You.
My personal hell.
Category Archives: life
This is what you are.
Sometimes you’re not home to people.
You’re not where they’ll find the smell
Of bread, fresh out of the oven, welcoming them.
You’re not the warm bed that beckons them
On a cold wintery night.
You’re not this and more.
Because, you are the wilderness,
Where all things wild grow,
Where the brave will venture out to seek you,
Where the urge to be with you will be so
Strong they can’t resist.
Sometimes, you’re not home to people,
And that is really okay,
Because, you are an adventure so glorious
No four walls can hold.
Things that matter.
I write about things that matter,
Like the earthworms that step out of the planters and unintentionally die,
Despite all my attempts to save them,
Or that silly girl Daisy Mae, who is actually a beautiful black raven with the most distinct caw.
I rarely write about rains because that’s what everyone does.
But no one is willing to write about the serene sadness that grows within,
When the first drop of water hits your face.
No, not me.
For I write about things that matter,
The pigeon cooing outside my window, looking for food for its babies,
The bougainvillea that fought against all odds to survive,
The greatest metaphor for life right there in my balcony.
So believe me when I say that I write about things that matter,
Because I inadvertently end up writing about you.
If I Died Today.
If I died today I wonder what people will say.
Will they whisper how I died broken hearted,
Or will they speak about how I was trying to make the best of this life?
Even though I stumbled and fell way more than I could manage to pick my self up.
Will they speak kindly about the things I never saw or click their tongues and say, she was a fool,
Always believed in love, silly to a point.
Will lovers past and present (wait let’s rephrase that. Lovers from the past, there really is no present, remember I’m dead and gone) remember me with fondness?
Will the love that once threatened to bloom everything it touched make them smile at my mention?
Or will they smirk and say, well, she got what was coming?
And will you, remember me with a sadness because of all the memories that we can never make and a joy for having known me?
Will they wonder what happened to my dying bougainvillea and ask a friend if I managed to save it, or will they say, man she had a garden the size of her heart?
You must know I loved with all my being and I know that was the single most stupid thing I did, but it was also the bravest.
I didn’t save people from a burning bridge, but I saved myself in more than one way,
And that is all that matters.
Remember me or don’t if the memory is too painful.
Either way, I will always love you.
If I died today, I wonder what people will say.
Don’t mourn me when I’m gone
What is the point, I’d like you to ask yourself,
Of crying over spilt milk or mourning when I’m long gone?
Wouldn’t life be bearable to just clean up the spill, make sure the floor isn’t sticky and go about your day?
I could tell you that you should’ve been more careful, but it’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it?
So why then would I remind you of how you should’ve been present and in the moment when I was a living, breathing mass?
You could’ve cut the distance, broken down the walls and built bridges,
Not that they would fix things immediately, but at least you wouldn’t find yourself here, unable to hold back tears as the void I leave stares back at you.
You couldn’t do what I yearned for in living,
So don’t and I’m begging you,
Don’t mourn me when I’m gone.
Already done.
The trees are all bent,
The wind is howling over,
The storm is yet to come,
But the damage is already done.
I offer you peace but you give me conflict,
I bleed my heart out, but yours is running dry,
The battle cry hasn’t been given yet,
But your guard is already up.
The soldiers are ready,
The Cavalry is on guard,
The war hasn’t started yet,
But the bloodshed is already done.
Darling, I never meant to start a war.
But now I’m going to end it.
Security.
You thought we could be friends
After all that we’ve been through.
But I need to survive,
So how could I ever betray myself and befriend you?
Living dead
We don’t just bury the dead.
Sometimes those alive are laid to rest too,
In ways that we never thought we would.
Some days we bury their thoughts,
Unbearably beautiful, warm hands that kept yours safe.
Other days we bury their photos,
Unable, unwilling to delete them.
On others we dig deep holes and drop their words,
Their love and smile always follows.
Some days we bury our lives spent together,
But on most days, we quietly bury ourselves.
Times like these
Dear You,
Life is messy, stressful and downright difficult. But it’s incredibly beautiful too.
So when you’re in a slump and the skies are all cloudy and you can’t see a single damn star,
It becomes imperative to shine brighter for yourself.
Cut yourself some slack, give yourself a break,
Take a deep breath and set that weight aside.
You don’t have to ignore it forever, but you sure as hell can set it down for one day.
When you’re stronger, revisit it and take all the decisions you’re supposed to,
But today, you must rest.
Stay another day.
Dear You,
I’ve been meaning to tell you that things are going to be okay. Maybe not the way they used to be, perhaps not the way you once wished it would.
But, you are going to be okay.
I don’t know if everything will work out in the end, but I know that you’ll be fine.
The scars from your battles will be gentle reminders of how you survived your worst nights. You will painfully remember that Saturday evening when you boarded the flight, without a single shard of hope.
But you’ll also remember how you made it to your destination.
Life is hard. The lows are somehow entrenched in our memory, while the highs seem so fleeting.
But if you’re breathing,
And your heart is beating,
And your brain, lungs and every other part is functioning well,
Then you’ll survive this, no matter how times in the past you fell.
And if it’s getting difficult please remember this.
Everything comes to an end.
Good, bad and life.
yesnobutwhy 