Everyone has a story

There are so many people. They’ve so many stories. Sometimes they reflect a certain degree of discontentment, and their lips shiver and their eyes… They become wet, and then they let us explore a side of theirs no one ever could. There are so many with the tragedy of partition, there are so many mothers waiting for their son to come home, from that late night party, drooling of disgust, drunk and inebriated, and the strict fathers getting that phone call that their son didn’t make it through the accident.

There are so many lovers trying their best to help the other, the girl with that golden smile, left alone in the dark of the city, waiting to be rescued, and you see from the far away corner of the road, her smile glowing frequently. There are so many grandmothers taking care of their druggie grandchildren.

The echoes of these stories are heard thoroughly by every passerby, and these stories continue to echo, for days and days and years and centuries.

“My son, was the best son.”
“We gifted him a car. It killed him.”
“I loved him, but he left me.”
“Addicts never change.”

And they prevent us from sleeping.

Honesty in a fake society

There is and old saying “It’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie” and I am among a very selected few that actually believe this rings true. People say they want the truth but in reality they want you to say what they want to hear.

Maybe it’s me there is problem with, maybe I need to stop being honest with people. I mean what’s the point upfront and honest with people when they would be happier living a lie and having you consign for it. They say ignorance is a bliss maybe that’s why intelligent people go insane, it is truly burden to know and feel so much and know there is no way a good majority of people will ever able to understand, share and or appreciate your thoughts, gestures and opinions. People are so used to other lying and being fake, honesty is now taboo. People look for hidden meaning in words that have none because everyone is so accustomed to bullshit; no one says what they really mean.

One thing you can always count on me for you is to take my words at face value and this is why I now stay to myself. I don’t fit in this society or this generation; I’m not plastic enough.

 

Ripping my own heart

Please let me pierce this heart so I may never feel with it again
It’s been so much a burden and even less a friend
It drags me into situations that I truly cannot face
Though when I try to get through them I always lose my place
So let me end this now so it can be on my own terms
Then let me bury it where I may and feed it to the worms
I’ll no longer be a slave to you I’ll no longer lose my way
For I know I could be happier without you each and every day
All you do is torment with how much people truly don’t care
And to think about this brings me distress and it something I can hardly bare

The Art of Listening

When someone comes to you to rant about an issue that may seem ‘insignificant’ to you, hear them out. And never tell them how other people have it worse and/or quote instances from your own life of issues that seem ‘bigger’ to you, completely disregarding their problem thus. For at times, all that people need is a person willing to listen to them, however little sense they make and simply be, if not anything else. And doing something of that sort does not just drive them further in their problem but also adds on a sense of insecurity and inferiority; and a guilt in them for having approached someone for an issue so ‘wee’, resulting into something as drastic as them never breaking out of their own shell and opening up again.

Doesn’t harm lending someone an ear for a while, does it?

\

Down I Go

Deeper
&
Deeper

I

F
A
L
L
.
.
.

Looking glass?
Rabbit hole?
Through or down?

I can not see
I do not know

Peaks:
Lonely, ominous
Valleys:
Dark, cavernous

No light to be seen
Only skewed reality

Happiness

Outstretched arms
Open heart

Muscles strain
Synapses stretch

All in vain
Only an illusion

Greed and Gratitude

If we learn to be content with minimal things.
Then we find ourselves feeling rich no matter what life brings.
A man with three meals and a bed is rich to those that go unfed, and he is envied by Those who have no bed.

Contentment is a place that few have seen, we are divided from it by a sea of greed.
Mountains of envy too stand in the way,
“If I only had that” is what we often say

The Sad Memories

The sad memories won’t fade away.
And why should they? The tears
bring about the person
who is missed the most?
It keeps them alive and vibrant
in one’s memory bank.
The more a tear falls, the more
they are remembered.

Without You

Without you,
What would I be?
Without you,
I’m not me.
Without you,
I’m incomplete.
Without you,
I can’t conceive.

You’re the peace that finished me.
You’re the other half of me.
You’re the only one for me.
You’re the only one I need.

Without you I’m just a mess,
Just another human wreck.

You’re still here with me

My weary feet walked life’s journey
Along winding roads
Hills and dales
Along shores washed by the sea
Along valleys touched by the sun
Knew I was not alone
Your footprints swept by the wind
Are invisible in the dust
You traversed these roads and footpaths
And you left your scent behind
And your lingering fragrances
Fill the stillness
I know that our paths will cross once again

(For everyone who lost someone dear)

Through the Years

When looking back to all these years, I felt like I was treading through treacle. I have laughed, smiled, cried and winced as I tripped down memory lane. I felt like I was standing in a large cine theater watching someone else’ life, yet, it was mine. What have I learned throughout this lengthy process? I have learned that I finally like me just as I am. You see as I flipped through the photos of my life I saw I had never been to me I was only a shadow of the woman I am created to be. I also saw over recent years I have filled the hurt and voids with so many unnecessary things, which left me constantly feeling overwhelmed. As I let go, the tears may have flowed but a simple truth remained the things most precious to me are not mere things but my family and friendships and these cannot be stored or collected but require daily connection and appreciation. The clutter will never replace our basic human need to be valued and appreciated and share the love we came to earth with. I feel much lighter and more focused on loving those I am blessed to have in my life.