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You will think they are outdated adults who are stopping you from following the latest hip trend.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.

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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. 

 

 

Rhapsody of romance.

Roads don’t always lead to dead ends.”

The last line i read off my favourite novel. Fairytales are just fictions engraved into our minds from the age we sleep to the mesmerising voices of our mothers reading us a bedtime story. A beautiful girl meets a prince charming who rescues her out of her misery is ludacris. False fantasies portraying the bitter world to be an eclair of romance enfolded in sincerity.

I never believed in fairytales until my life started molding into one.

Lying on the floor in a dark room, my soul had left my body once again. Wandered off to places where it could smile. My body has always had a different yet a deep connection with my soul. The soul would often leave to wander off to places it called home. And the body would shed tears in return to her smiles. It was one of those nights again, the night when my soul smiled in ecstasy and the eyes shut in despair, the night the cheeks felt every silent tear the eyes shed, the night i wanted to be saved again.

My trance was interrupted when my phone beeped. It was unusual for my phone to ring and the sound came as a surprise to me. There weren’t many people left who wanted to know how i was doing. And the ones left were probably too busy to ask.

Hey. How are you?

The message my eyes hadn’t read since quite a while. I sat up to read it and replied instantly. Who was he? Why did he message me? And more importantly, why did i reply? I did not bother to know. Maybe i wanted an escape from the silence, maybe i wanted to be heard or maybe i just wanted my numb soul to finally get a feeling.

And it felt it. Days of loitering around, questioning my own existence, my soul finally felt alive again.

The conversation began with the stranger I knew nothing about but his username. Before i knew it, i was talking to someone i had never seen. Being rebellious that night felt right for the first time. Glancing upon my phone to see if he had replied or not, continuing small talks as an excuse for the conversation to just go on and not stop. It was 4am, and i found myself in an unusual state. There is an immediate bond of love formed between the child and whom it first opens its eyes to see. I felt that exceptional love bond form between me and a stranger whose message i opened my eyes to. In that july’s midnight i was born again.

Days of being overshadowed and helplessly feeling my demons feed upon me, i felt an array of hope. I could finally take a deep breath and feel the cage of suffocation break. Our conversations continued when he asked me for my number. Promptly, i gave it without having a second thought. How could i not? He was the light i saw coming my way through the midst of a thick haze. That day i entitled him to be mine. No matter what his relationship status was. He was mine. He had to be. How could he not be my prince charming,? after all, he did rescued me from my demons. I was in love. In love with a man i knew not.

Time passed and we became the best of friends. Endless long phone calls of speaking our hearts out, craving for eachothers time and complementing eachother became a ritual we kept crawling after. Talking to him everyday bloomed my soul. I felt it grow from a bud to a complete flower along with my love for him. He conquered my thoughts and my love got relentless. I knew i was caught in my own bubble where my feelings were probably one sided, but i had lost control over my emotions. I was ready to be his damsel silently hoping for him to be mine one day and surrendered to keep my feelings to myself if i had to keep him. And i was in no position to loose him.

2 months passed, and that day came. The day i could no longer watch and hear him talk to other girls, the day i refused to suffocate under the title of his friend. The fear of him coming to me one day telling me he is in love with someone else took over and i broke down. I was helplessly in love with him. His eyes that stared right through my soul, the lips that curved into a subtle smile, the voice that got me addicted to it. Everything about him began to haunt me.

He would wake up and talk to me, comfort me throughout the day, make me feel special, make me laugh and acknowledged my existence. He’d send me his pictures throughout the day and i would keep them safe in a vault, he would tell me im beautiful as if he knew that was what i desperately needed to hear. The sense of security i had with him was unlike anyother protection.

He pulled me out of my destress, he saved my soul from being lost forever, he had to be the one who stays in the picture with me. Not the one i silently have to love from a distance. So i said it. My stomach crumpled as i wrote out every feeling to him unaware of what his reaction might be. The feeling of being lost came back and hit hard this time. I felt alone and had lost all my guts. With shattered emotions, i snug my face into my wet pillow once again and just prayed to not wake up tomorrow if i had to read anything im not strong enough to read. A denial was all i needed to give up.

The same sun rose up the next day. Pretending to act normal, the day passed like anyother. Same laughter, same smiles hiding the same emotions that kept feeding of me from the first day.

That night, stalking his pictures in my gallery i got a message from him and i read something unusual:

“I love you. Will you be mine?”

These words shoke my world. Is it real? Am i actually getting what i have been asking for? Am i really this lucky? Tears began to flow down my cheeks and i felt more alive than ever before. The cages had broken and the ice had melted. My prayers had been answered.

Fairytales do exist. It did for me. And through all this my mind kept recalling:

“Roads don’t always lead to a dead end.”

 

The last vision.

“Peace?”  She repeated the question in a rather sarcastic tone while puffing on her fifth cigarette in a row.
“This,” she answered as her voice was now calm and relaxed after exhaling out the smoke.

Teasing her brown shiny locks and biting onto her lip, she closed her eyes on the head rest while tapping her foot to the beat of music, slowly drifting away into the vision she had been getting over and over again for a couple of months. A blur sight of an unrecognizable woman bound between chains with bleeding wounds showered under steaming liquid as she screams with pain on top of her lungs. She tried to see the face on that naked body but the vision would always darken and she would just hear the echoes of her helpless cry.

Her self obsession had long before buried herself into the ashes of her fading persistence and surrendered herself to alcohol. She felt two fingers sliding on her bare thighs which pierced her out of her trance.
“Let me guess, the same dead ended, ridiculous vision,” he said, taking the cigarette out from between her fingers and puffing onto it.

She sipped onto her third shot while rolling her eyes at him.
“Easy there, you just had an abortion,”
He commented while helplessly watching her surrender to her addiction.

She lit another cigarette and picked up her bag. Flaunting her curves in black short dress, she tiptoed on to her louboutins through the club. Every trembling footstep enfolded between her pride. She managed to get in her car, turned up the stereo loud and began to drive.

It wasnt long before she began to see the same vision before her eyes. A bare woman screaming with pain the burning wounds brought to her. The ear piercing sound of her cry mishandled the stering as she lost control of her speed. Yet, unaware of her present she was drowning deep and deep into the vision drawing closer, trying to recognise her.

Her image began to get vivid as she had started to recognize the voice. Goosebumps spread through her body. Unconsciously driving, she bumped her car into a sign board which slit her throat. That moment she saw her face, her face on the bare, burning body.