Friday, 18 January 2019
Thursday, 17 January 2019
Friday, 11 January 2019
Sunday, 6 January 2019
Saturday, 18 August 2018
Probably we have never talked or met. I don't know your story. I don't know what you are up to. I don't know what you do, or where you live, or anything else about you.
But I know, when night dawns upon the earth, you let out a heavy, tired sigh. You think you are all alone. Days are long, and you get through them somehow. It's not like you don't have friends, you do. But there's a lot inside you that they have no idea about. You are all smiles throughout, and you don't brush away the chances you get to socialize. You're always in. But it tires you, doesn't it? Being around people who know you, and yet somehow don't. They know the pretty face of you: the smile and laugh and all that you show. The mask, yes, that's all they know and they have no idea there's more to you. But you know, it isn't their fault. You don't show it, because you think they won't understand. Or because you feel it's a super big deal, letting someone inside your little shell.
Your shell: where you are you and no one else exists. A place where you drift off at times during the day, zoning out of your life. Your happy place. And even though you are alone there, you don't feel so. But being surrounded by people all day? Yes, that's what loneliness feels like. You have already decided to struggle. One day at a time. To fight against-
You. You are whom you fight against. You are your greatest friend, and your worst enemy. You are what makes you happy and you are what deprives you of it. You are strange, you think. You don't fit into this world, this world that never stops. You don't talk about what you feel because you think it'll make you feel it even more. So finally when the day is over, you sigh not because you didn't have a good one, but because the struggle for today is done. There's a new day tomorrow, new sunshine, new... A new struggle. It's tiresome, it drains you out.
Nights are peaceful, aren't they? The world slows down, quietens down, and you are your company. At times, you grieve and cry and let it out, but the others, when you yourself have no idea of what you feel, they're the hardest ones. Numbness surrounds you and you don't know what to feel. You make up poems and songs and sketches and try to create something in the form of art because that's what you do. To let things out, to free yourself from the burden that you have on your heart. You create art.
People even appreciate it but they don't know the wounds that you reveal through your art. There are some people who even think that they have you all figured out, and why wouldn't they? You don't show the depth of your feelings to them. People who are your friends, are not really friends, they're mere acquaintances because you're too scared to let anyone come close to you. You listen to what they talk and what they vent but you never say a word about yourself. It's all just inside.
You think nobody knows you. But you're wrong. I do. I know you.
Monday, 25 June 2018
She had a twinkle in her eye, the kind you'd not notice unless you stare into it. Standing alone, she clutched a book in her hands: holding it against her chest, almost hugging it. In the crowd of thousands, she'd easily go unnoticed because she wasn't the prettiest one around, or the best dressed, or the one who'd say something mind-blowing that'd stick by you through tomorrow and even after that. In fact, she looked the exact opposite. She was unapologetic: even though she was a mess, she owned every part of it, and all her attributes simply accentuated it. Her unmade hair, her clumsy demeanor, her long-strained, sleep-deprived eyes, everything made her who she is, and I, I just looked at her from a distance as she stared into blankness.
She sighed a lot, I observed. Was she tired? Maybe, but of what? Each time she breathed, her eyes seemed to startle, yet focusing the stare into her blankness firmly. When she exhaled, her lips parted a little, almost alternatively. She stood fixated, unmoving, undecided. It was a treat to watch her though. My eyes seemed to have locked themselves on her.
Time and again, it seemed like she almost realized to have zoned out, and she'd try and come back to the present moment, but I reckon she must've drifted off too far to return to now. She looked like the one who'd be really shy in large crowds of mere acquaintances; what she craves is a soul connection. She'd look up and around oftentimes, maybe when she'd try to come to right now, but her thoughts seemed to catch up fast and grasp her back. She was lost. She was the girl who you'd easily miss out on, but once you did see her, you'd not want to look anywhere else. She had the charisma, I think she'd keep you hooked once you start a conversation with her. But would you be able to say anything when you know those eyes that are so lost right now would be looking into yours? I wonder.
She was the girl who'd go unnoticed, because you'd always hear the loudest person in the room, but in her head, I bet she has things louder than that going on, and someday she'll find people who'd be intrigued, and one day, she will be heard.
I wanted to go near her, towards her, try to get to know her, maybe strike a conversation: hear her voice. It was strange, she didn't look like someone who'd participate in a talk with some random stranger like me; but it wasn't like that. She'd gotten me hooked. I imagined me going up to her and her looking at me, her eyes throwing some magical invisible light at me, emancipating me from everything with just that one look. But I decided against it; just watching her was so pure, I couldn't taint it with reality. I looked at her for the last time, tried to capture the image of her face in my memories, and walked away.