Dear Heart,
I'm sorry I've broken you so many times. Over little things like toy trucks, pretty dolls and boys. Over things I've never needed and things I would've been better off without. I'm sorry I took apart your love for life. I'm sorry I took away your smile when you needed it the most. I'm sorry I hurt you so many times, you feel afraid to get hurt again.
But it's noone's fault but mine, that I promised you so many times over that there would be so much happiness in the world that we'd be filled with warmth and joy yet all we see is cold and dry everywhere around us. Where the world forgets you are still a child, where your naivete is undervalued.
Yet, somewhere between us is a faint ray of hope, that we will survive. And it is entirely yours to hold. I've no courage to give or take. Yet leap we do. Aiming for the stars, groping in the darkness for something to hold on to. Hang on dear heart, for who do I have but you. And,heal. There is still good left in this world, and wherever it is we shall find it.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Butterflies are free to fly, Why do they fly away.
She stared up at the ceiling, silent tears streaming down her face, unsure of which way to walk. Her feet wouldn't move. Her eyes couldn't close.
The minutes froze. Her body too. Her mind clouded with a million things to say, things to scream. Curses, Prayers, Wishes and wants, but they all faded away. The mist cleared. The fog lifted. Here was too far. Here was too hard. Walk she did. Away from the melancholy. Away from the misery. So sad she wasn't. Not so deep this sorrow. Yet hurt can never be measured. Walk she did.
Into the sunset the butterfly flew,wary of the roses she left behind. For after all, if a thorny rose tore her wing - who would carry her home.
There is no end nor beginning to this silent song of time. Hence, this song plays on.
The minutes froze. Her body too. Her mind clouded with a million things to say, things to scream. Curses, Prayers, Wishes and wants, but they all faded away. The mist cleared. The fog lifted. Here was too far. Here was too hard. Walk she did. Away from the melancholy. Away from the misery. So sad she wasn't. Not so deep this sorrow. Yet hurt can never be measured. Walk she did.
Into the sunset the butterfly flew,wary of the roses she left behind. For after all, if a thorny rose tore her wing - who would carry her home.
There is no end nor beginning to this silent song of time. Hence, this song plays on.
Frankly Speaking.
Some things are strangely hard to comprehend, and one of the most convoluted things to get hold of is why we do the things we do. "As a society" is a term I fail to understand, for aren't we a bunch of microsocieties under the illusion that we are all part of something bigger? Aren't we all egocentric? then why is that a bad thing? When people talk of the harms of rat-races, exactly who steps out of them? Why do we always feel a compulsive need to be thankful to somebody else for whatever we've got? And what are philosophies for anyway? Sometimes they bring people together and at others they divide people into fragments based on every identifiable attribute.
Are ideologies basically tickets for identities? When we're all so scared to give why do we expect so much? And if god loves me, why do I have to pay taxes? If life were a test that each of us has to pass to get to heaven or hell, what's the system of grading? And if there were indeed was a multitude of Indian youth that does not believe in reservation, why're the seats filling up?
But basically, I've been wondering all my life: Why do women have to go through so much pain and suffering to look more presentable to men who barely do anything to look better. Yo! Do you know what peeling off a layer of your skin really feels like? Pain at the hands of the devil. Could any of you walk a mile in high heels? You'd die within the first three steps. Manicures, pedicures, skin treatments, facials, upper lip lower lip eyebrows, ayurvedic face pack, herbal face pack, fruit face pack, natural face pack, mud face pack,some-other-oriental-sounding-shit face pack (they all seem similar but they are all different!). Millions of shades of lipstick, lipgloss, lipliner and a million other lip things that keep getting invented every day. Perming,straightening,curling,soft curling,rebonding, permanent softening, temporary softening, my head spins at the thought of the things some women have to do. and this isn't even one tenth of the list of available stuff!
And you think it's like magic! Swoosh swish swash - pretty girl! Bloody hell!
And no woman could eat a chocolate cake or an icecream cone without thinking for atleast a nanosecond about what it would add to her weight , yet you unscrupulously gorge on everything in sight without a worry, right in our faces.
Why do women care? No really. There are fewer women in the world than men. So why do women have to work so hard?
In nearly every other species the male has to work harder at looking better, peacocks for example.
So why do women have to struggle to keep the men happy?
And then the morons go "Ille da.. Sad state da.. namma college la figures eh ille.."
Not coming for your faces.
Are ideologies basically tickets for identities? When we're all so scared to give why do we expect so much? And if god loves me, why do I have to pay taxes? If life were a test that each of us has to pass to get to heaven or hell, what's the system of grading? And if there were indeed was a multitude of Indian youth that does not believe in reservation, why're the seats filling up?
But basically, I've been wondering all my life: Why do women have to go through so much pain and suffering to look more presentable to men who barely do anything to look better. Yo! Do you know what peeling off a layer of your skin really feels like? Pain at the hands of the devil. Could any of you walk a mile in high heels? You'd die within the first three steps. Manicures, pedicures, skin treatments, facials, upper lip lower lip eyebrows, ayurvedic face pack, herbal face pack, fruit face pack, natural face pack, mud face pack,some-other-oriental-sounding-shit face pack (they all seem similar but they are all different!). Millions of shades of lipstick, lipgloss, lipliner and a million other lip things that keep getting invented every day. Perming,straightening,curling,soft curling,rebonding, permanent softening, temporary softening, my head spins at the thought of the things some women have to do. and this isn't even one tenth of the list of available stuff!
And you think it's like magic! Swoosh swish swash - pretty girl! Bloody hell!
And no woman could eat a chocolate cake or an icecream cone without thinking for atleast a nanosecond about what it would add to her weight , yet you unscrupulously gorge on everything in sight without a worry, right in our faces.
Why do women care? No really. There are fewer women in the world than men. So why do women have to work so hard?
In nearly every other species the male has to work harder at looking better, peacocks for example.
So why do women have to struggle to keep the men happy?
And then the morons go "Ille da.. Sad state da.. namma college la figures eh ille.."
Not coming for your faces.
Melancholy.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, staring out through the window and wondering. Why do we do some things even though we know we're going to get hurt. Why do we not hesitate to walk off a precipice that we know is under our feet. Sometimes I wish, there were no system, no rules, no expectations and no definitions to how we should feel. Free, I'd like to be.
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