Closure?

I need reasons.. I need reasons to finally be able to close doors forever.. I need reasons to stop opening them every time I miss what's on the other side.

They say when you don't have reasons to do something.. you have to find reasons why you cannot not do it... 

I need reasons for closure..

Because I can still live the memories...

It drives me crazy sometimes.. The touch of your hand.. your breath against my lips.. the warmth of your skin, a sheer contrast to the chill of mine... The way you complain about it...  the way you shiver a small breath when I touch you. Hard to believe they're memories.. And you thought I didn't remember details?

Sometimes when I lie in bed.. I can almost feel my stomach tie itself in knots at the thought of having seen you one evening... one of those evenings I will always remember.. talking about anything and everything... simply being able to smile at fate and the randomness of it all... I have to admit, it still surprises me!

I look around me to see everything throw memories-both pleasant and bitter- at me.. I catch every one of them because there's an innocence to them. I can almost smile at how I felt in the beginning.. how I'd over-think stuff.. again lie to myself just to stop myself from thinking ... And guess what.. I still fell into the well... Somehow drowning at first felt nice... Pulling myself out of the well was what drained me the most.

I'm not allowing myself to write anymore right now! Just know that.. You made me smile.. And at the same time, you made me discover this part of me I didn't think I had.. A part that knows what I had never known. I just wish it hadn't ended in tears.

G'night!

Sometimes it takes a while to fulfill the promise you made to yourself. Either because you're still finding the strength to let go or because you want to save yourself from the dread that seeps into your soul.

Emotionally, I don't know where I am right now. I'm still trying to figure out whether its better to feel numb rather than the pain that seems to be cutting deeper into my chest every time I try and breathe it out of my body. I'm gathering the courage to admit my emotions to myself, because trying to hide them from myself has pushed them to the surface even more.. with a force that has the power to overcome me. I'm trying to deal with a pain whose existence I've been denying to myself, because overlooking it has only made me more aware of its presence. I'm trying to come to terms with voids that only time can fill.. or maybe can only deepen... deepen into this gorge whose heights I can jump from to drown into an even deeper river of hurt below.

My problem is simple. I can't deal with emotions like others can. I can't see myself weak. I can never be humane towards myself. I've never allowed myself to cry, because I've always thought that it was something I was forbidden to do. I didn't allow myself to fall in love... I told myself every single day that.. that... it was just another fling, another a couple of weeks I would laugh at years later. Little did I know, that I was breaking my own rules, doing what I told myself not to. The worst thing about lying to yourself is that you can't deny the truth when it's in your face. I do that a lot. I lie to myself.. about how I feel... and weeks later, I find myself where I started in the first place.

I've started doing things I've always detested. Drinking being one of them. A couple of nights ago, a few friends came over and what I thought would be a normal sleepover for the four of us turned into the complete opposite when I opened a new bottle of Absolute Vodka. I was the only one who got drunk. And the rest I don't remember. I can't even put the pieces together to form a picture of the night I thought would give me another reason to move on. Instead, I ended up publishing a very personal post on my old blog... After a day, I deleted the post along with my blog. Because I was embarrassed. Embarrassed because I defied the laws of my own court and let myself feel again... let other know how I felt.

Some things are meant to be. Some things aren't. Some are just weirdly meant to "meant to be".. but their being never really sparks into existence. Are we even allowed to ask why? You're hurt.. you go on a break.. you come back as the person you had lost in yourself... and you believe that now you're past is never going to come back. Weirdly enough it blows in your face even harder and no matter how hard you push against it, its drug-like beckoning gets you addicted. And then once again... You don't know whether you have it in you to let go again. Everyone knows how you feel.. you feel naked under their vision.. yet you know there's no point because despite knowing some things never come back.

I've screamed my heart out, I've cried my eyes out, I've prayed from the depths of my soul and I have waited patiently for four months. Then why can't I see the sun at the horizon? Why is it that I have to push myself off a cold floor that seems to be turning into this dark pit I'm falling into? I've lost my phone. I haven't had it with me for four days now.. And that just pisses me off! I'm tired of being reminded of those memories that still make me long their presence in my life...

I'm trying to go away forever now. I don't know why but something's holding me back. I can't seem to find what string it is... But I know that snapping it will be the hardest thing I've done... DoI even want to snap it?

Awaiting another day.. 

G'night! 

