At some point, living in a bubble becomes overwhelmingly suffocating.
Reality then seems to be the best and only bet to breathe again.
Wednesday, 12 August 2015
Sunday, 19 July 2015
Saving Grace.
Here's the thing about self-love.
It is absolutely crucial to our soul. It is the only thing that matters. It lets us live. Self-love is what saves us from the monsters we turn into when our inner demons take over who we are-or at least who we think we are.
When you find yourself on a bathroom floor, numb from your favorite flavor of tear-stained whiskey, 3 am, with nothing but questions burning themselves into your brain...
...wondering who you are?
what the future holds for you?
where your life is going?
All these questions slowly eating away your will to survive; your will to live.
Nobody's going to be there for you. Nobody is going to hold you.
Nobody but you.
As you sit in the bathtub filled with ice cold water and scrub away at your skin, hoping to erase the feel of his hands, the stench of him all over your body, the marks of bliss he inked you with, remember this: No one can damage you the way you can damage you. No one can break you the way you can break you. So breathe.
Close your eyes and breathe. No one can save you, but you.
Self love is beautiful. It allows us to come to terms with the fact that however bruised, battered or scarred we are, we are worthy. We are capable of love and happiness. We are capable of giving it as much as we are of receiving it.
We are capable of being our own northern stars. Of shinning with the brightness of a million suns dancing together. We may not see the road ahead now, but as long as we believe we are capable, we have the potential to be whoever our hearts desire us to be.
We are worthy of one day finding a love so strong and so passionate, that it consumes us. We are capable- flaws and broken parts and all- of finding a happiness so sacred it hushes our demons, and calms our frightening fears.
We are capable of living, no matter how terrifying that might be.
But not before we allow the love that resides within us to take over.
After all, how can you expect another soul to love yours, when you yourself despise it?
That's the thing about Self-love. Its all that matters. It allows us to live.
It is our saving grace.
It is absolutely crucial to our soul. It is the only thing that matters. It lets us live. Self-love is what saves us from the monsters we turn into when our inner demons take over who we are-or at least who we think we are.
When you find yourself on a bathroom floor, numb from your favorite flavor of tear-stained whiskey, 3 am, with nothing but questions burning themselves into your brain...
...wondering who you are?
what the future holds for you?
where your life is going?
All these questions slowly eating away your will to survive; your will to live.
Nobody's going to be there for you. Nobody is going to hold you.
Nobody but you.
As you sit in the bathtub filled with ice cold water and scrub away at your skin, hoping to erase the feel of his hands, the stench of him all over your body, the marks of bliss he inked you with, remember this: No one can damage you the way you can damage you. No one can break you the way you can break you. So breathe.
Close your eyes and breathe. No one can save you, but you.
Self love is beautiful. It allows us to come to terms with the fact that however bruised, battered or scarred we are, we are worthy. We are capable of love and happiness. We are capable of giving it as much as we are of receiving it.
We are capable of being our own northern stars. Of shinning with the brightness of a million suns dancing together. We may not see the road ahead now, but as long as we believe we are capable, we have the potential to be whoever our hearts desire us to be.
We are worthy of one day finding a love so strong and so passionate, that it consumes us. We are capable- flaws and broken parts and all- of finding a happiness so sacred it hushes our demons, and calms our frightening fears.
We are capable of living, no matter how terrifying that might be.
But not before we allow the love that resides within us to take over.
After all, how can you expect another soul to love yours, when you yourself despise it?
That's the thing about Self-love. Its all that matters. It allows us to live.
It is our saving grace.
Wednesday, 8 July 2015
Life Is A Funny Thing.
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.
Saturday, 27 June 2015
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.
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.
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Lost & Lonesome.
Saturday, 9 May 2015
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.
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 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.
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