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.

Day Six - The Writing Challenge.

Prompt: Open the book, turn the page.

"The lights dimmed down and the candle flickered. The creak of a door opening was the only thing he heard after a long time. Heels clicking on cold tiles came closer. A spicy scent overcame his senses and he moaned. A metallic clunk sounded and...."

With a sigh, she flipped the page and continued reading the manuscript. "This won't work.."

She closed the book and slammed it on her bedside table.

The About Me Challenge - Day 5

Long over due..

Q: A recipe of yours and something you hope to do in life.

A: Recipe - Honey Onion Sandwich (I came up with it on my own - best for when there's nothing else in the kitchen.)

Ingredients:
1. Onions (at least half an onion...)
2. Honey (one teaspoon)
3. Salt (to taste)
4. Pepper (to taste)
6. Oregano (a few pinches) (you can actually substitute with chaat masala or something)
5. Olive oil (one teaspoon)
6. Cheese slices (you can't not want it!)

Method: Cut the onions into thin slices. Add salt, pepper and the oregano. Toss.
Add the honey and olive oil and toss.
Toast the bread on one side each and lay the cheese slice on the warm side. Wait till it's all gooey and then lay the onion on it.
Cover with the other warm slice and press.
Use a sandwich-maker if you want.. I just use a tawah.
Smell it.
Eat it.
Make more.
Eat more.


Something I hope to do in life:
I hope I can travel to Chile and lay under the night sky at least once. It's such a beautiful place. See? <3 br="">

And, Love. (Not a reprise.)

To those who haven't read And, Love; here's a link! 

And, Love.
(I promise, this is just as nice as that one. xD )

When you love someone so completely, that you overlook their every fault, lose your inhibitions and just give in; tell me, is there nothing holding you back?

Have you been in love with the way they smile? The way they look at something?
The way the world just seems a pretty place when they're there?

When they give in to you, they say it's the best feeling in the world, and that there's nothing that can ever go wrong again.

You can't know where your thought ends and theirs begins, their ideas are yours and your emotions, theirs, they say.
"We fit like a jigsaw.. so marvelously perfect!" , she said.
"He's so perfect.. so fucking perfect!", she said. 

She said she loved him.. and then she said she feared him. The absolute power he had over her - the way she knew he could break her if he wanted, by just drifting away. 

She started fearing his absence.
"I live life with love.", she said.
"I live life with love and fear.", she said.

"I live life with fear and love..", she said.

There'll be days you'll hurt for no reason, I said.
Don't give in, I said.
They'll leave, no matter what, because they can't be owned. If they were yours, you wouldn't have wanted them.

The way she looked at him was reason enough to believe she loved it. She fell in love with love. It gave her a high, she said.

"He's life itself.", she said.

Your life, yes. 

And then, after they drift away, you realize they were never yours to begin with. Couldn't be yours. They were bewitched by their life's goals.. Their life was something else, and they could never live with you.

They aren't yours. They weren't yours. Not your life. Not yours. Ever.
You live. You love, and then you fear absence. You fear replacement. You fear your dispensability, and then you live again.

A/N: Well, for starters, parts of the above piece were fiction. Not entirely, but which part, I'll leave you to figure out.
Written for a friend I grew to love, despite her absolute doormat-ness. (kidding, please.)

And yeah. I've not changed my stance on love, have I?
Oh God. *rolls eyes*

More? More.

A lot of people wanted to know the web address of my other blog.
I hardly update it, but what's there is good. They're mostly just stories.
Here goes. 

Soft Whispers

Have fun!
I'll be updating here soon. ^_^

The Cat with the Broken Tail

One day, a little girl of sixteen was all alone at home.

She wanted a screwdriver to open up some gadget.

She stood on tiptoe to reach up to the shelf.

She spread her fingers in search of the screwdriver.

Her hand found something. Something pricked her hand.

When she drew her hand back again, it was bleeding.

