I’m getting disturbingly affectionate with the dark, lately. In a way that makes an alarm go off in my brain every time I take a step towards the black hole of nothingness, through the shadows of the damned, holding hands with everything that’s bound to destroy what’s left of my soul. But to be honest, something about the malicious still ceases to fascinate me, filling me with the right amount of shady excitement and making me crave for more, every second through the journey. As much as I acknowledge the wrong in the sin and the consequences awaiting the sinner, the thought of it fills me up with this unexplainable warmth that I so vulnerably long for.
Before giving me that look, the look of despise and contempt, of utter judgement, ask yourself, for isn’t this something we have all encountered? Something that keeps us sane, giving us strength to hold on, amidst everything wrong in the lives of yours and mine. Isn’t it the bad in our thoughts that let us mouth the pretentious good in the face of society? For we know only of right as what isn’t wrong.
Afterall, aren’t we all just the children of an Eve who chose to be remorselessly nefarious.
Dreaming about a land where confetti boxes are filled with happiness, Hope grows from earth where seeds are sown, Where no amount of hurt is strong enough to hold on after a rain, Sugar in the chocolate’s just a synonym for joy, Dreams come true with every breath we take, A place where pain comes to bid it’s final goodbyes, A land with no past to hold us back nor future to worry about. All is well.
Constantly searching for a home in someone yet to be known, Desperately trying to avoid my own truth. When the time comes, Why do I still feel so unprepared, even now, Even after this many failed attempts?
Owing my all to all whom I hurt In the name of something far less than reality. Hiding behind shadows, Far from light. Finding comfort in things ought to be feared. An abode more disturbingly so.
Was it to not let others hear them in that dark corner of the road, or was it just not to hurt his feelings that much?
He still kept on coming closer to her, gently crushing her against that old and crumbling wall, trying to remove those hands of hers pushing him away, standing obstacle between them on that “special moment”, at least for him.
She kept shaking her head. She was confused, confused between love and love. She was confused for whether to act on the love she had for herself or to keep on feeding to the one she had for him.
She kept shaking her head. “Please baby…” still trying to keep it as soft and inoffensive as possible. She was drowning, half in fear and disgust and half, of course, in love.
“Shhhhh!” He was even gentler this time, like death creeping on through the veins of old people, slowly and unnoticeable to the naked eye. She looked at his face, his eyes were closed. He was in ecstasy. She haven’t seen him this happy around her since in the infancy of their relationship and somehow the innocence of her love for him made her senseless this time.
He kept running his fingers through her body, starting from her neck to her lips, then down to her stomach through her chest. He was high, high on lust, it was consuming his senses but at that moment, he just did not care! For he felt like ‘a real man’.
Things were a bit different on the other side. Tears dripping down her cheeks, she swallowed her screams and stood there, like a statue, pretty sure she felt like one too, and she did it all ‘in the name of love’.
“If not for him, then for whom? If this can make him happy, make him love me more…” A thousand thoughts ran through her mind and none of them could save her then. She was being betrayed by her on consciousness. She was helpless but she did not know then.
It’s interesting how the heart of a female, functions. Battles are being fought on her name, people die on her word. Her sound have the power to manipulate thousands, yet is she easily manipulated, toyed with. She grows up learning to give, her favorite things to her brother, her dreams to her family and finally, her body to some man.
Just a silly, stupid creature which just doesn’t know what she is actually capable of.
Their walk back to the main road wasn’t as hard as to when they went searching for that dark corner. No, when he went searching for that dark corner dragging her with him. Now that sounds about right! But it doesn’t make much change, does it?
He held her hand tightly and looked at her often, his eyes were shining like a master happy with his dog’s obedience, he was proud of her. His whole face was glowing.
She gave him a weak smile back. Like the dog after doing everything in it’s reach to please it’s master.
She felt weak, her whole body was shaking inside out. Each step she took, she felt it even harder to walk. She hid it all with that smile of her’s. Her whole world was trumbling down inside of her. She did not feel like herself. She couldn’t. She felt disgust,anger, pity and so much more of those unexplainable feelings one feel after doing something which you know you cannot forgive yourself for doing, not anytime soon.
But she held it all in and kept on smiling. After all, she was but a loyal dog and She made her master proud.
“So it’s goodbye then?” She asked, trying to bring a smile to her face that was so wet with the tears that kept on flowing through her cheeks, not ready to give in to the fake happy face that she was so desperately trying to put on.
