Metaphorically Speaking

A secret could be a time when life hit you real hard, that it kills your stomach and head and heart, all at once. It could be a time when you screwed up, a situation in which you wouldn't want it to repeat anymore, or words you have said to someone, or words you have listened to. It could have been the worst time of your life. 

Or maybe, the harm was inflicted on you. You’re embarrassed you didn’t see the fist coming until it sucker-punched you right in the gut. It could have been a time in your life when you weren’t being the person you wanted to be.

But then it kills to keep the secret within , the pain bring an excruciating loneliness. And just when you decide to take all the strength and courage to share it, the human species makes you feel worst than anything else on mother earth. 

You thought excruciating loneliness was painful, but you learned the agonizing pain of having your secret against you by the very same person you've trusted them with, kills you. 

You stop dead in your tracks. Your cheeks blaze, and little pinpricks materialize on your skin.This feeling permeates your entire body down to your bones. Plain and simple, you feel ashamed.

You recall a saying about how sharing your secret halves the burden of carrying it alone, but most times, its better than having it happen twice. Keeping it inside is too painful. But sharing it does more damages. In the hopes of getting rid of the burden in your heart, you pass him the razor and the map, of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. 

When your secrets are used against you, you start to believe that the world is not made of love anymore, and relationships doesn't necessarily mean to completely trust.

We choose to believe that the excruciating pain of our secrets are lighter to bear than the agonizing pain of broken trusts. That is when people like you and me start to believe more in our novels, or pets. In the trees and lakes. In the pages of a diary, and the lyrics of a song. We choose the comfort of our pillows and dark rooms over people to tell a secret to. Because they will never say a word back. 

Ever.

 Not all psychos hurt. 
Some of them are sitting right next to you in class trying to figure out how to continue on without being noticed. 
They know your secrets and flaws and know how to use them against you. 
It takes so much to control. 
To hold back. 
And that’s why I can’t be with you. 
Because I don’t want to turn into the psychos who kill. 
The psychos who hurt.

White Roses with Black Shadows.

No one has really grown up till the day you are made to believe, trust and love no one but yourself. 

I've always thought that I've "grown up" enough, judging from the situations I've lived and came across. That was a big fat lie from life. Its definitely a 'NO'.  I think one has truly "grown up" when you finally go with the ' SCREW IT' attitude. The day you come to the "breaking point of life". The day you turn from someone who sees and prioritizes the beauty of others to someone who only doubts the trustworthiness of others. The day you learn no soul is as trustworthy as you alone are. Come to question about it, if you cannot keep a secret about yourself to yourself, why would any sane person keep a secret about you to themselves? Honestly? Loyalty? Beats the first reason thou. If you cannot choose to be loyal and honest to yourself, why would someone else do it to you?

 The day you blast things off at people, for breaking your patience. The day people hear the worst, unexpected words from you. The day you show people what they have never in their wildest dream, thought of you. No, all that was not growing up. That was just the ultimate 'breaking point'. The one that happens when you lose everything. You start wearing your heart at your sleeves. Works like the short circuit that happens in the electrical wires, which finally causes a really big "fire". Growing up is the post-situation. Or really, its just the "fire" to your "breaking point". When you draw back from the breaking point, and you start hating yourself for behaving hideously, for saying things that hurt, and most importantly, for letting people see, that dark park, the hidden devil, beneath the bright smiles, of the angel you're know for. But you surely know what the "breaking point" calls for. A call for self-love. A call for self-worth. 

There'll be a point in life, where I've put to believe, that no one is worth ones trust and love, except for yourself. You lose ties in every important aspects and elements of life. You encounter clashes of every possible relationship, blood or not. Its nothing like giving up. Its just, tired. 

The days spent smiling, the nights spent crying. The one that looks so damn strong, but is really weak. Its really sad how no one will know bout these things that makes you, you. But sometimes,  its best these things die together with the your soul. Maybe after all, that is not such a bad thing, than having people who you love and treasure, or who means the world to you, using it against you. When I think of everything I've done, or I've gone through, and how people may use it against me, if I were to tell anyone about, it, I think I'm better of burying everything together with my soul. 

The feeling of people using your secrets against you, has an indescribable feeling. You wake up feeling all bright after a gloomy night tearing away. For mere precious seconds, you forget everything that made you cry the night before, you forget the reasons you are unhappy, the reasons you are so broken. Then, it hits you again, the reasons repeat. It occurs again. Whatever it may be. A break up text, a clash of friendship.  It hits like a stab to the heart, making your stomach all sick, and you suddenly remember all the reasons you never wanted to wake up earlier that morning.

