Dear 50 followers, thank you for finally rendering me speechless. : ) 

Shiver.

I had a dream I stood beneath an Orange Sky : Alexi Murdoch


Now there's no room for negotiation and none for personally viable imagery. There's neither scope nor time for settlements. What you have now is what you'll hold forever and I wish I could say that you were a part of my scavenged dossier but I've sifted and even hunted in my last few bargained hours, but I found nothing. It's like you never existed. Just as well. 


Give me a lie, and I'll live it. Give me a robe and a fancy hat, and I'll don it. Give me a piece of paper and blood instead of ink, and I'll scribe it. Give me frivolity and I'll find a way to conjure short-lived beauty, peace and purity. Give me a pounding heart, and I'll pretend like I never heard it. 


This is us, old with no recourse to the past. What we have now is all we'll ever have. If you look at it through many rose tints you'd find it perfect and that's the best way to look at it. But if you dare lighten the shades...


You find one place that you hope will let you forget and forgive and forgo. But if you carry all your baggage on your arm, up-sliding into your heart, seeping into your nervous system, and igniting dangerous cells, you can't expect even paradise to set you free. I've seen heaven and I've seen hell and I've seen them simultaneously. The worst part of not having a time lag between witnessing the two, is finding each equally mesmerizing and tempting. The two feelings rendering you unfit for either. When you get sucked into a roller-coaster ride of promise and hope and dejection and failure, you start enjoying the feeling of each. The loss that comes after the highs and the euphoria after the lows. 


All you had to do was ask. But you wouldn't. All I had to do was tell you. But I didn't. All that ever needed to be done, was untying the cruel knots that fate decided to put in the ropes that at some point would tow us back to each other. Maybe they're still not bad enough. Maybe 10 years later. Maybe not. I hate not knowing. But knowing would make me God. 


You're not mine. But I'm yours. And if that's not cruel, what is? 

Now.

I dare you to move.


What do I do with you if I know you're soon going to be another myth in my treasure trove? Can I quickly steal your essence and hide you in the darkest corners of my heart where not a single clock, a cruel bearer of time, be able to find you? Or take your soul you lent me for a day and pretend like you never gave it when you ask for it back. I could cheat I guess, into making you believe what I believe (because it's all make believe anyway), or keeping us hidden from the musical notes that slowly but methodically change our song to something that you eventually won't recognize. But I won't do it. Shockingly, even after all this time, I still have a nagging conscience. Hate that thing. 


I could write endless stories about the inevitability of heartbreak, but what do you do when your soul crushes to an irreparable degree. What do you do, when your family, your friend, your love, your habit, your mind, your soul-- threatens to get up, with only so much as a single warning, and simply walk out of your state of being. If there's one thing that's worse than actually being crippled, it's the thought of its pending arrival. And so you leave me hanging, until I pull the chord. Until I do it to myself.


Of course in that game I played with fire, I won a lot of lotteries, but what I also thought I'd win was the Jackpot that mattered to me the most. The one that all the other players ridiculed. But for the sheer desire of it all, I lost. I thought mine would be a white horse, turned out it was shining, molten brown with streaks of jet black. I was told, I'd still worship him, like I would a white. And nobody would understand it.


So here I am. And there you are, from where I can conveniently worship what was meant to be mine so forgive me if I'm still a bit insolently stubborn about letting it go. And there everyone else is, neither understanding, nor comprehending. The soothsayers had their way. But there's so much more to this that is making it almost, almost impossible for me to wrap it up in a neat bundle and not let a single tear stray.
You're lying to me even now. You can't lie to me as much as you can lie to yourself. And I watch you with a sad smile while you still try so desperately to rationalize, to tell yourself more than tell me, that it's the right thing to do. That things must go the way as they have been pre-ordained. They have to. Or nothing will make sense, there will be no order. And that's why we can never really meet. Because I rejoice in every little grain of disorder. In every antithesis wherever there's a thesis. In every broken barrier in an organization. In every revolt against a structure. In every fallen leaf where there's a tree. In every love against hate. 


It would have made no sense to you nor would the spell have lasted for very long if I ran away at break-neck speed. But I needed to slowly withdraw, to make you notice, excruciatingly, what I was doing. I do not know if it tears you as much as I think it does, but if I'm right and it does, all you have to do is call me back while I'm here. While I'm still recuperating. Because when the healing process is over, somebody will snatch me away. And I say this not out of any overconfidence or smugness that you may so easily attribute it to. But out of fear. 


