Droplets of flashbacks.

The sound of the rain drops falling onto the shed of my roof were constantly acting like little flashes. You know , the ones that come out of a camera when you take a picture. Yes those flashes. That hit your eyes and leave you blinded for minutes before you regain the proper vision again.
Every drop had a seperate flash to it. But this time not what hit my eyes blinded me but what hit my ears.

Closing my eyes and dwelling into the sound of the raindrops. Innitially slower and gradually increasing in pace, i was going places.
Places my head had locked and encaged with wires ever so tightly preventing them from dissolving in the midst of self created fantasies results of procrastination.
I felt like my mind is opening an old chest, like the one’s discovered underneath the water ages after titanic sunk, or the chests got in heir from grandparents who told you to open it on your 21st birthday and the feelings that it actually is your 21st birthday but your mind is opening it for you.

And then you hear a sound. That send shivers down your spine and cause an adrenaline rush. You feel like a little child who jumps up and down in excitement for when their present is about to open. The sound of a an old rusty lock that just clicked open.

Everything came back. Everything began to echo in my ears overlapping the sound of the raindrops. It wasnt even seconds till i could hear his voice whispering those three words that were locked and encaged by my mind as if it were protecting it. Shielding it. Acting like guards and perserving it till my last breath. For it knows, the day i lay cold with my eyes wide open, watching the angel of death decend, i would want to hear those three words again. Slower, slower and slower.

An open letter to my future daughter.

Procrastination is just a sophisticated synonym of fantasy which we, older people , use more often.

Yes, we do fantasise, just like you, even as self proclaimed mature adults.
But there is something i want to break to you as an armour for your future.
Whatever i am writing now may sound unreal to you or you may start to see me as a selfish shadow trying to look after you. But every word will speak for itself one day.

Well, turns out that the book marks you make out of crape papers and glitter glues just to restart the book from where u left off, will be a complete waste of time. Every time you flip the hard covering of the Cinderella story and smiled out of satisfaction because the bad people where caught and the prince charming appeared to give her a happily ever after. You will laugh at yourself for doing that.

You see, As you’ll grow older you’ll be reluctant at first. You’ll be irritated when an elderly makes you sit down and lectures you on life. You’ll think they are only trying to distract you from becoming the coolest girl in school, with a lot of attention from boys and girls around you. You may even becoming the worst kind of rebellion.
You will think they are outdated adults who are stopping you from following the latest hip trend. Dressing up fancy and getting dolled up with makeup is what you will admire and well, they will STOP you.

And then you will make friends, many many friends. You will come across variety of people with different mind sets. You will even meet a boy, and within a split second, he will resemble your fairytale prince charming. Everything will seem like one of those stories you used to sleep to.

And then, you’ll wake up. You will wake up from the long and beautiful dream you’ve been sleeping in for years. But you will think you’re still asleep, in a nightmare this time though. Because there will be no flower beds and glitter chandeliers. There will be no masquerade balls on crystal floors, instead there will be people who you won’t be able to recognise. They’ll seem beautiful in first glance and scary in the other. And you will probably wake up screaming, because good people will not save the world and bad people will be everywhere around you. Oh and the prince charming, he’ll ride his horse far away from you and into the woods as fast as he can. And will never look bad.
But between all this, you will lose nothing. Instead you will gain a lot.

You will gain all the super powers your heroes had. You’re mind will be more focused and sharp. You will gain confidence in yourself.
And You know what the best part will be? You will earn the ability to read people by just looking at them. Earning it by falling to you’re knees thrice or even more but you will stand up and won’t slouch anymore. You’re heart will start beating like a shield, protecting you, making you stronger. You will walk straight and aim high.
You will become an independent young woman who will write a similar letter to her daughter one day.

Emotional death.

There are those days, that occur quite often, when the known seems unfamiliar and the stranger feels unworldly. When there is that feeling of suffocation amid the constantly changing atmosphere. When thunderstorms and droughts flip over lapse and Right before your eyes, things melt with ice and freeze with fire. Stranger things just keep happening.

