unaccomplished possibilities. Gargantuan morsels of hope that ended up getting swallowed by despair. Menial trivial things that could have created a memory, could never make it. Like the time she had wished to stroke my hair. The fact that it never happened left a hole in my dimension. It ended up becoming a skipped fragment that could never possibly attain fruition.

Other petty notions of our talks that could have avalanched into a nervous wreck stay disbanded in space. Broken threads they are, suffering in their own mute misery. No knots find them. They sway like torn dreams. A bazillion “could-haves”, those hidden somewhere betwixt our silent whispers, could never make it. That makes me sad. That shattering incomplete feeling is a consequence of all such figments.

I wasn’t fortunate enough to even have my day. One day! That could have flung us towards unrivalled elation. Not even a seamless graze on a cheek to test those walls of love. Not even melting away in each other’s arms. Not even a hug of tingling warmth, to say so long. Nothing to justify. Nothing to prove all those words of mettle that once echoed to and fro between the media of mundane. Words they ended up being. Spoken and forgotten. Like crude promises. They fell dead like a pang of wretch. Shot down mid-air by a bullet of fate.

We could never even make it to the finish line. All those dreams just kind of fluttered away in time. Lost. Never to be found.

I just feel all of it at once sometimes, and then sometimes never. Hard to explain. Maybe I am all alone in this dead vale. Meant to feel that way. Maybe truth deserves me more than ever, as it sneaks through to speak through from beyond, beyond the holes of my past.

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The Perpendicular Universe The missing piece

I miss everything about you. All it takes is one glimpse, and I melt away like a candle. I can distinctly hear that silent noise of defeat as my heart’s warmth eats me up. I can put a finger to that feeling, I surmise – despair blended profusely with a lot of missing.

I imagine touching your hand, taking your arm, feeling the softness of it within my fingers, whilst your crystal clear contour shyly peeks at me, asking me to stop. My mishap made me not get enough of you, which I would have willingly succumbed to, had you steered my way. It leaves me with these fanciful whims that always fling me towards pits of emptiness.

I have questions I seek answers to. Just a mere mention of you fills my head with thoughts. Does that happen to you too? Did your moving on ever come closer to the hell I lived every second of my life? Do you often feel that void in your life too? Most important one of all, “Do you miss me?” Or is it all just me? The fool who thought he was in love. The lone warrior who keeps fighting battles with his own subconscious.

Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. I have wrapped myself up in this plight of mine, my very own coat of pain that has girdles of barbwire percolating through me. I stand bewildered, watching as it grows in on me. Sometimes I wish it undone, and give in to what life has failed to give.

You are the future I never had. You are the chance I could never take. I miss and miss, and you fade and fade. That’s how we are meant to be. This is what we are meant to be, until a day comes when I wake up in tears and forget your face.

The Perpendicular Universe unfinished

Been a while, I haven’t penned anything on these leaves. I have been lost in the humdrum of the mundane. A job that sucks me in, and eats away my precious hours. Takes me away from the world of writing. But these special leaflets are always there. In the backdrop of my head. Silently calling me. Making me feel the void. Trying to make its presence felt. Then life manages to put me in front of the screen somehow, as if the croons of this blog get heard.

I wish to press these leaves with only the best. Maybe that’s what takes a lot of time. To only fill the easel with quality work. My brother had asked me to keep it as a wont, when I am in the right zone. To him it is one of my best collections hitherto, a magnum opus weaved with a keen wisdom. I intend to keep it that way. It lets me unspool myself, the real me, into validation. An introspection of sorts that might reflect the real me to a reader if there is one at all.

Today, I am squeezed into work so much that this blog stays hidden from me. I distribute myself to others, so much that I forget my own identity. But this right here, this, lets me appreciate myself. When I take a step back to look at it, I realize it is nothing but my mirror. It lets me behold the real me. It lets me fathom myself more. Words smeared on these blanks tell me that I am different. It lets me dig deeper into a head of a writer, a poet who is insanely in love with words, with a brain uplifted and a head that reeks of beautiful and sentient thoughts.

What is unfortunate is the fact that he barely has time to cover ‘em all. There is so much beauty yet to read, so many wonderful people yet to encounter, so many experiences yet to experience, so much land yet to cover, so much love yet to shower, so many unknown faces yet to scan, so many enthralling creations yet to marvel at, and there are so many gorgeous thoughts in his skull still embryonic, veiled, that can only unfurl with time. It’s a shame that it’s running out.

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Morpheus: What brings you here my child?

Me: What did I just see?

