Hindsight is 20/20

I’m frightened its real; I’m terrified its not. I’m torn between wanting and the knowledge of the possibility of such wanting. The good, the pain ..

It has never been like this and yet I wonder if ‘this’ can be real… it may just be my wishful thinking or two naive kids who are without a clue.
Then I think about how you.. and the way you said… oh, I don’t know!
It hurts to think but I can’t stop thinking about it.  I roll little morsels of memories in my brain, tasting each distinct flavor with my mind . I try to get the whole picture from a severed corner. A jigsaw puzzle that I keep on trying to figure out.

I don’t know what I feel. But maybe I do and I’m terrified of it. I don’t know what you feel. But maybe I do and I’m terrified of it.  
Clarity is what I seek and yet it’s so definite. Once I find it, it’ll either hurt and life continue as it aways has or, it will be the beginning of a whole new chapter of my life. I wrote to seek clarity but all I’ve gotten is even more confusion.

I wrote this a while back and never got to post it. A lot has changed since then. Well, I got my clarity and my definite answer. This is page one of my new chapter 😉


A Moment

They stood there, as still as the night,
Not speaking, barely moving.
His forehead laid on hers, light as a butterfly’s kiss.

They stood there for a moment and felt it all,
Everything they’d tried to hold back, everything they had been looking for all eternity.
They stood there, breathing the same breath,
Their hearts beating in time,
For that moment, they existed seamlessly; he did not know where she ended and where he began. And in that moment, it did not matter. It was just right.

They spoke a language that went beyond words, beyond simple emotion,
Their spirits mingled under the moonlight, dancing to the symphony that echoed on the warm night’s breeze.

‘Hello’ they seemed to say.
‘Hello but goodbye’.
Each was lost to their senses, greedily trying to take in as much of the moment as they could. The sight, the feel … the perfection . The heartbreaking perfecton of it all.

But it ended.
They took a step back from each other with one last glance to savour it all,
Then like mist, they disappeared into the night, their steps echoing in the empty street.
They never looked back.

The One I Never Loved


I stood helpless as I watched your eyes. I watched as their keen interest changed into confusion and then finally, to pain . You courteously accepted my bitter words, but that’s all it was; courtesy. For even without words, in the air I felt it; accusation.
I wished that there was another way other than hurting you.
Maybe if I could have made you forget that you had ever met me then you’re heart would not ache for what it had never known….if only I could.

What reason did I have not to feel as you did? I just … didn’t. The weight of your emotion stacked against the emptiness of my own was enough to poison your heart against me. Even though it hurt to lose the friend I had in you,  I could do nought but understand. I could not reciprocate your emotion but it does not mean there was something wrong with you. We’re just… different. 

Most people would have ignored that difference and tried to see where things would go but in the end, it wouldn’t pan out as hoped for. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore and trying to ignore the inevitable would be like lying to you. Like betraying you.

We’re on different paths now, probably different people as well. I could never erase what happened but if by any chance our paths happen to meet, I hope you’ll return my slight smile that the unfamiliar moment allows. If you do walk coldly by, I shall walk on with my chin in the air and swallow the tear that threatens to fall. 

Perfectly Imperfect


Perfection. We scour the earth in its wake. Each of us yearning for just a glimpse of it, thinking that its sight would quench the quivering thirst we bury within. But it doesn’t. Instead, it leads to another journey, the hunger having grown, it drives us to the edge of sanity. Reality fades into a hazy existence and in our dreams, we come alive.
‘If we only had that perfect thing’… ‘If we only had that perfect thing’…

The perfect job, the perfect house,
The perfect moment, the perfect boss,
The perfect girl, the perfect guy,
The perfect cake, the perfect flower,
The perfect body, the perfect hair,
The perfect skin tone, the perfect smile,
The perfect score, the perfect words at the perfect moment, 
If we only had that perfect thing, our lives would be …perfect? ‘

There is no such thing as a perfect life. Perfection is a mirage and can never truly be achieved. Chasing the wind is all it is.