Upon further inspection, she found that a little porcelain toy cat’s tail had scratched her fingers. Deep.

She pulled out the cat with the broken tail and stared at it.

I was a gift from her old, old friend. She sat down on the ground and let a single tear escape. 

"What are you scared of ?"

"What are you scared of?"
While talking to some really old friend of mine, he seemed to have picked up on my gloom and had asked me about it. He then proceeded to ask me other weird questions. But this one question got me thinking a lot over. 
Well.. Here goes..

I'm scared of the fact that no one in the world is indispensable. 
Every person can be replaced, more often than not, by people better than them. I'm scared that it is true.

I'm scared that the world might implode some day.
The way the world might just... not exist some day.

I'm scared of how fragile butterflies are. 
I'm scared about how the butterflies keep reminding me of how fragile human hearts are.

I'm scared of saying 'I love you'. 
The way I stopped saying it to maybe more than just five people in life. 
I'm scared that some day I will be all alone.
I'm scared of the fact that one day, I might wake up from bed and not be satisfied with life.

I'm scared for all those people who harm themselves.
I'm scared that I might never be able to be the person I wanted to be.
I'm scared that the butterfly I hold will either fly away or die.
I'm too scared to touch one.

I'm scared that there will be a larger 'to read' pile of books in my life, than a 'favourites' pile.
I'm scared that if I am too picky, I'll be left with nothing.
The way beggars can't be choosers.
The very same way someone who loves you cannot say it to your face without a little caution.

I'm scared that people will break my trust. 
Trust crumbles the way trust does.
I'm scared that one day, everyone I know might no longer exist.

I'm scared that I won't be able to achieve what I set out to achieve. 
Scratch that. I'm terrified that I won't be able to achieve what I set out to achieve.

I'm scared that some day, I might not be able to make the ones I love, happy..


All that and more.. It is all about irrational fears and insecurities.

A/N:
This isn't a negative post. Keep the hate.

The Umbrella Story

The story of how I now ought to prefer colourful patterns as opposed to the repetitive black and whites that I used to... An indication of how I people (me) grow out of their comfort zones.. Maybe jump around a little, and finally trust people.

This one time, shopping for all the back-to-school supplies with my mother, we came across a small store. What attracted me to the store was the display of umbrellas. It was a store that sold only umbrellas and rain-coats. I convinced myself that I was in desperate need of an umbrella, since "Mom! All my friends now have umbrellas. No one really wears rain coats anymore!" Yeah, mom. Like you didn't see through THAT.
So, the store..
It had these wonderful glass displays full of umbrellas and they were all black, grey or white, all with different patterns. I entered the store with my mother. I started looking for an umbrella that I would like. The shopkeeper, trying to be helpful, fished out all the colourful ones he had. Zazzy colours. Stripes, flames, polka dots.. you name it. He was a little disappointed to see that I didn't like them one bit.
I asked him to show me the black and grey ones. He looked a little puzzled and said "Beta, those are for all the boring people.. All the kids use these colourful ones! Why don't you choose something from these, here?" but I insisted.
He finally showed me some of the black and grey ones. I found one that I really liked. It was black.. and had grey checks. Uncommon. Things that don't stand out in a crowd. Good enough to blend in, unless someone looked closely. I ended up buying that one.

After I went home, I enthusiastically showed it to my grandfather. He asked me why I liked it so much. I didn't really have an answer at that time. I just said I liked it.
After two days of thinking about grandfather's question, I framed an acceptable response. Well, acceptable  by babyish standards, of course. I was much younger, then, you see.

I told him what the shopkeeper had said as well, right after my 'answer'.
My answer (I don't remember much.. or I'd rather pretend that I do not remember..) consisted something along the lines of  "Tata, I don't want to stand out in a crowd. It is scary. People will look at you and point you out. All your flaws.. wide open... for the whole wide world to see..! How can anyone want that? By buying an inconspicuous, yet pretty umbrella, I'm just trying to make sure that people who see me for me will be able to find my faults. That way, people I give permission to, are the only ones who can break my walls.."

