when paths diverge

have not felt this way in a while. perhaps i have but have buried it under a million things so that i may forget so that she would forget and hope that that semblance of normalcy will suffice. that she understands. nay i lie to myself. i will be that prodigal daughter for them because i’m not there, because i want a life of my own. tis not a hedonistic life of pleasure i seek but one that my existence demands. yet they do not see it. tis selfish they say. you leave us. you have never cared. you were always this selfish. we were always right about you. erasing a large part of my existence in one fell swoop. know not how i feel. perhaps will not examine the tenderness that i feel. it hurts. terribly. and i know not what to do but cry. i hate crying. i hate that i hurt when wounded. i hate that i get wounded. i hate that i am not inanimate enough to feel the stab of your words. piercing. impaling without caution, without care. because i had wounded you with the path i have chosen. could you not be happy for me? could you rejoice when i do? do you not know how much i miss you? how much i love you? since life is about choices i choose. not the path of least resistance but one that speaks to my heart. i cannot live that life. the life i had. it will kill me. i know it. i was dead. this fell into my lap. you see the smile on my face and think that i am happy because i have left you. but i will never leave you. not when i love you this much. see that. please know that. that even if my life choices lead me away from you, i am there with you. i do not know if ever you will understand. these are choice i make because i want to live a life i can call my own. existing will not do. if you could see the colour of my heart, you will see it is not black. it bleeds red. i know not how to convince you, for i know words carry not their weight in gold. actions do. i hope that one day you will forgive me for my choices. i had to make them. for to surrender would mean to cease to live.

roots

am angry. at the world; at myself; at the news; at the greed of man; at the complacency of society; at my weaknesses; at my fallibility; at the preposterousness of  our lives and how we have allowed a notion to dictate the fates; at how we might be the ruination of life. the undercurrents have decided to surface or that i am now aware of them. resent this feeling of utter helplessness as if my hands were bound behind my back and struggle as i may, the knot will not loosen. perhaps will be plagued by this feeling of ineptness indefinitely. anger will only play into the hands of nothingness, of which i will never be free but to surrender volition so easily. this cannot be. need to return to my roots.

perhaps in the ground

the detritus of him remain swimming in my thoughts. the surface tells not of the chaos within. walking down the street, a random thought surfaces; stomach lurching i remember him. to live in anticipation yet fear of time; know not how the end will arrive. perhaps with fanfare; perhaps with quiet determination; perhaps replaced.

how do you love someone? quietly, constantly, softly. no matter the other. but for that you suffer, with your insides turned out, with your heart on your sleeve, hoping to be caught. call it stupidity, for by any other name it would feel as stark, as sweet, as intense. at odds, my head and my heart cannot agree – to love or to leave. perhaps the prophecy will fulfill itself to my utter detriment, the silly thoughts planted by years of tragic lovers of centuries past. rapier word, thy blade is fine; lays cold in my bosom, warmed by the blood that flows freely.

fie! fie! i will not die in the courtyard, in the cold. perhaps in the ground.

rock and a hard place

a friend said that i ought to paint and pine. i paint to forget; i pine in my sleep; i wake to find myself wanting. as the tide ebbs a sense of loss takes me. would i rather fester in pain or walk away with the shards of ego i might salvage from the debris. paint i will, perhaps it will cease, this constant yearning, rehashing of a life past and a life not known.

were

if time be the essence of life, does extracting this noxious element from existence pare life down to nothingness? perhaps it is what i seek. perhaps it is to ease the passing of time. before the reaper arrives to collect you from this mortal shell. perhaps i will never know until the moment i take my final breath.

will not yield to this gaping hole. you will not be my nemesis. i will paint as pine as one unexpectedly put. i will forget you, even if i have to paint you into oblivion. i will not have a half life. i seek one that is mine, that is whole and that i can hold without doubt, without pangs of uncertainty. deluge of emotions; palette of colours. you were.

you

i wake; you’re there

i sleep; you’re there

my stomach knots

i read; you’re there

i drink; you’re there

i dance;

i open my eyes

and i realize

you’re not here

the longest winter

it’s going to be a long 3 months.

looking for a map

how should we die? to die as we had lived? and in that death nothing happens. life runs its course no matter as if your existence never was. perhaps that is what the living grapple with. that our existence and the futility of it weighs heavy on our shoulders and yet we seek a semblance of meaning, of structure to this randomness we call life. i implore thee. tell me what does it mean to live? i have sought and still i seek and yet the incidence of answers brushes past without warning, without fanfare and i missed its passing. does anyone have a map?

perhaps the moon

tell me. why do you love? when it hurts? when you never forget? when your olfactory system remembers unexpectedly? am standing in quick sand, invariably struggling, only to sink further into the mire. throw me a line. a weight so that i might reach the bottom and perhaps remain there. but nay i refuse to be won over by this dull ache that catches me mid breath, stomach lurching, head spinning. i cannot yield to this nothingness. will not. when did trifles steal my heart and leave me wanting? lacking. and so i lie so that i may inch away from this yearning. bleah. i am game but this moping is preposterous. to lust, to love, to desire – but what from the other? reciprocation? and when that is not forthcoming? do i die? nay. i shuffle my feet through tomorrows, breathing barely, hoping for the ebb of the tide. perhaps the moon will take it with her. soon. perhaps.

roll a coaster

so is another day. and here goes the rollercoaster yet again. seems like life will not suffice until it turns me blue and green. so am a permanent shade of aqua. perhaps i inflict this upon myself. the necessary has to be done because there are things i have to see through.

lessons i should have learnt thus far – that life will happen when it’s ready. you cannot hasten nor prolong the turning of wheels. there is a pace which gaya has intended. oftentimes it all happens when you lest expect, like a blow to the back of the head that leaves you dizzy and muddled and sometimes with a gash in the head.

- good people are hard to come by. when you find some, keep them in your life, in your pocket if they’ll fit.

- don’t panic. even when you have no idea where you are or have no money in the bank account. maps don’t always lead the way.

- breathe, walk, observe everything and enjoy the moment.