Shame On Me.

The laughters and the memories

Were made, sealed, protected.

But what of the laughter?

It will fade in to nothingness

Forever in the voice of the wind.

And what of the memories?

They will be nothing but 

Whispers of times that passed 

Frolicking in the sun

Holding hands down the busy street

Making love in the afternoon

The endless warm balmy nights

I have no regrets

Oh no I don't.

But shame on me

For holding you so lovingly.

And shame on me for kissing you

With my eyes shut so tight. 

My Bubble. MINE.

I dwell in my little bubble.

It's a bubble of Green, cheese, chocolate and books. Of poetry, Johnny Depp and plain tea.

It is also a bubble of misery. 

It is a bubble of intense depression and hate.

Hate for the world and the humans and what they are. 

It's a bubble of varying emotions and thoughts.

It consists of a myriad of smiles, frowns

Oh yes, laughter and tears too.

I am happy in this bubble I dwell in. 

Is it because I am shunned from reality in my bubble?

Or is it because reality is in high definition

in my bubble?

High definition like a Sony Bravia screen.

Oh I don't know. Something about my bubble... it just amazes me.

My bubble is awesome and it's cool.

I advise you to get a bubble like mine.

That way, you can live in happy ignorance and care about things ONLY worth caring about

Like abortion, child labour and when you will become famous. 

And in your bubble, you are free to run naked for all you want.

Because it is YOUR bubble. You want to be a naked chimpanzee? Go for it. 

Your bubble will be your best friend.

A pretty pretty best friend. 

Get yourself a bubble and let me know.

We'll go bubble dancing together.

And while we're at it, don't burst my bubble.

I won't take it lightly.

Because when you break my bubble, you break me.

And no one breaks me.

No one. 

I hate love.

I know I know, such an oxymoron eh? Yeah, it is a highly ironic thing to say, but I am not talking of platonic love. So, in my view, non-platonic love is one of the most disgusting things. It makes one a fool. 

So, you build walls right? You have your armour, your guard and they are all ready for battle. No one is going to break those walls, no one will go past them and reach out to that soul deep inside you and the best part is that you won't let them. Of course not! That, is highly ridicilous! Horse-feathers! You will never entertain such a notion. All this undying, unconditional and un-whatever love crap is good for the pigeons. And no pigeon, chicken or ostrich will crack YOUR defense! You are super awesome and you like to keep it that way. You go on with life being the cool, nonchalant, super deatched, uber cool person you always were and you feel great. You feel awesome. You ARE awesome. 

And then some idiot/fucker/asshole comes along and fucks you up effortlessly. 

Maybe it's the way he grinned or the way she tossed her hair. Maybe it was a hug, a kiss, a dance, a bite or even a random slap on the wrist. Maybe it's their stupid adorable curls, their buck teeth, puppy eyes or beard stubble. Maybe it's the way they fell on their ass or the way they tripped over their own laces. Whatever it is, one thing is evident: You Are Buttfucked. All your defenses fall down like crumbled Marie biscuit crumbs. You want to sing corny, crappy love songs, you want to be all cutesy and possesive. 

And then comes the second snag: You Are Butffucked AGAIN. Why? Because the intial source of Buttfucking, you know the one that made you listen to love songs? It goes away. That person moves away and your are Buttfucked beyond your wildest imaginations.  And really, it's not pleasant. Hardly. 

So now, you feel naked and vulnerable. You let down your guard for this person. Or, in all honesty, that person wormed their way through your best defenses and rendered said defenses utterly useless, incapacitating them. You are left feeling vulnerable and exposed, like going commando on a cold day. 

Then you realise you are alone. You have no one but yourself to help you to dust off and pick yourself up. All the silly clichés kick. "Time will heal all wounds" or "It's better to have loved and lost". I mean, what the hell? Some smartarse comes along and quotes the Greatest Quotes They Think Helps You When You Are Heartbroken. You then feeling like throwing something heavy at the head of the idiot who tries to comfort you but instead you smile and say nothing while your insides seethe away in raw anger and annoyance.

You.are.alone. 

You have no one but yourself to hate, blame and hurt so you numb yourself emotionally and forget everything, distracting yourself with work and stressing yourself out on a daily basis just to avoid spending time alone with your own goddamned thoughts. 

Fuck that. Fuck all of it. Go tell your parents, sibling[s] or best friend that you love them. The above three parties are the least likely to dump you, butffuck your mind and break your heart. Out of the three parties, your parents would never really do any of the above highly offensive things. So seriously, kiss your mum goodnight and tell her she's fly. Because in all honesty, she really is. 

