▪︎ the one-sided love language ▪︎

find myself facing the big screen yet again,
in eager anticipation for the alternate reality to unfold,
with unparallel might, I raise a mindful glass to my perpetual belief –
effort is often presented with some;

oh, and how my predicament begs to differ,
creeps up to me mockingly, an inch everyday
to finesse this awkward but, inevitable juxtaposition
only leaving me to lament
and lament;

the naïve self-critic
of self-thoughts says –
goodness of the heart is an important virtue to have,
the self-nurturer slowly whispers back,
perhaps
the best for everyone else is injuring to self;

~
my world isn’t featured by my ideals,
do more,
but deplete more of your mind
heart
adrenaline
sanity
time
for an anticlimactic,
climatic end.
~
with a sigh,
of nothing,
I switch it off
and find the me in me
slowly drifting away.

People//

Crowds can be so still,

Silent enough for me to focus on the sound of my heart,

falling apart,

bit by bit.

The clutter it holds, doesn’t wipe itself away,

even long after the crowds left~

Crowds intimidate(d) me,

eyes were my focus when it should’ve been the movement,

the pair of legs might’ve been strong enough,

To have led me away from the crowd residing within my heart,

I was told, that places were mere sets without the people they hold,

I try to shift my lens,

don’t focus on the eyes, I reiterate.

I reiterate.

f e e l i n g s on a fictional canvas

Letting go,

Letting go,

Let go,

go.

Letting love go,

letting people go,

let yourself go,

let go,

go,

and piece your mind together to repaint the picture,

because what you see needs restoration;

normal is the beautiful woman in the room and you,

you are the insignificance sipping insanity, hope and dreams.

The world isn’t the beautiful mess you’d think it’ll be

or

will ever be.

This idea of romanticism is like a warp in space and time,

simply theoretical,

mostly paradoxical,

never sensible.

Letting love go,

let it go?

let it stay. or let it breathe,

you cry, you ache, you long, you wheeze,

you shout, you beg, you ask ~ did you?

ask?

But baby were you willing to try,

to try to move past everything you thought was right;

I made mistakes,

and so did he,

I made mistakes after and in between, he?

he was ready to move past, shove it under the rug

Some houses don’t need an address, he said.

(they do) you felt.

at least in your book, but maybe not in your story.

I loved, I slipped but I still love,

I love, I adore, I await, I

let it go,

I?

I let it breathe.

~ but i’ll still be the house on the sidelines,

on the street where we had our long walks,

hoping

that someday we would revisit it together.~

Let yourself go, disappear & appear,

with more love for yourself,

Drift away, let go of your vices, let go of —

black and white,

maybe it’s time for the gray to trickle in.

Letting go of the person you once were,

the person you thought you were,

the person you’d rather be.

Because what you are right now,

and what you will be,

is a sum of scars and confetti

a sum of sand and glitter

a sum of lot of sweet and a bit of bitter,

but darling,

be scarce in focusing on your scars,

look past it and focus on the stars, even if they materialize within your vision a bit too late.

// letting go,

let go

let conformity go, conventional is idealistic you know?

Sometimes I feel that I don’t belong in this world,

when you feel too much, do you also feel equally detached?

from everything you know

from the world you see

when you feel too much,

do you also feel equally detached;

purely unable to walk with their beliefs

I am unable to walk with their beliefs.

//

Ignorance~

Maybe what I don’t know is for the best,

a curious mind is not always a gift,

there is something chaotic about the entropy within, once ignited it’s-

never forgotten, never tamed;

never logical, never sane.

 

Once ignited, I will never be the same.

 

There’s an unusual bliss in being blissfully unaware,

of  my own conscience breathing down my neck,

 

Let it lie there, let it be timid;

the more I try to understand, the more difficult it gets to deal with

my own mind,

 

every conversation unveils a new tangent,

a tangent to the road I don’t want to explore,

So, maybe what I don’t know is for the best,

being self aware is not always a gift.

 

// that often discarded emotion,
emotion that you never said;

you (never) said it out loud, but it rings inside your chest every 1/24th part of the day //

 

An anti-prologue to escape;

This one’s for the ones who play,

play a part which is not theirs per se,

play their hearts like a serious game

of tetris….(or chess),

Play a role from 6am to moonlight,

shadows awakening in the moonlight draw the curtain,

and then revealed is the uncertain (?)

The uncertain speaks volumes but does not repeat itself every night

..or morning

midmorning?

Every tomorrow it’s a new reiteration

it’s a dormant..

a lingering..

a fleeting

who am I?

what was I?

So I tell the uncertain to tread back

back to the role it left outdoors,

this one’s for the ones who play

play a part, which is not theirs per se.

_____________________________________________

Escape the role and I find myself here?

