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Pink Skies

Cold, dreary morning. 

The sky is a strange shade of gray and blue. Not the sad gray of a typical rainy morning and nor the beautiful blue of a July day. I drag myself out of bed to the smells of my mother's cooking going on in the kitchen which hits me even stronger as soon as I am of conscious thought. I don't feel hungry and this worries me. Usually my mother's cooking makes me drool and specially after starving the night it should be worse.. and yet no. I am stumbling around in my Pooh night-shirt, running my tongue over my newly brushed teeth and wondering what clothes to wear.

The sky is a lighter shade of gray now.

I get frustrated as I run out of choices for clothes. Finally I put on my oldest, most comfortable black top, favourite gray skinny jeans, a mismatched lime green mardi gras necklace and a red Alice band in hopes of brightening up my gloomy demeanor and slap my hair back into a pony tail. With the grace of a whale, I stumble around the house and finally get into the car with my mother. 

It's raining slightly. My gaze is the general vicinity of my knees. My thoughts revolve around college, friends, certain people, work and so on. It comes to a halt at my sister and I realise I miss her. I sigh and stick my freezing hands under my thighs and sigh in relief. The day is bleak and overcast, the clouds hang in the sky like pregnant women all the way to college. 

The panoramic lounge gives a perfect view of the sky. It starts to pour buckets and I sit with Mariam, Mandy and Mutaz; freezing and sipping Bru hot coffee from the canteen. The tip of my nose is cold and I wish I could stick my nose into it. After a breakfast, Jevon walks in, wisely wearing a hoodie and he and I talk random crap for a while, like we always do. I decide to have lunch with him and walk off to a boring Bio lecture. 

Two hours later, I miss my sister again. It's a dull ache. I walk back into the lounge. The sky is the lightest of lazulines with a strange sprinkle of the dullest aquamarine. It's almost like the sky is hopeful but not hopeful enough to have faith to be completely cerulean like the skies you get during the months of July. The perfect shades of periwinkle that fade into purple, brilliant orange, violent vermilion and spun gold. No. Today's sky is likely to fade into a depressing shade of sick beige. I try to optimistic as I sit down with Jevon for lunch. We have two helpings of rice amidst talking about Drunk Stories and vaginas. I don't feel so alone. Normally I would sit at the lounge and it would be full of people that I know and yet I'd feel so alone, so disconnected from everyone there. I know for a fact that I am not the only person who feels this way but it still feels crappy.

The rest of the day passes on with small talk and remotely interesting conversations with people. The sky steadily grows bleaker and grayer as my spirits and self-esteem plummet lower and lower in circling spirals in a beautiful sky-dive after seeing certain parties. Maybe I need to stop giving a shit about certain parties. I was happier before I started caring.  

I am heading home and my thoughts stray back to my sister again. I look up at the sky while driving down Galle Road. 

It's a beautiful shade of Conch-shell pink. It's also mixed with the pink of a perfectly poached salmon and I see mauve dusting the edges. There are streaks of gooey gold across the expanse of pink and the edges of these gold shards are a brilliant orange, shading even deeper into crimson. Fiery, fiesty colours, just like my sister. I watch the sky, mesmerised, not knowing what to think. It's like a brilliant canvas of an artist who lived in the sun. It's beautiful and I choke up. Everything is pink and it's beautiful. The car moves along the road and I can see the ocean, the beautiful Indian waters stretching out. I look up from my tears just in time to see the sun dip down into the horizon to wrap up another day, and for the briefest moment, the world turns red. I think of my sister, miles away, and I pray for her to have sunsets like these I pray for everyone to witness the amazing depth of nature around us, even in something as simple as a sunset. I pray for anyone who is dying to see such a sunset before they leave this world. 

The day is done, and even though I have no one to go home to, I'm okay. I have myself.

And I have hope.

Hope for another pink sky. 

To Unmask

It's 1430 hours. In more earthy terms, half past two in the afternoon. I am at the ANC lounge and Jevon is sitting in front of me, commenting on my status. He's like half a foot away. Yeah seriously Jevon. My new vent buddy.

To be honest, I never had a vent buddy.

To be honest again, I never write in such a personal manner. I always cloud things up with metaphors. Fancy-fi them. My own feelings, emotions, thoughts, I put them into poetry and words with a comparison, a similarity, an analogy of a sort. Always a façade.

It's time for me to remove this mask. If I don't, it might end up growing onto my face and changing me. Time for the raw facts now. 