Morpheus: I just project stuff. What you choose to see is your doing. You should be thanking me for manifesting ‘her’ after so long. Trust me, seeing your heart glow is the best feeling in the world.

Me: Seeing my, what glow? Are you high?

Morpheus: I am not sure how to answer that.

Me: She is buried in the past. Why do you always bring her up? All these years, did I ever think of her? Why do you punish me then?

Morpheus: I am just trying to fill the void. I hate to see that hole. Everything craves for greater expression. Remember?

Me: But I am done thinking about her. Isn’t she like in another dimension or something now?

Morpheus: You have shut yourself out. She exists.

Me: Then I do not wish to know. She is dead to me.

Morpheus: I am sorry to hear that.

Me: Don’t you have others to bother?

Morpheus: I am with others too. I am with those who need me, also with those who don’t. I am engraved in their conscience. I am seeping in their blood. I am jostling in their thoughts. I am persistent. I am perpetual. I will always be there when there is exhaustion. I will be around as long as eyes could carry weight. I will be there when fatigue gets you. I will be smiling when bed finds you.

Me: There you go! Nobody asked for your introduction sucker. Nobody has ‘TIME’ to listen to your BS.

Morpheus: I make it stop. Time. It’s my bitch. I control it like I control your thoughts. I can make a man dream of eternity in a single hour’s sleep. I can show him naught in perpetuity. I am drenched in the blood of thoughts. I rule in the nether world and I will affect even the days, as long as people are slaves to daydreaming.

Me: Tell that to someone who gets intimidated. I like the way I am. In reality and in your fucking dreams. Just leave me be. I love living in the world without her. Without worries. Without apprehensions.

Morpheus: Without true happiness?

Me: You keep doing that. Why do you do that? You are the meanest son of a bitch, I have ever encountered.

Morpheus: I feel sorry that you think about me that way. I am just trying to help.

Me: Help? You call that help? I am alright in reality. I pass on just fine. You come and obliterate everything. Tell me one thing, though. I am curious – why was I happy when she was around, in my dream?

Morpheus: This is again your doing. I do not have control over human emotions.

Me: But you do control projections and memories. Once I go into sleep, I lose control over myself. It is as if I am hanging in space, powerless. You mess with my reality. No wonder they call you a Dreamlord. Why can’t you just show me the good stuff? Couldn’t you leave memories locked up tight in the darkest pit brain has? Or even better, just delete them permanently? Learn something from computers for a change? Huh?

Morpheus: I do not fathom the computer jargon. Bit tacky for my taste.

Me: Oh! Look! You made me laugh.

Morpheus: Memories are perennial. They will exist till the day your heart stops.

Me: My heart stopped the day that final memory read its chapter. So I suggest you don’t turn those leaflets. What is gone is gone. What might or might not come, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I believe in the moment.

Morpheus: Wow! I am definitely using that on a t-shirt.

Me: Fuck you Morpheus!

Morpheus: I shudder at the thought of seeing you void of emotions. I want you brimming with it. You do not think of her anymore. It saddens me. Dreams about her used to bring joy to your life. Her sheer memory used to lighten you up. You would go in a trance and beg me not to stop. The moment I would, you’d wake up all bummed, cursing me silently, with a voice, only I can hear and tears, only I can see. I don’t want that for you.

Me: The fuck do you care? Why don’t you just leave me alone?

Morpheus: I am afraid…..I….I….can’t…do that.

Me: Why the fuck not?

Morpheus: Because I am your figment. I am just ‘YOU’ trying to reason with yourself. I am ‘YOU’ trying to accuse someone, anyone….for that to matter, about your weakness.

I am traumatized when I see you succumb to gloom. I become elated when I see you happy. I am the reflection you have always hated yet silently adored. I am the good guy in disguise. The bad is deliberately written all over me, so that next time you see me, you curse me, scorn me, despise me, abhor me to your guts. You rip me out, tear me apart, cut me up, beat me black and blue, coz I know your temper, yet respect your passion. No matter how much you alienate me from your body, and treat me different, no matter how harsh you treat me, no matter how atrociously you ignore me, you hurt yourself in the process, you vent out all of it on yourself.

‘YOUR’ body bleeds black and blue. ‘YOU’ have a heart that doesn’t beat. ‘YOU’ have a tethered soul. Why, you ask? Because, I am ‘YOU’. I am just you, poor child!

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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I have always toyed with the idea of hell. Our ancestors have nailed it in our brains. We follow what is taught, and conventions, I take unmatched pleasure in breaking.