He asked me if I could keep a secret, then.. to which I said yes, of course. Being a quiet and calm person, it kinda came naturally to me. 

He then sat me down after dinner, and told me things that I will never forget. He told me about how I must not let what people think of me define me.. of how people always judge a book by its cover and how people notice colour. He told me that colour and pattern were things people are attracted to and that even when faults were found, they would overlook them. I didn't believe it, then.. I somehow do not believe it now, either. People are mean. They do not overlook faults. They cannot accept things that are beyond them. They just..Believe. Naive as it may be, the word believe does, in fact have the word 'lie' in it.. (Looks like a thought for another day, though..)
By using a colourful exterior, you can try covering an ugly interior.. But then, it works the other way round, too, doesn't it? Cliché. The colourful, beautiful interior, covered by the dull greys.. More than enough movies on that concept.
Then what about the beautiful interior.. The one shuttered by multiple layers of black? What can be done to the walls that have been re-erected after a betrayal, or two.. or a hundred? The walls that might never crumble again? 

See? People don't notice. They just go about their business and leave the rest. And that is a good thing. The last thing someone shuttered needs, is people prying.

There are more things my grandfather told me that day.. about how not all people are like that.. etc. etc. Maybe. Maybe not. It ain't my life's mission to find out the truth behind those words. I hope they are true.. and that there are people out there who care. But that doesn't make much difference anyway.

Well.. after that little talk, I never told of that piece of advice to anyone. He also told me to use the black-grey umbrella until I was comfortable with using a colourful one. 

I use the black-grey one till this day.

Maybe some day, I will visit that shop once again and ask the shopkeeper to give me the most colourful, flashy, pretty umbrella he has and start using it. Maybe then, I will be able to throw away the black-grey one.. The one, owing to whose small size, travels with me in my bag almost always, during the rains. The one that shields me from people.. the one that shields me from.. Me.

Well, then... That's the story. Off to bed, kids.

P.S. Apologies to the black-grey umbrella. I love you. And you are absolutely BEA-utiful.

Heat.

I believe that heat is the answer to almost all things in the world.
I will agree, though, that a burn can not be treated with fire, metaphorically speaking, of course. But isn't the cold just absence of heat? 

Men are fond of playing with fire, knowing it will burn them. Our world is divided into two kinds of people, in my view. Ones that jump into the fire without a care in the world – the ones who think they know what they will do, once out the fire, and Two, people who stand on the edge and peer down into the fire, thinking of ways to avoid it all together.

What I do, is think of ice and step in, knee deep into my personal fire.

There is almost nothing a warm hug can not cure. People can some times just break down during a hug. They might be the big, scary “I’m the tough one” outside, but when they’re truly alone, only a warm hug can do any thing worthwhile.
There is no such thing as fake warmth. Anger, lust, love; all of them can be faked – and easily enough, yes. But real, true warmth that comes from one’s heart can never be faked.
There are people who might think different. Heat can sometimes, they say worsen things. Ice cream melts in the heat. But you enjoy one only because of the heat.

Heat, is but a higher degree of warmth. While some might oppose everything I’ve said about warmth and heat, I still believe that heat is comforting and can almost always cure a broken heart…

A/N.:
Taking/took a break from the challenges. I just don't feel like typing them up.
I'll edit this one later. For sure. There's so much more I have to say, but my head isn't letting me form coherent sentences. Too tired. Later.

Day Five - The Writing Challenge.

Prompt: Your silver feathers shine diamond bright.

"If you're going to keep that bird locked up like that, it's feathers will lose their shine! We can't have such birds in our house!! Let it out for a minute. Don't forget to tie its leg to a ribbon and let it back inside soon. Do you understand??"