There’s no such thing as a perfect life, but there is such a thing as a happy life. Your best memories won’t be of times when things went exactly as planned. They’ll be when everything went terribly wrong but you couldn’t seem to gasp for air as you laughed.

Why Do I Love You?


I do not love you for the words you say,
even when you say them in that special way.
I do not love you for the things you do,
the little things that would melt a girl’s heart to goo.

I do not love you for the clothes you wear,
nor for how much the ladies jealously stare.
I do not love you, I do not.
If that is to love, then on thee I do not dot.

For words shall lay forgotten in the folds of human nature,
Acts shall remain undone in the comfort of all that’s routine and mediocre,
The clothes on your back will be eaten through by the moth.
Will I then stop loving you when they all come to their inevitable death?  

But because I love you, I will listen to the words you speak,
I will appreciate all you will do.

I will love you in your hideous shorts and I will love you in your sharpest suit. 
I will love you in the summer,
I will love you through the winter,
I will love you as I laugh
I will love you as I cry.
I will love you when I  feel like I  love you, and when I feel like I don’t.
I will love you when you make me happy and when you break my heart.

Why? Why do I love you?
Because I am the moon to your sun; you make me more than a rock in the sky.

Inspired by Paulo Neruda’s I do not love you except because I love you.


Something’s wrong. Something’s ….different. I search for it in the mirror but I can’t seem to point it out. But those eyes… they hide a secret within their depth. I look deeper but they stare back blankly.

My skin feels foreign. Its not mine anymore. Its a suit I wear so that they think… I don’t know what they think. But I wear it all the same. They laugh with the suit and I feel pulled away from it all. I want to tell them, I start to tell them,but the words get stuck in my throat.
My heart? I don’t know what could be the matter with it, doctor. Its not right!! It does not beat as it used to. Its like it skipped a beat and proceeded off kilter. Its rhythm is distorted. Can you fix me, doctor? Can you make my heart beat right again?

Words fall from my lips in a jumble of incomprehensible jargon. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. It doesn’t feel like me saying it! I don’t know what to do! The words boil within me looking, waiting for release, getting hotter still. But they don’t want to talk to me anymore. Its the suit they want.
Doctor, help me. I’m not me anymore.


The Man on The Wall

Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
The wallflower sighs.  No words to be said. Even said they wouldn’t be heard. 
A blur of colour, a chorus of laughter, life breezes by. Barely glancing at the wallflower, it dismisses the lone figure and resumes its mesmerizing dance.

Hot envy settles in the wallflower’s gut. It grows into a hole, consuming from within. Empty, the wallflower yearns. He needs…something.

With the best seat in the house, the wallflower watches them. They don’t look like they are searching for something. They just … were. They laugh, they cry, they move in time to the music on life’s playlist. Even though they miss a step, the wallflower puzzles at how easily they laugh it off before catching up with the music.

From afar, the wallflower laughs as they laugh. Maybe this time, they would actually see him and not just pass him as they usually did. Involved in their stories, the wallflower feels he has become a part of something. The space inside is filled with a feeling. This one he hadn’t felt before.

So the wallflower waits to be seen, watching for the magical moment, hoping to hold on to the new feeling for a long long time.
He waits. He watches. He hopes.
He waits. He waits. He watches.
He waits. He waits. He waits.
Slowly, the wallflower concedes to the disappointment, the despair, the depression . The black cloud weighs him down. It’s difficult to breathe.

Why be when I can’t be seen?
He might as well be invisible, the wallflower thinks to himself. He might as well disappear. He closes his eyes, leans against the wall and breathes out slowly. The space between him and the wall seems to grow less with every ounce of breath that escapes his being.
Conversation dials down to silence. Their eyes are glued to the sight of the wallflower melting into the wall. As his breath leaves his body, the wallflower gives in. He has had enough.
Transfixed, they move towards the wall, where there once stood a man.
“He’s so sad” they say among themselves.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful”

The man on the wall,” they call the mural. They come from around the world to gaze into the face of sadness. They stare at him for hours. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. For what? They didn’t know. But they don’t find it. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
They’re search begins.