The first thing that comes to our mind, when we hear the H word, are snakes all around, darkness, silence, ugly creatures, monsters, abyss and what not. (You almost made it devil!) But here I would like to imagine something different. Let hell be just like hell, only a little bit more realistic if not theatrical.

I have had had days, when nothing would go right. I would fall, scratch myself unknowingly, hurt myself mentally, lose my temper every now and then, curse, cuss, break things reluctantly and then sulk for the rest of the day. Au contraire, there have been days when I would feel that I am on top of the world, create, do useful things, do things that would make others happy, me happy, win all games, gain, laugh, love and live.

You see where this is going, right? Yeah!

Whatever things we have ever defined, of which we are afraid of, are actually creations of our fears. They are an outcome of what we should be afraid of. They have confined us from exploring the unexplored. Ghosts would never have existed, if the notion of fear wasn’t there.

We haven’t seen it. It is only in our talks. All events breaking loose could be analogous to how hell could have possibly been in reality. If hell would have existed, it could have entailed series of unfortunate events happening one by one in quick succession, giving no room to sanity. Commotion. Sheer ruckus. That is how I like to keep the old theory breathing.

Nobody wishes to experience their weird imagination. People have just followed their mind’s projections to feel the angst and suffering. They already know it is not good. Why would they ever want to go there? People simply fantasize. Just how a kid does. Daydreaming a deadly fiery battle with a dragon. At least I do. I would always have my hidden blades with me. I would often fight monsters with a Katana. Now that is another story.

To sum it up, I would rather quote that great man, of whom I often speak in high regards. He wrote this about ‘hell’ somewhere:

It is reality. Just messed up with uncertainty and confusion. Just doomed by odd decisions and their aftermath. It is reality, simply stained with negative events. That is how I like to picture it. Because our fantasies are merely our mind’s projections. Hell as they describe it, is just the projection of their fears and my world has no room for it.

Kudos! great man. Yeah, that’s me again. 😛

I’ve seen you so many times now. I am losing track. Your memories are getting stronger. Instead of getting hazy, they are going conspicuous. Very unusual but I’ve forgotten everything bad about you now. Love does that to you, I guess.

Yesterday I had a dream. I am not sure why. But I saw you once again. All this time, I had stopped thinking about you. You would be there, but I would overlook. I would see all those other things in my life that would bring smile to my face. I would try my best to eschew you or any of your thought that would cause a chemical imbalance in my head. But the dream happened, as if happening in a parallel universe in reality. It being a different universe altogether, I am not sure I remember much. But I do remember one thing for sure. It was you.

Here’s what I dreamt: (an excerpt from my personal diary of dreams, Yeah! not real)

I was busy chatting with my friends and having fun, when out of the blue she appeared from mist and stood next to me. Just like Mal in Inception, she appeared like a strong memory. I can still remember her face woeful with miserable written all over it. Strange but I’ve always pictured her that way. I’ve never had a dream wherein I’ve seen her smiling or even happy. She looked really sad. She pointed, “You forgot me na!” and with a pang in my heart I realized within seconds that it was true. For a couple of months I haven’t had a single thought of her. Not a single dream about her. I had finally surmounted my heart until, of course, now. How did she find her way to me? I thought, “I had really forgotten her for a while.” I felt this sudden urge, a strange urge to apologize to her and to set things right again. She started to wither then. Like dreams are meant to be. Unpredictable. I tried calling her. She picked up but she was still adamant, like she was six years ago, in that coffee place. She kept on giving assertions, “You’ve forgotten me. Yes! You have!” I was speechless, once again, choking. I kept saying to her, “Listen to me. Listen to me at least!” and the phone died.

I woke up. I tried to forget what I saw. I carried out my routine, just like any other jaded day. It was only in the afternoon when I saw you once again, your picture on the famous social networking site. Smiling in one of them. Weary in another. The weary one got me strangely attracted. I got this sudden urge to pick you up in my arms, you cuddling towards safety finding your way in my bosom and me saying, “My baby! Come here and get some sleep.”

I couldn’t help but click on your pictures. Something I barred my heart from doing all these years, because I know my heart is weak. It succumbs to you every now and then. I went through all of them. My mind would, meanwhile, talk to me sanely like, “Why are you doing this?” and my heart would confront it, “I don’t care. I am just so human!” My hands were involuntary. They kept on flipping every page. I let go those tears I was never fond of keeping.

Life is a tragedy. No matter how happy you are. I always thought of myself as a happy guy. But these thoughts of you, make me feel otherwise. I get a feeling, that I would never, ever be really happy without you by my side.

You are like a drug to me and I am addicted. Yet you or not dead and I am not really alive.