"Yes ma'am.." I nod.

This is the city of Ping. It is far, far away from other villages - so far, it is almost just a legend.. and so the people around here stick together in close-knit, family-like groups. Sometimes, it gets too stifling. The only way out of groups like that, was my way. No one could ever imagine coming out of "family"... I just.. had a little fight, and yayy, wish granted.
So, I went up to the richest people in town and started working. I was to take care of the birds they had. In this place, having a bird is a status symbol. The birds' feathers GLOW if they're taken care of. That glow can be shown off. There isn't really a reason..
Hunters look for the birds, capture them and bring them back to the large houses where they are caged.

A few years ago, there were many many birds. Now, the one in this house was the only one left...throughout our country. There was just one..
The birds were beautiful. Since the day I had started working here, I loved the bird. It made me sad that I had to be the one to tie its legs, lock its cage and let it out for a few minutes..
I wanted to free him.

______________________

It was a dark night. The moon was hidden behind fluffy clouds and the village was dark..unlit, except of course by the bird's feathers in the large house. Ping was celebrating "The days of Ignorance". They believed that ignorance was bliss. During these celebrations, no one in town was allowed to light up their homes at night. No light. Not even to smoke a cigarette. If, during the mornings, there was any sunlight, the windows were to remain closed and the blinds drawn. As little light as possible was to be let in.
These were two days..two very precious days for the common thieves. They would sneak up and take away whatever they wanted from the unlit homes. The rule, was that, the next morning, if the villagers noticed something missing, and found it in possession of someone else, they had to keep mum. Feign ignorance.

I saw a perfect opportunity to let the bird free, on the first day of the days of Ignorance..No one would notice at night and they wouldn't be allowed to talk about it after the celebration! Well, there was at least ONE good thing about the village... Why I even wanted to let it free, I didn't know. It somehow just didn't seem right that a creature as beautiful as the bird was imprisoned.
Every single time I let it out on a leash, it looked at me, pleading for me to set it free.
This time, I finally would.

With the pleasant thoughts of how pleased the bird would be, with my favor, I went slowly to the golden cage where the bird was kept. I winked at it and motioned with my finger for it to stay quiet. It was one intelligent bird...
I slid the latch open and reached inside, untying the silk ropes around the bird's legs. I stepped back and opened the window and motioned for the bird to fly away.
It trotted slowly to the edge of the cage and spread its wings. Giving me a grateful look, it took off into the dark night, taking the glow and the light of the village with it.
I watched as it soared into the sky, bright against the inky sky, among the stars. The scene filled me with happiness. But I couldn't just stay here. I knew that the mistress wasn't supposed to talk about the now missing bird, but they sure could act upon it... And, my mistress had horrific ways...

That night, just after I let the bird free, I grabbed the golden cage and ran for my life. I now, would have no job. If I had to get by, I  had to sell the cage. The bird had to do me SOME good?....
I sprinted down the spiral stairs as fast and quietly as I could. When I found myself out of the castle, I made my way to the edge of the forest that separated our area with that of the other villages.
I was going to leave Ping...
I was leaving Ping...

______________________

I ran into the forest, the thorns and twigs pricking every part of me. Stumbling on rocks, struggling with the cage, I ran and ran and ran from Ping.
Who wanted to stay in a village that celebrated the days of IGNORANCE, for heaven's sake!!

I ran till my feet bled and I was out of breath. I then climbed a tree, dragging my precious gold cage with me. Hugging it, I fell asleep on the branches.