Everything in his life was going wrong, but what really made him feel utterly weak was the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. He just stood there, staring at his feet, not knowing what to say, nor to feel. This was the moment that he had always most dreaded, The moment he was expected to word out what he felt, the truth, a truth that even he himself wasn’t sure what was. he wasn’t ready to part ways with her, not like this. Everything, every moment of their shared memories, every secrets that was now the two of theirs, every fights, nights, all of it came down to this very moment. He never thought hell would be this easy to find.
Their lives collided a year ago. And since then, it was a perfect work of effortless comedy. It was in the ways that they refused to define what they had, that made it exciting, rather thrilling. But somehow, the both of them knew well, but chose not to acknowledge, that the fire they played with was bound to hurt at the end.
“Well, this is embarrassing” she added, with an air of cheer, trying to hide the fact that her voice was cracking.
She liked to believe that what they had was something more than just friendship, something a little more than just some happy times. She used to look at him when he wasn’t noticing and wish that someday, this person would look into her eyes and realise, that this is exactly where he wants to be for the rest of his life. But that would be too much to ask for, don’t you think? Because sooner or later, one have to understand, that life is but one unfair game.
“I’m sorry” finally he said, drowning in the scarcity of words to make her stay. How he wished for all of this to be just a dream! And then, he glanced up and took one look at her face, one hasty look, a look he knew would make no difference now. he could see that he had lost her. Lost her to the cruelty of life, of love.
We all have in our minds the pride of being able to lead a free life. Free to choose what we want to do next, free to feel everything the way we want it to be felt. But seldom do we wonder how we actually reach at the choices we make, what actually makes us crave for certain things more than the rest. Even the decisions we take much deliberately are in some way not entirely our own. Even at times when we let ourselves choose the ‘road less taken’, to be different, or perhaps spontaneous, we end up just where the universe had planned for us to be. I think it is quite beautiful, how everything we do, even the ones done unintentionally, are just paving way towards the actual purpose of each one of our lives. And no matter how sceptical we are at the idea of it, or how unconvinced we are about the certainty of the existence of the theoretical ‘butterfly effect’, we are all nothing but a story written earlier on in some pages somewhere. Not mere characters in some bigger picture, but the story itself. A story written so carefully around the life of mine, and another around yours. That even when we all are a huge tangled mess, we cease to exist as an entirety, a detailed, complete entirety. And hence the thought of how much time and effort the author has put into each one of us makes me believe that all our stories are have so less in common. Our stories are so different, different yet so related. We are all here, drawing breath in the satisfaction of being autonomous when it comes to our lives, knowing less that whatever comes next, was already hand-picked for you and me by the author of our little stories.
For what may come, let me hold on to this for a while longer. Let me be where I am, let you stay till the end of the day. But truth to be told, I’m scared the most, will I die to be apart, to be not near the womb that still feels warm, even when does it’s no longer home. But it most certainly still feel like one. They say that I’m strong enough to overcome, but what if I don’t want to overcome? What if I don’t want to forget the sweet scent of my mother’s sweat. They say I’ll have to live no matter what, but I’m afraid that I won’t wake up, not without her hands over my forehead, gently caressing my hair, gentle enough to not cause me distress. I’m at a point in my life where I’m sure about the fact that I’m only still here for she had made sure that I don’t break my neck everytime I fall. I don’t want to think about a day where I fall and she is not here anymore, about a day not awaiting the comfort of her cozy lap. The grey in her hair spreading slowly but consistently is giving me nightmares that leave me haunted for more than just a day and The times I yell at her for nothing but of irritation towards her desperate acts of love and affection, to make me see that she’s still here, I sob a little more into my pillows at night for all the times I had to punish a pure being for it’s kindness for me. Every day passing in my calendar reminding me more often now that all this can be taken away, just like that, just so easily and there is nothing more terrifying than to be inside that box of thoughts for more than I wish to be. To be so unfortunate as of existing in a world lacking the taste of unadulterated affection of my god, my creator, my mother. For let me ask for nothing but a day less to live in a world when it will come to be cursed to function without the love of her’s.
People pretend a lot. And they do it so that the people around them like what they see. So the people around pretend to like what they see and they act accordingly so that the people on the receiving end feels the same way as how they pretend to see those people. It’s funny how this cycle of pretentiousness work so effortlessly. Really, I mean anyone can easily break this cycle by being real for once but no, the cycle goes on. Because people want people, even when they don’t actually need most of them.
