Life Is A Funny Thing.

I went to the 9/11 memorial plaza today.
And I wept.
I wept for all the people I didn't know.
I wept for Todd Russell Hill, who'd left the house on that fateful morning not knowing that he would never see home again.
I wept, despite the fact that I was 5 when it happened and I had no idea why mama was staring at the TV screen crying, watching in disbelief as the plane collided with the second tower leading it to crumble on live television, while dada made frantic calls to our family here.
I wept because none of the victim's family members deserved the wretched horror and grief that comes with losing a loved one.
Or a hole as big and wide as the north and south pool with all the names of the lives lost, constructed where the buildings fell.
I wept because none of these thousands of names engraved in stone, like the memory of that day in our souls forever, deserved what they got.
I wept because I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to do something. I needed to do something.
But apart from staring into the black hole in the middle of the pool wondering where  it lead, I could do nothing else.
So I let my tears join the water that flowed with the souls of all those thousand innocent lives.
I'm not American.
I didn't lose anyone to the falling of the Twin Towers.
But I wept.
Because human beings. People. Loved ones...they all died that day.
And they still haunt what is now a memorial site for tourists to take pictures and say that this was where all faith in humanity was broken.

Life is peculiar isn't it? Not knowing whether you'll see the crack of dawn, or the sun as it sets. It's marvelous, to live everyday like it's your last, because truly you won't live the same day again. You won't love the same way, or the same person again. You won't believe the same stories retold again.
YOU will never be the same person you were the previous day.

It is marvelous, yes. But oh so haunting.

Smile. Laugh. Love. Do it all while you still can. 
Make every day count.

It might very well be your last. 

This Is Why I Love You.

It is a simple thing, really. Loving you.
It is easy. Or so I think.
I say this, because I now associate loving you as a part of who I am.
As a part of what makes me, me.
Like breathing.
Nothing can go wrong, as long as my existence thrives on the very existence of who you are to me.
The knowledge of that calms me. Gives me peace.
The knowledge of that, of your existence intertwined with mine, breaks me down. Pulls me back, every time I'm close to letting you go.
This is why I love you.

Love, regardless of what others see, isn't easy for me anymore.
Love is a leech that I have tried time and time again to peel off my skin.
But it doesn't matter with you.
What love does to me doesn't matter when it comes to you, because it makes the harshness of the pain,
and the suffering seem mundane.

Even in the darkest part of my heart, you see light.
Even when I'm too lifeless to believe in miracles, it's your presence that proves me wrong.

This is why I love you. Not because I have to. Not because I want to.
But because I see no other way out.
Because the emotions you ignite with words as simple as a greeting, are enough to feed my hungry wretched soul.
They are enough to bring my being salvation.
This is why I love you.

You are my calm. You are my storm.
You are my burning star.
You are my steady flame.
You are the chaos that dwells within me.
You are the familiar voice that sings me to sleep.
You are the air my lungs yearn for, so as to not choke.
You are the reason my emotions have a death grip hold on my throat.
You are the fuel that starts the fire.
You are the fire.
You are the song that'll bring me home.
You are Home.

This. This is why I love you. 

Lost & Lonesome.

My being has begun to lack the ability to feel passion for all the inspiration around and that scares the living daylights out of me.

Sunsets & Silhouettes.

"So till the morning breaks, go and make your mistakes. Don't be surprised if your heart hurts."

He Would've Had It All.

He would've had it all. All that he'd never had but always desired. A beautiful girl that possessed his heart. A family to look forward to, to build, to care for, to love. He would've had it all. Every single thing, whether unimportant, or of the highest significance. Whether it was her warm smile or the feel of his heart as it swelled up with pride at the mere feeling of being beside her for the rest of forever. This was what he'd wanted all along. He would've had it all.

He deserved it, he knew. He would've had it all and he deserved every bit of it. After everything that he'd been through, he deserved to be happy. After losing not one, but two epic loves. Two losses combined with the grief of losing his humanity. He'd spent so long, thinking the problem lay within him, coursing through his veins. He was toxic and he couldn't be controlled. After all that darkness and cruelty that he'd encountered, he deserved a shot at this dream. He would've had it all.

She gave him a choice, and said to choose wisely. She urged him to think not with his heart, but with his head. And he did just that. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter because both his heart and head were positive that he belonged with her. However frightening the possibility of that sounded. He would've had it all. This love consumed him. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life. No matter what, he would always choose her. And he would never give up. He would've had it all.

He heard her say her vows, He would've had it all choking up every now and then.
He would've had it all. He saw her features abruptly shift from innocent bliss to a mask of horror and pain. He would’ve had it all.

He watched He would’ve had it all in utter disbelief as the red slowly spread from her abdomen where she carried inside her not one, but two fluttering human entities- his joy, a symbol of their love- staining her white wedding dress. He would've had it all.

He would've
He...
He catches her as she crumples and falls forward and he cradles her in his arms on the floor of the altar. People told him he would remember this day. That it would etch itself into his brain, never leaving. They said this would be the most beautiful day of his life. Of her life. Of their life.