In the wee hours of the morning, while I was descending the tree, I heard a beautiful sing-song squeak. I was almost sure, it was the bird I let free, that I turned around, looking for its shiny feathers. And there it was!
The bird had returned to me. It had come back!
Upon taking a closer look at the bird, I noticed a small roll of paper tied to its left leg. I went and slowly untied the string and opened the paper.
There were very few people who could read and write, throughout our small country. I, luckily, was one of them. Whoever must have written the note must have known that I could read...
Here, writing was a form of secretive communication. If someone else had to know something, someone had to tell them orally...
The piece of paper read:

        
            I know who you are and what you are doing.
           I know you left family. I did too.
          I also know why you left. I know, because I did. I am guessing that we had the same reason.
         I know you know how to read. So, hear me, now.
  This is a very precious bird, and as you might know, the very last in our country. But just because it 
  is the very last in OUR country, doesn't mean it is the last in the world.
  Send me a confirmation that you have read this and then I shall tell you further. 
 - Y


What did that mean? Did that mean that this person knew me? And, if yes, then that would mean that I was being spied on... which doesn't make sense, because I am just so plain!
My mind was buzzing with questions, but I decided that I'd first write back to mysterious "Y".
I searched for berries. I found some orange ones and crushed them. Dipping my finger in the paste, I smeared a crude "Yes" on the back of the paper and tied it back on the bird's right leg. It promptly took off into the morning. I sat atop the tree once more, waiting...

The sun rose up in the sky and according to my calculation, it was some time around noon, when the bird returned with a larger bit of parchment. I quickly reached out and untied it. It read:


 Go back home. Go back to where you were.
 No one has noticed your absence, yet. Even if you are a little late, you can reason that you were out, flying the bird. It is no use trying to cross these woods alone...
Maybe next year.. I'll try to be around to help you with it..
Go back.
- Y


This time, the note left me a little puzzled.
I quickly decided that I'd return home, but leave the bird free in the wild, regardless of the consequences.
I started sprinting towards Ping, again, heeding the note.
It was midnight, by the time I got back. The village was still in the dark. I sneaked up back into the castle and pretended to sleep, waiting for morning to bring with it, the many accusations and punishments.

The shrill scream of my mistress woke me up from a deep, but troubled sleep.
She screamed at the top of her lungs for me. I ran up the turret as fast as my legs could carry me. I saw her standing near the golden cage. The golden cage that I had replaced, the night before. 
She turned towards me, furious. I was confused. She wasn't supposed to act like that. She wasn't supposed to 'know'..
"How DARE you leave the door of the cage OPEN?! Do you have any idea how disastrous it would have been, to lose the bird? It is the only status we have, left! You stupid little girl!! The bird could have flown away!"
Flown away? I let it free! The bird wasn't here anymore!
"I..I..Am.. s-sorry, ma'am.."

"Alright. Now just let the bird fly for some time and shut the door. CAREFUL, OKAY?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Was she seeing things? The bird WASN'T HERE!!


My mistress moved away from the cage, walked gracefully to the door and swept out of the bird's room.
And then, I saw that the bird was right there in the cage.
Either it had returned or.. someone caught it and brought it back!

I went to it and noticed a small piece of parchment tied to its leg. Another note!
I untied it and opened the piece. There was a hasty scribble..

    Don't question the turn of events. The bird told me that it would miss you terribly.
    It said, it didn't want to be without you. I tried reasoning. 
   It said it loved you too much.
   It nudged me to write this part of the note:
   "I love you, nameless. You took great care of me. I am, after all, a tame bird.. Not wild. I cannot 
    survive without help. 
   Love will keep me locked up in this beautiful cage. Thank you for everything you tried to do."

Burn this note.
- Y


With trembling fingers, I went to the nearest fireplace and crumpled the note and flung it into the depths of the fire. Without another look at the bird, I ran down the tower, crying.


A/N:
I like how the story has turned out.. *blush* *blush*

The About Me Challenge - Day 4

Something I need to forgive someone for..

I need to forgive my best friend for letting me go, I guess. That's about it. I'm generally a " Forgive but never forget." kind of person.

Day Four - The Writing Challenge

Prompt: Crumbs of love locked inside a gilded cage.