Save me before your armor refuses to dispatch any knight-like qualities to you anymore. I'm ordinary, but soon you will be too. But if you save me. I'll be able to save you too. 


I love you. 

Across The Universe.

What if the world really were to collapse this year? All our lives, simultaneously, cease to exist? Our death anniversaries, coincide? Would you be satisfied with what you've woven into the world thus far? Of course, to achieve that would be ideal and therefore, utterly impossible, but do you think you could leave things as they are? Or shift your gear to number five and finish all that you think you were meant to do? My questions are a way of delaying the answers I don't have. Whether or not this debate of 2012 being the year of our doom gets resolved (I have a feeling we will be in 2013 by the time it does), aren't we always advised to live each day as if it were our last? Carpe Diem and all that jazz? Realistically, keeping a provision for contingencies such as bad hair days, mood swings and PMS, why don't we instead try living this year as if it were our last? 


Through a roller-coaster-cum-maze my life has been in just (wait for it) two decades of its completion, I think I'd like to pick my last year as one that (I know you're expecting peaceful and saint-like) is the scariest and most unexpected ride of my life! Because what fun would it be otherwise? I've spent afternoons in dingy, musk-smelling bars with anticipation of where the evening will take us. In alleys trying to distinguish our breath from the smoke. In comfortable hand-me-downs, with an excuse of a winter, relishing warm tastes. In yellow-blacks, entangled beyond comprehension. In the lives and minds of others because nobody has left anyone a choice anymore. In Ford Fiestas. In a place that tries excusing itself by adopting a happy name but that doesn't rule out the memories it gave me that make me cringe, even today. Taking a full year break and then coming back to a life I always used to know. To people I love (even though some of them I don't like very much, but I still love). To the horrible, horrible, horrible inevitability of growing-up. To prospects of magnanimous success or stupendous failure, both equally exciting and fear invoking. To finding love, losing love, and then not knowing what love really is. 


But I do. You have to be selfish even when it comes to one of the most selfless concepts in the world. It can be love if it's one-sided, but it cannot be ego. It can be love if the balance is tipped to a 70:30, but it cannot be self-esteem. It can be love if you give all he asks for and never the other way around, but it cannot be healthy. It can be love if you've roughed all his troughs but never been the one he looked for during the crests, but it cannot be friendship. When you realize what you're worth is really a lot more than that, and when the realization hits you if there's even ONE person by your side to tell you that you're doing the right thing and that you're going to make it, you're going to make it. And here I am.


Something changed in me the night of the beautiful lights, an open sky, the grains of sand that I could feel, each and every one of them as distinct as if they were many times their real size, and the unconditional love that was coming to me from all directions and the love that was emanating from me. The night we welcomed the new year in Paradise. All this while we'd been labeling the feeling as ecstasy, when what it really was, was not a feeling, it was a state. A state of contentment. And of security. I had my backbone that night (R), and my eyes(N). But when I thought about it a little more, a few kilometers away, I just as well had my mind(S), left-hand(A), right hand(A), my two feet(P) and heart(S), safe and sound. And I wasn't apologetic about any of them.


Take these away and you'd think I'd be rendered inconsequential. But my soul is unique, and mine alone, and when the world (or the world as I know it) ends, it will know what to do, it will know who to tell, it will know what to tell, somehow it'll know.


So I have a picture in my head where boy meets girl, boy kisses girl, and the world could happily end at that very moment, because it's the simplest and sweetest kiss in the world... And sometimes that's all you need. 


This is late, but do have the happiest new year. :)

The Enemy.

I fucking hate you.


For being the first post on this blog and the 50th. 


Thank you to everyone else that I can only muster adoration for. Overlooking content, 50 is a good number. 


Cheers. xx


- The Frozen Flame is now melting and nobody can save it. 

Torniquet.

"I learned to live, half a life

And now you want me one more time"- Christina Perri

You get inside of me and drain the life out of me.

You leave venom in my bloodstream.

You reduce my sanity to nothing.

Your ego beats mine and I can't even put up a fight.

But you always come back.

You come back to place me back on my high horse you so carefully constructed. 

