Three's crowd...

The shadows on the half dark walls seem to want to tell me something... Is it panic?Get in before it's too late, start swimming before you're left alone on this island, change yourself before history repeats...
When the obvious starts murdering your hopes and life gets too real, the blood in your body, draining towards your feet doesn't seem like a symptom of a crush.
It is the unmistakable sign of despair, creeping in on a cool summer morning, the pain of sleepless nights, not in the throes of unrequited love but the sudden fear of being too late.
Or worse, not reaching there at all...

How long?

How long does it take for laughter to die away?
How long does it take for a good day to end?
How long does it take for fear to creep in?
How long does it take to drop a tear?
How long does it take to feel the pain?
How long does it take for insecurity to show up?
How long does it take to feel undeserving?
How long does it take to feel ugly?
How long before that knowing smile comes up, that bittersweet smile of acceptance of the fact that some things never change?
I knew it all along... How long before it sinks in?

I quote...

"There's a moment in life where you can't recover anymore from another break up.And even if this person bugs you, 60% of the time, well you still can't live without him.And even if he wakes you up everyday by sneezing right in your face, well, you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses..."
-Julie Delpy in 'Two days in Paris'.
:)

Broken promises

Weather: Raining heavily after an extremely hot day. Preceded by a dust storm which left my already dusty room a little more dirty.
Beverage: Self made tea, a little on the sweet side.
Background music: 'Hazaaro Khwaishein Aisi' (Picked it randomly, mind you!)

Can I be more compelled to write?Unless I was in some really beautiful European city with a glass of red wine and violins playing in the background, I don't think so.

I realised
A few seconds late
That the part of the song I had been waiting for
Was already played.
The part of the song
Reminding me of you,
Reminding me of our initial conversations
Over missed out lectures
And a can of Mountain Dew
Passed by,
In moments
When I was far too busy,
Thinking about us...
Life got a little ahead of my memory
The part I waited for
Slipped by
In seconds of unintended reverie...
You see, love
The part I waited for
Has already been played...

P.S- It is so bad, I might kill myself.

The crushing realisation of being wrong is somehow worse than the indignation of being wronged...

My last word

I had promised myself I wouldn't be the one to get hurt at the end of all this.But promises are meant to be broken, even if they are made to oneself.I think I've reached a point in my life where I just let things happen to me and I feel control-less, even of the trivial details.Hangover?Still trying to hold on to him?In love with his 'idea'?Too disappointed that he dint turn out the way I expected?Yes, to all the questions.I can't believe I was trying so hard to make him a part of my life somehow.Just the thought that he'd be there in my life; as a tour guide when I visit his hometown, the most drunk guest at my wedding, the brother you could borrow money from and not feel guilty, the sympathetic ear you could call up in the middle of the night and talk about your latest failed relationship, the hard hitting practical advisor telling me to get real, just being there in the background of my monochromatic life, waving with a satisfaction that it's all good.Was I expecting too much?Maybe, I've been guilty of that several times.But why does life always want to remind me that I need to be real?Can I not dream and hope and live in my world of romance?Do I have to wake up to face the facts?Fact is that, right now even though I seem indifferent and angry, I'm deeply hurt and sad.I've been unable to move on with my life.To face the prospect of my life without him in it is crushing me with each sunrise.The fact that every stupid thing that I see or hear leads me to a memory of a conversation I had with him.The fact that those inane conversations meant so much to me and nothing to him.The fact that there aren't going to be any more conversations.The fact that I feel so pathetically vulnerable and seeing him smile, so unbothered, kills me with a slow patient pace. Facts?Oh yes, they're right on the table.But am I fool if I choose not to hurt my sensitive palate and opt for fantasy instead?A fantasy where he comes up to me to surprise me with a sweet gesture or says with a straight, honest face that he'll make it up to me somehow; a fantasy where he'll smile his wicked smile and I start singing 'I'll be alright' in my head.It seems so silly, innit?But then again, he liked silly...
P.S-1)I'll always remember his voice.
2)I think I'm much better now.
3)No, it wasn't love.
4)Ten posts on him and I'm finally calling it quits.My new muse, where art thou?

A bus, a train...
Things used for transport?
Exam results...
Things that always go bad?
Approval, acceptance...
Things you complain your mother never gave enough of?
The rain on a hot, summer day...
Things that never happen when you really want it?
A phone call, a text message...
Things that I don't get very often?
The day he's going to come and talk to you again...
Things that I wait for!


Touche, you dumbass.