Sometimes, I believe its alright to be afraid to tell people how you feel because it will destroy them, so you bury it deep into yourself and it just destroys you over time. I truly believe this is what "growing up" has done to me. Been stabbed by those I needed the most, lied to by those I love, and been left alone when I couldn't afford to. Its weird. People you call closest friends have negative shit to say about you,  and you've been all nice and supportive throughout the entire friendship. Blood or not, you treat people like they put the fucking  galaxies in the sky, and they just stab you exactly where it would kill. Its an irony. When you truly love someone, and you lay your heart open to them, you give them a part of yourself, you let them inside a part of you, you hand them a razor with a map of where to cut the deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. You begin to swallow on your regrets, choke on your past, and then swore to make history every damn day. 

Yes she is sad. She stares in the distance as if she is trying to separate herself from this world, trying to find a portal where sadness doesn't follow. She had a whole dark forest living inside of her. She is sunny one minute then she's pouring down rain. But she made broken look beautiful, and strong look invisible. She walked with the universe on her shoulder, and made it look like a pair of wings. 

That Moment

                                          

This wait is filling the void in her heart with a purpose, a direction. It is giving her the sustenance to battle it out in this hard clime. It provides her with the courage to face the demons of her past and present. In those shadowy hours, in each of those harsh moments, she keeps herself centered thinking only of that glorious moment- the happiest moment that she have had in days, or rather, in months. The darkest hours, when every minute of existence seems like unbridled torture to the extent that she can take no more of it, is upon her; but she  cling on in fervent hope dreaming of that moment which would come to pass in a few days. 

That wondrous moment, when she would see him again, when time as a whole would stop and he tread gingerly towards her while that beautiful smile playing on her  lips. There would be thunderous showers pouring all around, with the monsoon at its peak. Every drop of rain on her would sparkle like a diamond set in the radiance of a blazing flame, for him. The wind would be playing a symphony with her dark,lustrous hair, just for him. She would gracefully brush them away from her pretty face like the wind blows those dark clouds away from the face of the glowing moon in the night sky, for him. Her eyes, on seeing him would twinkle in recognition, like the stars greeting the moon, with renewed love and dainty shyness, after the heart-breaking parting which occur every dawn. As he tread those few remaining steps towards her, she would restrain the multitude of emotions running through her mind to savor the innate beauty of that single moment. She'd wana shut herself from every other feeling, every other emotion, so that she could gaze into those solemn, deep eyes and hold him close to her- never to let go, never to let go ever again.

Of Beauty and Pain.

Her beauty is inexplicable. It is beyond words, beyond songs, beyond ballads, beyond poetry and prose, beyond the feeble power of any form of mortal communication. Big, black, beautiful pure eyes, with a hint of conflicting sadness. Eyes that have seen her through situations unmentionable, and yet and keen on embracing every moment with the most glorious of twinkles. Eyes that look at him with insurmountable, insane and incredible love. Eyes that drink him in with their mystique and power to captivate even the most callous of souls.

Delicious lips. Uneven, yet the epitome of perfection. A full, ripe, quivering lower lip and a thin, hardly-there upper one. Lips that talk without speaking, emote without moving. A smile that pierces her eyes, radiating beauty that's almost unbearable.You can see how perfect that ring you are going to give her is going to look on her right hand. She is beyond beautiful to you. 

So intense that you want to cup her in your palms and keep her there forever. Protect her from the gashes this cruel life might inflict on her. Keep her safe in the store of your heart, let her live off you.

And that perfectly synchronised dance that her eyes and lips perform together? A stolen glance with a mischievous smile, a caressing gaze with a knowing spreading of her lips. Ah! The sheer magnificence of it could make you cry.Her uneven, small teeth. The way she presses her lips between them, each time she fails to get away with a prank, arouses you in a way nothing else ever can.They way her jaw moves oh-so-mildly every time her lips utter melodious words. 

Her voice. Hypnotising, mesmerising. How it wraps you in endless warmth every time you hear it.Her skin, with all its unevenness and imperfections, is the embodiment of perfection to you. The freckles, the crinkling the skin around her eyes every time she cringes at something you say, the lifting up of her cheeks every time you plant a kiss upon them, the radiance of it every time a bead of sweat rolls off her forehead.