I was speaking with Jevon and he and I both agreed: I live in Dramaville, USA. The funny thing was that when I was spilling my guts, I was laughing hysterically because I was watching my life crumble before my own eyes. But I was venting to someone who was listening to me, so I suppose it was something. I guess I was looking at my life as a person who isn't in my life. An outsider. And I saw how stupid, petty and silly it was. In most case scenarios, this was the case. Jevon picks at my half eaten food and we discuss various theories about my nutcase tendencies. It's a release. I tell him about my situation, the complete and utter mess my life is at the moment. I am sitting by and doing nothing and I am somewhat tired of it now. He tells me to change it. I wish I knew how.

I walk into the cool a/c-ed lounge and I am greeted by a "Savitchi" by Chanuk and Chathu. Their new name for me. How sweet <3. I greet them with a "Sup bitchface?". I feel good. 

To be honest I am a pathetic excuse of a human. I am depressed, unhappy with how I look and currently failing at writing because of the emotions that are stagnant in me. See, there was a certain person. We shall call him X. We all know him. He was the constant source of my inspiration for fourteen solid months. Now that he's gone... What do I do? I don't remember how I was before the last fourteen months. I don't remember how I went on with life before he stepped in because I had grown to accustomed to him, to having him around me like a constant shadow.

Well, I was the one who ended it. I am firm about it. I had had enough. But then I have moments, sad, terrifying moments when I am alone and un-distracted, I think to myself: Did I do the right thing? Is any good going to happen to me? I have doubts and I am constantly riddled with them. It's odious. I am maintaining a cool nonchalant facade and I force myself not to think. Busy busy busy is my motto. When you don't think, you feel less and your hurt less. I am benumbing myself on purpose. Thinking about my problems is like a dreadful jump off a cliff; you let yourself go and the sea and rocks below rush up to meet you but you pull back because you are scared that the resulting pain after hitting those rocks would be much greater. You don't think that after that crippling pain, you're going to be swimming with mermaids and watching sunsets faxed down from heaven itself. No. It's always the impending, oncoming onslaught of pain. It's the dread that kills you. 

I sit next to Lidush and Karthick and listen to their silly talk. I laugh and I joke with them. It's so easy to be around them both, they are such easy going people. I am glad they are around. I tell Lidush some painful things and I hold back tears. He listens patiently. I feel vulnerable as my mask slips away and I struggle to force it back on. As I watch Lidush talk about someone's female assets with Karthick, I am not really listening. My mind is elsewhere. I am feeling sad. I have been reduced to a person who has no faith. Am I really that bad? Am I? I don't know. I hate my appearance and I hate the fact that I have not penned a proper thought in ages. I feel like crying because of this. Writing is my forte, my release... and when I can't do that... it kills me. I want to put everything back together and go back to being me. 

But who am I? What is me?

I need to figure that out first. I have been defined as "me" with another person in the equation. Time to find my own definition. 

I want to change things. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I miss my friends, I miss being with them. I want to go dancing. I want a certain person (we call that person Y) to accept me in ways that I want. I need to find myself. I need to let loose and let go and lose myself in something and discover what it is like to be me again. But I don't know where to start. I don't have any direction. Life is a mess, messier than spare ribs in onion sauce. I want this over with. I have to make it work. 

I had to go home. I hug Karthick and I hug Lidush. He hugs me a little longer, putting unsaid things from the previous vulnerable conversation into the hug. I hold on because I am glad for that. Grateful even. 

As I get into the car, I notice the brilliant shade of pink the sky is, and it reminds me of my sister. It reminds me of my cousin and all the good things in life. I have been gray and black far too long. It's time I turned a lurid shade of pink. I still have no faith, but I have lost a little of disbelief. That's a good thing right?

I realise I know where to start. How to begin my painful healing process. 

It starts with taking off my mask.

The Treble of a Breaking Heart.

The night is long my dear,

it’s long.

The moon is alone in the sky

The slow soft breeze doth sigh

The song is sung,

it’s sung.

The sun is sinking my dear,

it’s sinking.

Look at the birds flying home

O’er the palm tree standing alone

The day is done

it’s done.

The primrose lonely my dear,

on the hill

Ere the fragrance soft and sweetest

Doth the light seem its bleakest

The joy is gone,

it’s gone.

The little young lad my dear

is crying

Crying out with his soul

A burgeoning loss of whole

He smiles no more,

no more.

The daffodils yellow my dear,

 in the field

Nod not their bright heads

The tulip doth not glow red

They smiles are gone,

are gone.

The lonely wolf my dear,

is cursed for he

Hath no comfort of Morpheus’s arms

Nor the gentle song and calm

The wolf is cursed,

is cursed.

The night is long my dear,

it’s long.

The heart will slow its beat

As to sleep go aching feet

Lying on the bed so alone,

so alone.

And o’er all this you will hear my dear – a new more foreign sound

A sound unlike any other. A haunting melody of sorts.

The treble of a breaking heart.