Struck by a kaleidoscope of self-reflective mirrors,

there is hollowness; not depth,

mostly black, not gray

My first response is run away

escape

so is my second, third and forget

Forget then remember then escape

or,

remember then forget then escape,

“You are fearless, 

a rebel,

rebellious for the good”

Am I?

Anyone can be.

Just run.

escape.

leave.

forget.

Escape

Struck by a kaleidoscope

of self reflective mirrors,

there is hollowness; not depth, mostly black, not gray

My first response is run away,

escape

so is my second, third and forget,

forget then remember then escape

or remember then forget then escape;

“you are fearless, a rebel

rebellious for the good”

I am?

Anyone can be. just run.

escape.

leave.

forget.

Me t o o;

Don’t you see? I’m stuck somewhere else

 

My heart needs a physical entity to pull it out of its palpitant state,

But today;

which holds no promises of being my only one,

I will take a deep breath to make it rise back from the depths of my tainted memories,

 

And I will curl my lips into a semi smile,

telling myself and everyone else

that of course it doesn’t bother me now

With a silent prayer that they ignore the tip of my nose that just grew longer.

 

It doesn’t bother me anymore.

It doesn’t bother me

It doesn’t..

 

It does?

 

More than often I tell myself that it IS possible to live with the lies resting on the tip of my nose,

Right underneath my eyes but guarded from my vision,

Because what you can’t see;

doesn’t exist

 

at least that’s what everyone will tell you anyway

 

It’s pitiful when fear proofreads what you want to say

The fear of judgement, revenge and character

The fear of loss, conflict and anger

The fear of dormancy that’s likely to follow your way

 

Suddenly concerns are shifted towards diffusion,

Offence becomes alcohol and wine

Assaults become puberty and mistakes

Mistakes that only occurred once right?

 

Don’t use your legs, I’ll send you wheels

But demons don’t just grovel on gravel, mom

They haunt our homes too

 

I appreciate your army guarding the front gate

But now I can’t get out

I can’t look for a safe haven anymore

I appreciate you extending your arms,

But I can’t reach you

you are at the wrong place

 

Don’t you see? I’m stuck somewhere else

 

I blame you but I don’t blame you

I know relationships are notorious

For acting like camera flashes

They blind you

And they distort reality

 

I understand that now, I do

But I ask you to break those bonds,

use that entropy

To look for the map in my eyes

and I promise you’ll find me

 

I promise.

Transition states

These days I profusely resonate,

with transition states of chemical reactions;

A stage in a reaction having the highest energy but the lowest stability, akin to my life’s brand new disability;

Although they are quite short-lived, my situation offers a sheer contrast with immense passion.

Within this eternal fleeting moment, my identity is lost, and so is my naive notorious self; lost in searching for hints contained in other people’s minds.

Should I confine myself in my own judgements, should I strive to put on a skin which everyone likes or should I just embrace the continuous entropy bubbling inside my mind. There exists a gnawing person in me, wanting to step in the same river twice, because there is some stability in being unaware of the infinite possibilities of the real world.

 

Giving empathy is a two way street so why am I stuck on the wrong side?

The unconditional love that reared me, taught me to just be plain nice, but not where to draw the line, for advantages are not always positive especially when suffixed ahead of the many versions of the verb ‘take’.

Who says that mutants are fiction, they should see me shape shifting from secure to vulnerable,

with no certainity of attaining equilibrium.

You know,

the younger me never thought that the older me would learn to love the beard burn followed by my dad’s hugs,

the only thing that now ironically soothes my being,

when I walk towards the boarding gate,

preparing myself for the solo war that lies ahead,

because a substrate will eventually transform into a product,

and so will the confused child within me.

~ S t e r e o t y p e s ~

They took a seat, in my own house, and made me question my entire life.

They said, “well your father is a hardworking man, you don’t need to put an effort into anything hence!” You are a businessman’s daughter.

When I grew older, able enough to spell the word ‘Science’, they gave me a Hobson’s choice of only being a Doctor.

They said with a fake honest concern, “you have put on some weight dear, and your skin is a bit tanned”, providing me with health tips and shade cards I didn’t give two shits about.

In their minds I wasn’t an optimum girl for marriage, optimum as if I was pH.

Or as if the sole purpose of my life was to get married.

Oh, and how powerful was the power they possessed,

They made me want to leap out of my own skin, crawl out of it, my skin which suddenly was something they needed to grade.

Was I a one, a two, a three or a four? White, Dark, darker, or the darkest shade?

Who was I?

A girl just being dictated by one directional norms, a piece of clay getting poked by several domineering fingers

Leaving me with just dents, dents and dents.

Dents which were permanently engraved,

Because now I feel like I need a PhD on show to justify my nonconformity,

Because now I want to see myself skinnier in pictures and fairer in the dark,

Because now I want to be the ‘optimum’,

Because now I am another girl reduced to a ‘just’ another girl,

And I really want to ask them, is this generic classification for the fickle minded, really worth it?