The way her unruly hair fall around her face. Fall over her eyes, across her delicate forehead, stick to the nape of her neck.....her beautiful, slender neck. The way it sways every time she turns to look at you, the way it arches every time you make love to her, the way it twitches every time you kiss it.The way the small of her back fits perfectly under your hands. The way the fat around her waist helps you hold on to her tighter.How her lithe hands play with yours, blessing them with their short-lived moment of grace.

But, no..

You picked at her. You picked at every part. Picked at every fibre of her being. You picked her apart. And then, you scatter them. Scatter them all on the ground. Scatter them like they mean nothing. Scatter them like they aren't her. Scatter her apart. And then, you stomp over them. stomp over all the ghastly pieces. Stomp over the words unspoken, the memories yet to be perfected, the love yet to be immortalised. Stomp over her existence. Stomp her apart. And then, you redesign them. Redesign each one of them. Redesign them to suit your thoughts, your feelings, your insecurities. Redesign her to be you. Redesign her apart. And then, you cut through the rotten ones. Cut through the dreams, the aspirations, the moments of pride. Cut through them, stab the fucking life out of them. Cut through her. Cut her apart. And then, you pick her. Pick her up. Pick up every piece. Pick up every fallen part of her, Pick her together. And then, you reassemble them. Reassemble the hope, the life, the glint in the eye. Reassemble them to be her. Reassemble her together. And then, you caress them. Caress every piece. Caress every emotion, every tear, every smile back into them. Caress her. Caress her together.And then, you cater to the bruises you left. Cater to every gashed attempt, every bruised love, every dented success. Cater to her. Cater her together. And then,  you restore her. Restore every piece of her. Restore her mistakes, her successes, her insecurities, her strength. Restore her. Restore her together. And then, you glue her. Glue every fibre of her being back together. Glue her back together to form a perfectly imperfect person. Glue her. Glue her back together.

She is her.  Or is she you? She is back. She is living her life. Or is she living yours? She is back. and she is restored. Or is she destroyed to be you? They were right, weren't they?Love can't be put into words. Her beauty and destroyment can't be put into words.It is beyond words, beyond songs, beyond ballads, beyond poetry....

Love, Lyana. 

And She Moved On..

She has always been a sucker for amorous flicks. They call her a hopeless romantic, but those movies makes her feel happy, or complete. It made her believe in love, in the theory of soul mates, in trust and most importantly, in happy endings. 

Boy meets girl, trials and tribulations, long stretches of time spent away from one another; but none of this changes the fact that they’ll be together in the end. Together, and happy, forever after. 

Not only did she liked these movies, but with the passage of time, she started believing in the events that took place in them. It’s the cliché flow of events: Girl falls for guy, guy breaks her heart, realises what he’s done wrong and apologises. The apologising part is something she believed would happen and really liked. Someday. she hoped, and wished, and prayed. She entreated with all her might that at some point of time, he would realise that what he did was wrong and unethical, and that maybe by apologising to her, he would have lessen the hurt. 

And do you know what the worst part is? 

She still finds herself wishing for it to ensue. No, it did not happen like it did in those chick flicks. The only part bearing a slight resemblance to the movies is the part where she cried, hoped, struggled; where she failed to put it all behind her. She always thought that there would be a point when she would be able to say that she is finally over the guy. Each day passes by catching a glance of his Facebook profile. It wouldn't  bring back a flood of memories. A day when her heart won’t skip a beat every time someone mentions his name. A day when.....when the mourning period would finally, and definitely, end. 

Unfortunately,for her, the point never came. And she don’t see it coming any time soon,either. 

What he did to me was plain nasty. Something you don’t do to girls. Something which is, urmm,  immoral. But he did it nonetheless. He did it, made her cry, made her regret being with him and gave her another rationale to curse myself for not being able to let  bygones be bygones.

Now, one might ask, what’s his fault in all of this? His fault is that he made her believe in him. His fault is that he made her love him, made her forget how life was sans him. His fault is that he has turned cold and callous now. Not very long ago, he was bothered about the reason behind every little sigh of hers. Seeing her upset bogged him down. He spent hours and hours, trying to cheer her up, trying to make her smile.

And she got addicted to all the love and care that when it was taken away from her, it left her little heart shattered. However, as they say, time doesn’t wait for anybody. And she is no exception to this
rule.

She will have to move on; will have to get on with her life. And guess what ? She just did. She has put it all behind her. She won't say that she don't care any more, but she has learned to let the caring bit pass. and not affect her like it used to earlier.

It was all getting out of her. The suppressed emotions, desires, recollections...everything. And she believes she's pretty close to the I-have-moved-on-point. So close, that she can almost taste it. :)

Skin.