Note: Okay, so when I first read the title, i found it a little depressing.. so I decided to make it a kind of a suicide note with first person thoughts...especially guilt. I deliberately made it a little haphazard, cause when people are on the verge of ending their lives, they don't think coherently.. in order.
Also, it kind of starts with a sad note, goes all angry and accusing, then shifts to self pity, and then, goes back to sad and then, to the End.
I think that's how it feels like. I've tried imagining it in order, but it doesn't make sense.
P.S. Any resemblance to any person is unintentional. 

----    ----    ----    ----    ----

Sometimes, I feel like you want to get rid of me...see? You just don't show me.. you don't tell me everything that you once used to. It makes me feel so insecure, seeing you with her.
It IS her, isn't it? No matter how many ever times you deny, I know.. I just do. You tell me its your new job, the new city, the new everything that we need to adjust to, but really... I know better... Or do I?
I've seen you with her. I've seen it in your eyes..
I've noticed the way you now behave around me. Don't tell me I'm oversensitive and the likes of it.. cause honestly, I know exactly how perceptive I am. I notice everything. I usually just prefer to keep it to myself. In fact, seeing her just thrice, with you put things in brilliant perspective for me, thank you very much.
I'm just waiting for you to realize what you've gone and done... to realize that everything is over. 
Despite it all, I love you.

It's not just you, you know. I had found my happiness too. Yes. Away from you. You weren't what I wanted. You changed. Happiness away that's away. Far, far away from you.
He talks to me. He makes me feel so good...
I love you, but he's better for me. I don't like what I become around you... some kind of mad creature, trying to rein in her feelings. I do not love myself when I'm near you.
I love you, but it won't make me stay. I've had enough of you. And now that I've found what I want, to a degree, it's over.
----------

She had waved him out of their little condo, a mere half hour ago. She now sat on the edge of the thirty six floored building, thinking of ways to end everything.

A little less than half of that hour ago, everything was alright.. well, almost...
She was prepared to let go of the old him and move out, and into his place. He had called. He said he didn't want her anymore. He sent her plans... her make-believe world crashing down.

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I'm now standing at the edge. One step to end it all. End everything.
I'll be gone. Forever.
The easiest way to stop feeling... I'll finally be gone, just like you said last night. I know you didn't mean it, but it hurt. I listened to it all. Your rants and your I love yous. I can't return now. I'm beyond repair. I feel too guilty to come back to you.
You kept me well...Very well. You kept a bird locked in that beautiful, gilded cage. It was beautiful while it lasted. It is after all, the rule of nature to make us all seek greener pastures...
In my defense, I'm but human.

It isn't forgivable, and I'm not asking for any. It was my fault. Everything was. I know... This is why, I want to go away, where no one can ever find me again. I don't have to make decisions, don't have to think, not feel... not feel guilty, not feel anything... and don't have to go anywhere... just one step. Its all just a mere step away from me. All this is what I want.. What I need. It is something I can live with.
One step, and down I go..
One step, and I end. I cease to exist..
One step, and I'm sorry..

"Thank you, Thank you.. for Everything..."  She muttered to herself, hurtling down the glassy windows.

Author's note: (Just because I can..and making it another post is just too mainstream. :D )