One last thing before I end this: Always keep in mind that when someone sweeps you off your feet... they are in a perfect position to dump you on your ass. :)

Pretty Little Monsters

The monsters that lie dormant in my head

Sleeping peacefully in their beasty beds

Lacklustre expressions, foul little smiles

Looking at thee, from eyes beguile

Pretty little monsters, they call to woo

Shades of jealousy, mockery and rue

Seductive monsters sing out thy name

Dance pretty monsters, seduce and maim

Colourful monsters, so beautiful, dance

Clearing thy head of expression askance

Drawing thee in with pretty wit, smart

Malvolent laughs at thy burning of heart

Pretty little monsters that lie in my head

Pretty no more, but deadly instead

Reveal themselves at the break of day

The pretty little monsters drove thee away

Stab Me.

Stab, stab, stab.

That's all they do.

Stab you from the back, right into your spine

Cutting off all your senses

Whispering lies in your ears

Lies that you grow to believe.

Stab your lungs so you can't breath

Puncture your skin and let it bleed

Stab you again, and again, and again

Stab, stab, stab.

That's all they know.

Stab you with kindness

Stab you with words

Meaningless "I'm always here"s

"You can count on me"s

Stab you even when you scream no.

Stab you with kisses, with care.

Stab, stab, stab.

You stab yourself right under the ribs

And when you're lying a pool

Of your own blood flowing on the tile

You look around for one of those stabbers

They're gone.

With them, their kindness, words and care.

"I'm always here"? Really now?

Go fuck yourself.

All you did was stab.

Stab, stab, stab.

Stabbed me until I stabbed myself.

And then you left.

Stab, stab, stab.

That's all they do. 

Stab, stab and stab.

Hatred For You.

As much as I want to be sefless

I want to see you cry

The uglier side of me loves the pain

You'll feel when I someday die

As much as I am patient

I want you to weep at my grave

I might love you, but it poisons me

For it is not me you will save.

I want your heart to break and crack

Just like you did so to mine

I want you to suffocate in your head

Oh, the thought is so divine.

I want you to be crippled with grief

To fall on your knees and break

I want you to feel a lifetime of regret

For every oncoming day break

But I want you to stop crying and smile

Look back and compare me to the dawn

I hate my self for loving you

So just miss me when I'm gone.

Scaring Happiness

Happiness chased me,

pursued me for so long

But I ran away because it scared me.

Happiness stabbed me,

like a knife, in the back

But I screamed not because I was petrified.

Happiness pushed me,

off the edge of a cliff

I didn't open my eyes because I was brave

Happiness called to me,

like a mist creeping over

I sent it away with kisses and then I fled

Happiness held me,

in the arms of someone until I cried

Happiness kept coming, wave after wave

Until I stopped running.

And when I stopped running..

.. it stopped chasing.

So I chased happiness in hot pursuit.

But happiness ran because it was scared of me.

An Ocean of Tears

A tear is a strange thing. Why do I say this?

Well, a tear denotes so many things. One might call a tear the unit of the myriad human emotions we come across. A mother will cry when her child does her proud. The same mother will cry again when her child falls fatally ill. You might see a tear in the eye of a man who is so angry at himself for losing someone in his life. You'll see a tear in the eyes of a boy who did things he is now regretting. 

Tears are everywhere.

Funny thing about tears is that they are beautiful. They are beautiful, they are magical, and even if they are tears of hate, they are still magical. They shine and they catch the light and show the colours of the rainbow, just like how it contains emotions.It's impossible to imagine that one drop of salty water that falls from your eye carries a world of emotions in it. Maybe it's joy, maybe it's grief. Maybe it's deep rooted anger or regret. As humans, we can feel a vast spectrum of emotions. Most of these emotions don't even have words to describe them, but we have given words to a chosen few. The most prominent of all these is love. 

Love is like a burning flame. Get too close, it makes your eyes burn and water from the heat. Go too far, your eyes water from the cold indifference. Either way it makes you cry. The better part of love can be denoted by vibrant colours like red, orange, vermilion and gold with bright blue, light blue and pink. All the colours of a flame, blending together, burning and burning forever. The sadder part of love is in black. Complete and utter black. The same black that you experience when a flame goes out and plunges the surroundings into darkness. This is much the same with love.

We cry in both circumstances. We cry because we are so happy that someone loves us so deeply. We cry that the one we loved left us. Tell me honestly, is crying a weakness? Some would say it is. Actually, most would say it is. I think I'm the minority that says not. We humans, we creatures of amalgamated emotions cry inside our hearts... but it's not always so easy to let the tears fall. Crying is the first step to acceptance.. which is the path to healing. It takes courage to cry. It takes fear not to.

Every tear that falls finds it way to the ocean. Tears are endless, and this is why the ocean is so vast, never ending and expanding. It cannot be tamed. It cannot be forced to behave because the ocean is comprised of human emotions that fell down human cheeks and filled up the trenches of the sea bed. Human emotions cannot be forced to behave, just like the oceans. You never know how it will react, just like you do not know on which part of your cheek the next tear will fall on.