Instead the universe, cruel as it is, gifted him with grief to last an eternity.

He would've had it all.

Don't Forget to Remember.

Do you remember that girl?
That girl who believed that one inevitable day she would shine?
Do you remember the dreams that she nurtured and nourished, one seed of faith at a time?
The ones she was told never to give up on?
Do you remember the conscious efforts she put in, in making sure that hope and despair never learned each other's name?
Do you remember the ones that brought back who she was without the slightest hint of judgement in their ways?
The people that incessantly reminded her of her aspirations?
Or the warmth that she radiated, despite being in the midst of her darkest days?
Do you remember that girl who believed one day she'd fly away?

You do?
Good.
You don't?
Maybe you should.
Now hold onto those memories.
Hold onto them and believe in them with everything you have.
This.
This, is where you want to exist.
Right here.


Forever.

Frozen.

I sit at the window of my New York apartment. Sunlight quickly fades as it is replaced by the signs of night bringing in the first flecks of snow. Storm clouds gather on the horizon and you can see them make their way towards the city. The smell of dampness in the atmosphere is almost unmistakable. That is if, like me, you are a fan of the rain and the snow. The earthly scent that wafts through the air as the first drops begin to fall, is almost intoxicating. I know there will be a storm tonight. One that this city has never seen before. But the question that eats at me is- will there be more than one? One that my heart has never experienced before?

When I came clean with mum, dad and Julian about what I was to do, what I'd been thinking about doing for a while now, they seemed less surprised than I anticipated. Maybe they accepted this of me, sooner or later. I never quite could be held down. But this was more than that. More than just wanting to be free. It was Christmas Day. I'd been home for the holidays and I had decided that if I didn't tell them now, I never would. Family and friends were going to be arriving soon so I figured better now than later, what with Uncle Charlie belching out drunken 'Thank you's' and 'Sorry's' for punching Uncle Steven during Senior Year, and sleeping with his girlfriend. Also, this was something I had to do face to face. I couldn't just brush it off with a phone call to each of them. It wasn't that simple. They deserved to know in person and from me. I owed them that much. Jules was the most supportive. My brother has always had my back with our parents. Even if it was something he didn't agree with personally. It often occurred to me that despite being a boy, he was the more level headed of the two of us, but the decision that I'd made now, only evidenced it further.

My parents in spite of lacking surprise were not so generous in their words and opinions. "You're ruining your life, Jane!" Dad accused as he waved a dead chicken that he'd just cut up and brought from the farm, in my face. I took that as his 'not so subtle' way of being symbolic. "Don't throw away what you have over a "feeling," baby girl. These whims come and go." Mom said, as she looked at me almost pitifully. But how could I explain to them that this wasn't just a 'feeling.' It wasn't like I'd woken up one day and like a chameleon changing color, decided to change my whole life.  This 'feeling' had been emptying my soul and killing me slowly, mercilessly. Telling me that I'd gotten so used to the ordinary that I was terrified to come out of it. This 'feeling' is what had me waking up in a cold sweat every night. This 'feeling' is what brought me down to my knees and compelled me to sought God for help. This wasn't just a 'feeling.'

The key in the hole and the sound of the doorknob as it turns is what snaps me out of my reverie. The storm has begun, the snow hitting heavy on the window pane. Manhattan is a blur now, having been enveloped in a curtain of rain and mist. A bolt of lightening flashes as I look up to see him make his way towards me, his hair a tangled mess of snowflakes, raindrops and perfection, clothes soaked to the tee, and that big glowing smile on his face. The smile that had got me entangled in all of this in the first place. The smile that calmed my fears effortlessly. The smile that I would now snatch away from him forever.

He takes his shirt off as he draws closer and everything around me stops. I want to picture this moment. This final moment, before the storm hits in full swing. This moment where everything is okay. No pain. No grief. I want to remember it forever, keeping it safely locked away in the back of my mind. What happened? I ask myself. Where did it all go wrong? And the thunder lets out a slow growl, as if to answer my thoughts. "These storms are so unpredictable" he says, as he takes my hand and plants a kiss on my forehead. "It was such a perfectly fine and ordinary day in the morning."  

Perfectly fine and ordinary. 

I breathe him in as I take one last look. One last attempt at cementing everything about him in my memory. Every angle of him, the feel of his arms, his hands, the way he laughed, those random tickle wars, the way his brow furrowed when he concentrated too hard, the way he looked in the morning- in all his tousled haired glory, the texture of it, the way he took his coffee, the way his lips tasted, the tiny scar just below his Adam's apple, in the hollow of his collarbone, and his eyes. His brown burning bright eyes. They notice me stare, and he falters looking directly into my own auburn ones. He always knew how to read me like an open book.

You don't love him anymore, Jane. Let go. 

"We need to talk" I say, as I see- and feel to my bone- that glowing smile fade away. "I'm leaving you. I want a divorce."  
The storm cries out, as we sit there.
Frozen. 
Just like we've been all these years.