You come back to wipe my tears.

You come back once you're scared you hurt me.

You come back, because you always know you hurt me.

You come back to plant a kiss.

But then you tell me things you really shouldn't be telling me.

You tell me you've loved me before I knew what it really even meant.

You tell me that all the things that happen around me, happen only because you make them.

You tell me I haunt your thoughts from early mornings to late nights.

You tell me you can't breathe without our daily fight.

You tell me you love me without the glow that surrounds me.

How you could even muster a love like this one is beyond you.

This is beyond me and it's beyond you.

You said you weren't coming back but you did.

You always want to disappoint me but you don't. You can't.

And you hate yourself for it and love me for it.

I don't know which I hate and which I love.

I don't know how long we're in it for but it's going to leave us both lifeless, of that I'm sure. 

I need to see you to feel normal again.

But when I do,

I'm going to come back home with blood-stained cheeks for where tears should have been. 

And a smile that reaches my soul. 

Loser.

"If I've been on your mind,

You hang on every word I say,

Lose yourself in time,

At the mention of my name,

Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close,

And have you tell me, 

Whichever road I chose, you'll go?" -Adele

Most times I don't even know who the culprit is. Which one of us is contorting reality and dreams and concocting a bottomless pit to trap the other one into, not necessarily out of spite, and which one, pretending to be the victim, is resisting every little bit of this, somewhat possible without self-destruction, alliance. 

But even in those briefest of moments where I can figure out the roles played by each of us in this convoluted yet such a simple way of life that we've temporarily chosen, I fall face flat because every lead in this 'investigation' hits me, and each time more forcefully, with the realization that we're both equally the criminals as well as the victims in this suspense. 

Who is to say which one of us found whom. Maybe you made me catch on to the trail you so carefully left behind, or maybe, I lured you straight out of hiding because I knew exactly what you were looking for and exactly what you chose not to see. Knowing your target's strengths and weaknesses always made you that much more cautious, that much more powerful. We both knew each others, so then again, who is to say, which one of us was chasing and which was running. Who is to say, who caught up first. 

This wasn't meant to sound dirty, and conspiratorial. I hold you so close to me that now I enjoy a smugness to do with buying your time, or your energy, love or care. I know that you do too, a lot more than you let on. Then where did I get involved in something that forces me to say that I'm 'In too deep.' I checked the depth before I stepped in. It was nowhere close to drowning levels, but now I'm not so sure. 

I checked the weighing scales too, they were fair and not tampered with. Then how is it that in no time my side is tipping heavier? How is it that you keep unburdening your side? That shouldn't be allowed. If you're developing baggage, why don't you let me see it? Why do you have me under the impression that I'm the one that needs to be saved? When actually I'd much rather save you. 

When we kissed today, it was a lot slower than it should be permitted. It was like you didn't want to stop, like you were gathering every sensation that you could while it lasted. So who decides how long it lasts? You, of course. You say that you're scared of how intimate we are, while we're soaking up the warm sun right across from the dazzling sea, the same one that belongs to the entire city, but somehow uniquely belongs to you, after hours of only soaking up everything we could of each other. Like it would be the first and the last time that we could give and take so much without a soul watching, listening, intruding. I laugh and say it's because of my warm personality that you've never done this with anyone else before. You don't contest that.

We're interlocked in a very fitting way. You make me whoever you want to make me whenever you want to, without changing the essence of me. And I enjoy these escapes from me. Especially because I can remember these experiences that almost seem like out-of-body ones. Sometimes what would work best would ensure that I could take you someplace else too, and I get the feeling that I already do. But it scares you to admit that I have the power to do that. And the novelty of this all scares you out of your skin, and I can see it while I'm watching you watch me. It's unnerving but I'm filing these memories away because something tells me it's all I'm going to have left of you. And it's not much. But it should suffice. 

Nothing would have to change this if it wasn't what you were set out to do, and what I should be setting out to do. So just in a few weeks, I'm going to lose something special, something beautiful and something I didn't think I would ever have, only because it's so free of the shackles that usually accompany something so pristine. And you know what the worst part is about losing something that's like home to you? The fact that you know exactly when you're going to lose it and even worse, that you're going to be putting away the next decade of your life on hold just waiting for it to return. After all, it's home.

TickTockTickTockTickTock...