So, it's okay to cry. After all, if not for the tears, we'd have no oceans.

Dance With Me

The breath I draw is now careworn.

The heart and beats are battered and torn.

Do you want it?

Maybe you had it.

It doesn't matter now, I am alone.

The eyes that once did shine so bright

Have no sense, no depth, no light.

Who took it away?

Nothing more to say

That battered heart cries of fright.

The empty hands that once held

The soft embrace that once witheld

Where has it gone?

Where is that song?

That once in time wind upheld?

No you cannot start that fire

Not when the heart is barbed in a wire

Detach it, you must

In time I will learn to trust

The surest start of wildfire.

So blaze your kisses down neck and throat

Sing to me the song you wrote

Make my hair fall down

Pleasure away this frown

Make me beg to stay afloat

A broken heart, in pieces and shards.

Do you want it?

No.

Would you take it?

No.

Win it.

I want you to win it.

It's the only way.

The beats are long, just sway.

Dance with me this night.

Dance to the pink dawn light.

It's the only way.

Blue.

The sky was a brilliant blue. Bluer than blue, if that was possible. He loved the sky like this. He always has. It was her favourite color. He was spread out on the sand, his Hawaiian print trunks blending in well with the beautiful shades of the peaceful beach. There was a small sprinkling of cirrus clouds at the horizon and the water spread out over them in an ever changing, un-tameable expanse of cerulean. Beautiful azure, the deep richness of lazuli.. it was haunting mixture of blues. He sighed, crossing his hands under his head. The sun beat down upon him, burning and soothing. The coconut palms shook their green leaves gracefully at the caress of the wind. The sand was glinting gold, each grain of sand glowing brilliantly. 

He closed his eyes and for several minutes, he could here the gentle crashing of the waves and the rustle of palm fronds and he thought of her. The beach always reminded him of her. When he opened his eyes, she was there, right next to him. He smiled, knowing he'd always find her when he needed. She was dressed in a white cover-up, a yellow bikini tied at her neck. Her thick black hair gracefully fell past her shoulders and it shone in the sunlight. On her lips was a familar smile. 

"I have missed you" he said, his hand reaching out to hers. She held it, and slid close to him. 

"And I have missed you" she replied, running a finger up and down his arm. He sat in an upright position, cross legged, and they faced each other. He took her face in his hands and stared at it, long and hard, like he couldn't stare enough. He studied her deep brown eyes, her soft nose, her lips and he looked at the scar on her cheek. He stroked it gently with his thumb and kissed it. She closed her eyes. He held her to him and breathed in her familiar scent. 

Together, they lay back on the sand and watched the blue sky. Nestling comfortably on the hollow of her throat was a pendant of a blue butterfly, made of opal. His gift to her. He touched this and stroked her neck softly, finally leaning over to kiss her. Her body was small and delicate in his large arms and he held her to him, kissing her and recalling memories. Time passed on. 

The sky was now a shade of light gold and pink. 

"It's time" she said. His heart sank.

"When will you be back?" he asked her. They stood up. 

"I won't be back" she said sadly. His heart stopped. 

"No.....No! NO!" he shouted. He grabbed her and held her, and suddenly, it was who was she was holding him, supporting him. 

"It really is time love. I have no say in this" she explained. He felt tears welling up. He sobbed and he couldn't hold it back. She was holding him as he cried in her arms.

"Stay" he said.

"You'll learn to love again" she said.

"But you taught me! You taught me what is was. How can I learn again?" he protested, raising his head. Tears were pouring down his face and he noticed tears on her own cheeks. 

"I love you" she said.

"Don't go" he pleaded. 

"I love you. I loved you with every single beat of my heart. Those beats were numbered. But I loved you to the very last of them" she said softly. 

"No..Please.. Stay. I love you." he cried.

"This heart will always be yours" she said.

"Stay" he said. 

"You'll find someone who loves you for who you are. Someone who'll be around longer. When that happens, think of me. Think of me and know that I'm watching you and I am happy for you"

"No" he said. He held onto her and they held each other for an eternity and yet it could not be enough. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky until it was disappearing below the horizon. 

"I love you" she whispered.

"I love you" he said. He held her... and suddenly his arms were wrapped around thin air. She was gone. His knees gave away... and he fell. She was no more. 

Another afternoon.

He watched the blue sky. It was her favourite colour. His missed her. His heart was still hers. He never really got it back. 

Suddenly, a little butterfly with brilliant blue wings settles on his knee. He holds his breath. A breeze blows through the palm fronds and he hears her voice in the wind. He and the butterfly watch the sky and a tear rolls down his face.

She loves me. 

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.