The title. Crumbs of love locked in a gilded cage. So, what exactly makes me sad about it?Well, I think that, if you really love someone, you'll set them free...and if you really do deserve their love, they will love you back, no matter how far away you are, from each other.
I know that I love my grandfather. One day, we were talking.. (forgive my lack of coherent thought and probably grammar) .. like we did, always.. We went deep into philosophical thoughts and life after death. That was when He made me promise that I'd never cry if someone died. He made me promise not to cry when he died.. A few months later, he did..  
Well, He made me believe that the ones that truly love us, don't really leave. They're always there in our hearts. I like star-gazing. It reminds me of my grandfather. I know he watches down on me, everyday. (Another post on that, soon.)
I know some people.. People who lock up.. choke their loved ones, afraid that they'll "escape" .. Yes, I've actually heard that, right out of someone's mouth. I'd like to ask you one thing, Do you really not believe in yourself that much? Are you not confident enough in your ability to maintain a relationship? Mind you, I'm not talking mushy, meaningless, teenage "love".
Statements like that, actually confuse me and make me want to question their motives.. But being the sensitive a** that I am.. I just can't... So I keep them to myself, and usually include them in little "notes". Why, you ask? Because no one pays attention, then ;)
So, back to the prompt.. Don't lock up people you love. They'll just go away..sooner or later, that is bound to happen. Love them all you can, from a-far, like you would, a butterfly. Believe me, I tried trapping a butterfly once ( in grade 2) and it died. That made me feel so bad.. And that kind of stayed with me. Trust me, it applies to so many things.. you'd probably be too lazy to introspect, anyway.

The conclusion? I just have too much time to while away..  

- Sharma ( who needs to control her emotions, sincerely, a true Cancerian.)

The About Me Challenge - Day 3

Something you'll have to forgive yourself for.

I'll have to forgive myself for giving up on my best friend.
I'll have to forgive myself for not getting into a National Law School.
I'll have to forgive myself for crying on that day.
I'll have to forgive myself for closing my eyes that other day.

Day Three - The Writing Challenge

Note: Meh.. I'm just too lazy to actually type out everything I write. Yes, I write them all. 

Prompt: Close fast, the iron door and turn out the lights.

Hot, damp air howled in her ears as she ran down the stone steps, her white gown flying behind her. She looked pale, the chiffon leaving behind a trail of perfume. The dragon at the base of the staircase, she could get past, if asleep; but if he found out that she was escaping once again, he'd lock her up - and no amount of pleading this time, she knew, could make him change her mind. If she failed to escape this time - five plus one attempts - she decided that she'd just learn to enjoy her time in the minaret she was kept in.It was not like it wasn't beautiful. Everything there was perfect - except for that man, of course..though he kept her well..Her footsteps echoed down the empty stairs as she ran, hoping that he hadn't noticed her absence yet. He was deep into writing something on a scroll of parchment, sitting at his desk, three large buildings away from her. Searing hot air now rose up the middle of the winding staircase. Suddenly, a loud growl shook the minaret. The dragon was awake. Slipping past a sleeping dragon was one thing and running past an awake, hungry, irritable one was another. She felt her earlier bravery slipping away from her with every step she went down. The pungent dragon's breath wasn't helping either. She slipped, missed a step and tumbled down the stairs. Clawing at the edge of a step, she steadied herself, made sure she wouldn't tumble down and shakily, stood up again. She paused, thinking about all the other times she had tried to get out of this tower, back to the library she owned... She missed it terribly. This man had the largest library in the world, dedicated to her, right beside her minaret, but she wanted her own one back. She took a shuddering breath, crumpled down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and started sobbing uncontrollably. She had lost, once again. With every passing second, she felt her will draining away, overcome with a feeling so strong - she wanted nothing more than to run back to her stone room and collapse on the bed once again. She knew she failed.After some time, she heard soft footfalls approaching her down the stairs. She could tell, he was here. It was weird, how he always knew where she was.. In fact, it was wonderful, she thought. At last.. She could go up to her room back again. He'd help her up..He came to her and held out his hand for her to take, but realizing that she was too weak, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and started up the stairs. No dialogue passed between them. He'd usually shout.. or at least tell her off for trying to escape. But this time, he hadn't said a word. Maybe it had something to do with her tears. She never cried.He looked pale and pained - not his usual self. He carried her up to her room and laid her gently down on her bed and went back and leaned again the door frame, watching her."Dragon breath does that. A few more minutes.. and you'd have lost all your will." He shuddered.He walked to the candles, looked at her through the mirror, blew out all the lights, walked back and slammed the iron door shut on her, without a look back at her.