I'm not afraid to cry

Sometimes you don't cry and see yourself in the mirror as someone who just lost but someone who discovered that he can survive, he can feel, he can wish, he can hope, he can hate, he can love, he can move on and let the muted pandemonium of his thoughts answer every question asked. Atleast you COULD cry. I don't how my inner self would speak if the tears dried up... I'm not afraid to cry.

First Class Honors from the University of Life

It was a weekly routine for the Thursday Club- a cosy, simple, dinner, full of quiet conversations, for two men-the only members-one about ten years older than the other. I must repeat- Full of quiet conversations. And good ones at that. I will admit its not a club of the young. But there's no reason it shouldn't be. For men, not my age, they don't impose the orthodox beliefs of men of their times. Its funny how they're not old, ranting men, who try and share the gray of their hair, and the wrinkles of their skin, with blood, so young and reviving. I would say, they're the youth of yesterday, their thoughts staying forever young, changing with generations, always keeping a special interest in what the present is all about.

The Thursday Club- Its not about yesterday, its about today. Its not about religion, its about liberation. Its not about losing out on life as it used to be, its about what you still carry after its long gone. Its not just about learning life's greatest lessons, its about embibing them. Its about the latest movies, its about the best books. Its about the jewels of time that will never lose their shine.

Its a pleasure to listen to him, as he narrates stories that leave an impression of sorts. The stories have an ambiguity of exaggeration, the beauty of the wines and roses that still hold the same essence, the tales of love and devotion, as far as they can get. They touch you somewhere.

The other, much younger, respects, teases and simply makes up for the momentary grief in the joyful flashbacks, that still bring a tear, so satisfied at the thought of still being able to remember, to the eyes of not only the listener, but the narrator too. "After all he has First Class Honors from The University of Life." The sound of hushed chuckles fills the silence as dinner finally ends with simple dessert.

Its hard to not wonder what life has been for them. Wisdom flows as eloquently as their words, rarely unheard even by the ears and minds of moronic beings lost in time long withered and old, or time too disrespected for lack of values and meaning.


Goodnight The Thursday Club. Until we meet again.
I'm glad to be a Country member. :)

A thought

Hanging in the midst of nowhere, something that didn't go anywhere, only to be strung back again, with knots in the middle of evenness. Things were never the same again...

its not an end until you want it to be

Sometimes you don't end things because you regret them, but because, you want to stop them before you do. That is one reason why I never looks upon my mistakes and my blunders as things I wish I had never done. The fact that I made them and tried to fix them, makes me feel like I have given everything in life more than one chance to be right for me.

But there are always those things that I wish I had never ended, because in the end I realized I had given up on them too quickly. But the good thing is that I never stopped myself from making the mistakes again. Maybe I shouldn't refer to them as mistakes. They're actually those experiences, those feelings that ignited in me the longing to step out of my own bubble and be a part of another's. I remember at one point of time, I couldn't stop thinking that it wasn't worth it. But then I realized, just because something doesn't work out in your favor, or things don't happen the way you want them too, doesn't mean they're not worth it. They ARE worth the effort, its just how you want to work on it. And its okay if you don't want to work on it. No one's forcing you. But at the end of the day, its how willing you are to make things better that decides how far you can take things and how worthwhile you make them.

So, as of now, I know its my decision about how I want things to be. Because I know, its not anend until you want it to be.

She...

Her name came with a set of beliefs and misbeliefs. There were some whose hopeless faith in her was carried by winds of weakness, sometimes of over-confidence and self-reliance. They didn't believe she was there; regarded her as a fictional element of dreamers, poets and writers who found peace in her unearthly existence; found peace in a world of their own making where shewas there.. everywhere, fixing their mistakes, not her own.

And there were those, whose faith in her kept dying and coming to life, time and again, just as things went right or wrong, just as life went up and down. It couldn't stay. It was worse than not being believed in at all. The blame, the curses, the harshness and indifference to her love. She cared. Always did and despite the brutality, always would. But there were some things she couldn't control-The fruits of their actions. It was hard to disobey the one above her, the one who drew her path, the path she would follow without a single question asked. The path-they didn't believe would always end in its best way. Sometimes they just gave up before she reached the end destined for them.

She was Destiny. And no matter what, she was always there with them and for them. She kept her biggest and strongest promise-to help them fulfill theirs. She broke links and connections they'd tried so hard to throw out of their lives and kept those that weredestined to be entangled forever. The one above her was fair and just, he drew her path in the very same way.

I believe in you DESTINY!