Of Me and You.

I've been debating moving on to the Wordpress blogging platform, and I finally did it!

I'll still post here, but that'll be my main blog now! Visit me at my new blog!

Sorrow

On how to get over your sorrows: 

You can't. You have to live with it. Especially if it stems from envy. Harmless envy and some form of self-pity. Life isn't always fair. In fact, it is hardly ever fair.  

When you restrict yourself from drowning your sorrows in alcohol and other self-destructive behaviour, it takes form as unnecessary tears, bouts of anger - at yourself, at your situation in life, and the people in your head at that time. This sorrow is the worst of its kind. It cannot be cured. It stays deep inside. On most days, you can ignore it; tuck it away deep inside your heart and mind. But on some days, it makes itself known so prominently that you start to wonder whether you're a bad person by nature or just in the wrong situation at the wrong time. You start  to wonder whether you'll ever have a good chance at excelling in life or not. 

On Desperation

Desperation is the key to most accomplishments in life.
Whatever man does, he does out of desperation - to overcome the utter hopelessness of a situation, or to eliminate the possibility of a worse tomorrow. Never have I seen man succeed without an element of desperation in his dreams. 

When you see him, you can feel it in the way he holds himself, the way it carries over to the most ordinary things in life. The thirst, the raw want shines through his eyes. It shows in the set of his jaw to the frown marring his features. He believes that whatever he does out of this crazy desperation will get him out of his personal hell. His energy flows into others. And at some point, it makes the world work in his favour.

I want to be that person. The desperate one. The one who wins.

An Unlikely Letter of Love

My love,

How fortune is it that we live under the same sky, and stare at the same moon?
Breathe the same air, feel the same sand..

My love, how absolutely in love am I, with you, that I overlook every fault, every harsh word?
I set fires, I burn. I keep warm, I love.

Giving all that is me, everything. Eyes piercing the shuttered soul; keeping with present pleasures, giving up.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Love the same music, sway to the same rhythms..

A light dusting of sugar, a bitter-sweet kiss. A swirl, a lift, a twirl and dip.
I jump, I fly. I hug, I love.

I’ll see you sometime, the night said to the day. A flutter of wings and a retreating dawn; a dusk a time to sigh.
My love, how I have yearned…

My love, causing chaos; my dancing little imp – wreaking havoc in my soul.
A pinch, a tuck; a feathery caress.
I kill, I save. I melt, I love.

Floating, dancing you made your way in, my love. I cried; danced.
Beneath flowery nothingness I lived. Together we swayed, we lay.

I saw, I created, I spun fairy-tales; I loved.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?

Raising hand, intertwined fingers, sweet words, shared dreams.
So far, yet so near; we stood time-zones apart – worlds apart.

Candlelight, wine and table so neat; made of dreams – fragile as ever.
A thought away, teasingly you stand. So close, and yet so far.
Tears flow like rivers. The world runs dry, the suns don’t set. The beauty in it all fades to dust.
As we meet, colours bloom, butterflies soar, eagles dive. The oceans rock; it’s all pre-destined.
I drew, I spun. I loved and loved.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Flimsy, veiled vision it was. Cracked mirrors, music off-beat.
You left; a bleeding, sewn-together version of me. A crevasse, a chasm; a valley in her heart. Filled to the brim with sweet-smelling flowers; now washing away, wasted in the flood.
Passion mingled with love - flowed down the drain. Time wasted, patience gone.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
My love, chaos-causing demon…
Of all the things you could have had, you wanted the pieces of a broken heart.

My love, how fortunate is it that we live under the same sky, stare at the same moon?
Breathe the same air, feel the same sand…
How fortunate, indeed.

Of Use

Of what use is a broken heart to a giver? 

Of what use is a broken heart to a lover?  

She should have guarded her heart a little more. She shouldn't have let the walls come down. All she has left, now, is a small sacred place called home.. that remained untouched by his half-assed affection. 

Her concrete walls become metal and inside the fortress flutters the yellowed, used napkin yet again. 

The About Me Challenge - Day 6

Q: A letter to someone you wish you could meet.

A:

Dear You,

I've known you for approximately two and a half full years. I've grown to love and respect you. If ever, in life, I happen to come across the place you live, which I know is on the other side of the earth, I would barge in and hug you and tell you how much I absolutely adore you. I hate hugs, so, you now know how special you are. Our brains.. I swear, they're twins. I enjoy every single minute I spend talking to you, online. Hell, I even enjoy looking at those dots going up and down, indicating your typing!
Skype's great. But meeting you.. will be better. I hope I do, someday. And until then, I'll keep wishing.. and hope you feel the same way.
Love, 
Aditi

A/N: To edit.