Maybe it's been 365 days of the most beautiful roller-coaster. Maybe it's the mark of a crowning glory on the last day. Maybe it's a big achievement and the selfishness of it's external comparisons that render it a happiness-like quality. Whatever it is, the more I don't recognise myself, the more I like myself and as and when the blanket of familiarity draws closer, so does a sense of derision. It's strange, this process of learning- of growing up. They tell you,  you will accumulate, build, create. They leave out the parts about losing, crumbling and destructing. Where you grasp the essence of unconditional love, a love without boundaries or barriers or warriors, without a requisite number of people feeling the feeling, not bound by unnecessary necessary banal activities lying to draw people closer but actually designed to drive them further apart. I love you, and if you never do, it's okay, but if you don't want to, I'll smile and let you go because there are no conditions except one. My love for you. Where you grasp this, you also fumble with the concept of black, white and grey; right, wrong and I-don't-know. Is it always so simple? Am I always right? I must be, since becoming all worldly-wise? See how ridiculous that sounds yet it's a very plausible possibility in your enlightened mind. A mind that tells you there's a distinct line yet doesn't know which side of it the missing piece of puzzle lies. You let it out on those that disagree. Disagreement doesn't sit well with this new persona. The changing unchanged bits of it are the most affection-generating ones though. Travel to places, to hearts, feet, souls, landscapes, oceans, vehicles, temples, vineyards, airports, stations, instruments, music and lives of brave-hearts are on top of the list, at the bottom and in the middle. It is the list and while I pen down lines that I've dreamt of the previous night and hope (latest poison) for a sturdy shoulder to come home to and rest on, it is still the only list and there is no place yet, for anything else. Not even warmth.  

You weep till tears creep back to sleep. Drowning in your troubles, they seem so deep. Trying to find the button, the one that says “off”. Trying to find a reason, any reason to laugh.You pray for life, you pray for the end of it. You pray for the shoulder that no-one can lend. You pray for strength, strong and true. To fight all those demons, so true to you. You asked for the sun, but the clouds came out. No shooting stars on the dark, dark shroud. Just cold hard rain, like fuel to flame. And they stood watching this cruel game. You need to stand up, and walk ahead. Strike with force, so your demons be dead. The sword and the shield, your mind is the two. It’s all that’s there, its all that’s true.

You touch me within and so I know I could be human once again- Grimes

The Life in Hurt

"This storm has gone past. Maybe it's will be alright for some time." 

   

The petrichor of silence is all that you are left with after your thoughts rain down all night. The desperation isn't visible to everyone, anyone perhaps. Yet, inside you are burning with questions, with thoughts that are raring to turn your world upside down like a shipwreck in a storm. And you can't have your sails brought down. You have to move ahead.

You do everything in your capability to make the ones around you happy. You find them every time they are down, you find them every time they are looking for an escape route to happiness. And yet, it becomes increasingly difficult for them to bail you out when you are in a bad situation. Excuses flow like a river that's barely out of the mountains and all you are left is the unquenchable thirst of nothingness.

Every time you are let down by the people around you in your life, there is this sudden surge of disappointment from within. Understandable. You are in a precarious situation on whom to defend - your self or your loved ones? But who exactly wins in the end? You don't really have an answer to that, no matter how much you'd want it to be to you.

A hurt life isn't an answer.

But storms don't just happen out of the blue.

It's important to know where things are and where are you. Being humiliated in a relationship is not the way ahead. There are some things in life that deserve your happiness and your ire. More often than not, we are being devalued by people till we are gone. And when they don't find us anymore in their lives, they are left with just an awkwardness in the people and the places. Without you, life is never the same for either of you.

The hurt becomes your life.

The hurt that you somehow begin to blame yourself for, the same hurt that gets you angry and desperate to make a bad decision. This hurt clings on to you like a child to a mother, urging you to pay attention, to keep away from doing anything else, to quench its thirst, its hunger, and you soon find your self in your own sweet world of devastation.

You stop feeling, dreaming, hoping. You stop living.

There's no point going further into this world as it simply makes you get away from it all. And in the process, you turn away those who genuinely care about you and hope to have you till they breathe their last. That's not the point of life.

Deep introspection, with respect to the people whom you want in your life and whom you need; who need you and who want you only when they are turned away from everyone else, that's the need of the hour. You need to follow your heart, take some tough decisions, stick by them. Bad or good for others, they will definitely be good for you. But yes, never take a decision when you are angry. More often than not, you'll regret it. 

Get up in the morning. Make a hot cup of tea. Decide. Your life awaits you.