But you have nowhere to run because even you start to doubt your existence time and time again. The desk in your office doesn’t welcome you like it did when you first arrived, the friends you laughed with around the coffee machine seem strangers every passing day. The tea you depended your mornings on gets colder as you stare at it cluelessly.
The days when u don’t even know what you are thinking about while your tea sits on your table waiting to be sipped on. And that woman, the lady you vowed to stand by through thick and thin sleeps facing your back desperate to hear you chatter your day’s details. She snugs in her side of the bed hoping a miracle would make it feel like the day she first snugged in it. The thought that drops a tear on the pillow which soaks it up every night.

And you curse no one but time. The burdens brought in by time and age. What you don’t see is the test it beholds. These are those days that demand your attention towards the things you took for granted. Just a little attention, and before you know it, all the places, the things, the relations, they crawl back to you like they had never left.
Own the days for reluctance can drown you in the depths of despair from which there is no coming back.

Hallucinations

“This wasn’t the first time. To be honest, i don’t remember the first time at all. But I’m sure it felt sidereal. How else would i have gone this far? A major feeling of contentment and..well,contentment. A sigh of satisfaction, a pill of ecstasy, Floating on cloud 9, drifting in waves, letting lose…off all your thoughts and heartbreaks.
Huh, heartbreak, some would say sympathetically that’s what turned me into this. But i say, that’s what made me this. This superhero of my own self. Yes, a superhero is what I refer myself too. Don’t look so amused. You see, Surrendering to your desires gives you power.

Do you believe in super powers? Well, trust me , you will start to.
For instance, the reason why I ended up here, on this ugly white sheet upon which countless people might have died, i lay alive. Despite how high the fall was or how deep the water, I’m still alive.
So you see, the super power….being able to control death. “

Memory lane

My tea had an awful reminder in the first sip which drove me to places in my head which i did not want to revisit. The words and moments that had chased after me for years and which i had struggled to bury somewhere within me were all now coming back.

I think this is how it happens. This is how it works. That you fall face down to the ground with all your charms and pride while your ego stands back and watches you. And then just when you think you’re back at it, back at life and ready to face all its rantings, everything decides to peak back telling you they were never gone.

And so it happened. All those wet pillow days and sobing moments came back hitting me right where they first did. Feelings, i tell you, are not to be played with. We try to control them ourselves and when we fail at it, we happily give it up to someone else to program it their way. To command it whatever way they find useful. And we just sit back and feel the riots within us at their maximum rage. And yet we never question or blame ourselves.

That day , although, those scars on my arms said otherwise.

 

 

 

 

 

Demonic Soul

Watching her sleep was probably the best place to be in. Her face being ever so calm, like that of a child, asleep, drowned in a kaleidoscope, more of a dream. She was the most beautiful girl i had ever laid eyes on.

I doubt her being a porcelain doll if she wasnt given a soul. Rose pink cheeks , deep green eyes , lips curved into cupid’s bow.

Swifting my fingers through her hair i saw her slowly opening her eyes. Ever so excited to get her attention and Waiting for that ravishing face to turn towards me.

“Sweet heart,?” I said, to get her attention.

 

Someone looked at me, but it was not her. The eyes i would drown into felt unknown to me. The face i would never get tired of staring at was now frightening me.

I jerked my hand out of her hair, And stood up abruptly. She was staring at me. Constantly, without any gestures. Emotionless.

I watched her as she had her eyes stuck at my face. Those eyes frightened me, her face was  pale , completely emotionless. It was almost the same as watching a dead body, but a dead body blinking and looking back at you. I didnt have the guts to go close to her, neither did i want to leave the room because i knew my love was in there. And i couldn’t leave her alone. Moments like these were when i got cold feet. But as time passed, i knew i needed her more than she needed me.

The eyes that stared right through my soul, questioning me of her existence. She let her hand out towards me. Her wrists were wounded with scars of blades. She wanted me to save her. And i,

I just didn’t know what to do.