04.09.16

Feeling numb is so odd. You know you're not okay. But you're not sad either. It's just an empty feeling. First, it starts simple... your head slightly hurts and there's a throbbing in your skull. You start overthinking, you imagine non-existent scenarios. Then your stomach forms a knot and there's a tingly feeling. You think nobody cares about you. Perhaps they don't. You imagine scenarios where they do, and get disappointed. You imagine not caring about them, but you do. You start repeating mantras. Be okay without them. Be okay without them. Be okay without them. You then think up resolutions. You are your own self, be happy as you are and the rest will follow. You are born alone, you die alone. So be happy alone. Then you feel light headed. Blink. Oh someone cares. Mom. Blink. Looks like someone else cares. Checks. Ah, just someone caring about another person and wondering if you want to join them in caring about the other person. You say yes because you're happy. Then all of a sudden. It's empty. You're not sad, you're not happy. You are you. And nobody cares. But you love yourself. And that's all that matters.

He came into her life, again.
He was the monster that hid behind her. He controlled her. Her words, posture and actions and everything. He is that ugly thing people see when they looked at her. You could see that when people talked to her, they immediately looked down in horror.
His face was always covered with a gooey liquid, sometimes blood, sometimes puss. It's hard to decide what's worse.
She picks at him and pokes him till he leaves but he leaves scars in her soul and still manages to control her.
His monthly visits are the worst, as he usually brings his younger brothers. And they can never sit still.
This time, she wore her nicest clothes hoping that nobody would notice him. She left out her large voluminous hair hoping that it would hide him. But they didn't, because they never did and never will.

#Pimples

5.10.15

She hugged me with that look in her eyes. We all know that look. We have it memorized in our heads. You know, the look where the eyes get all glassy and eyelids droop down just a little, enough that it doesn't look tired but still has a sad effect. And there is neither a smile or a frown and a clay mask forms around the face. Yes, that look. Disappointment. Then she moved away and said those words, oh those terrible words, " I expected more, but its okay."

6th August. The day before.

I hate you I love you. I miss you. She kissed your nose and your face glowed red. I turned into different shades of grey and blue. I said I wouldn’t, but I did. Now your cheeks burn from the fire in your chest when she touches you, but my stained cheeks burn from the tears I cry every night.

A tear slipped of my cheek followed by more. Even my tears aren’t alone. Thunder shakes my world while sun shines in his, hers and everyone’s. I’ve become the girl that you wasted a couple months with. We spent months together? It went by a little too soon.

You are on an island, a tropical island. The sun shines, the wave’s moves like the wind, and smiles are all you see. I’ve built my bridge and faded away from this island and made my own. Here the thunder roars and bellows, rain splashes along with my tears, and I’m alone.

Now the bridge erodes as the wave’s crash into its fragile structure. Sticks hit the sea and disappear into the darkness. Forever. Sea takes over my island slowly, fast and then slows again. The hostility of the island makes me want to run back into yours and jump into your embrace. But there isn’t space for me.

You looked through me for a second. So far away that you were now the size of my fingernail. But I know. I know you were looking through me. Not at me, but through me. You saw my pain but looked at her eyes after and you smiled.

And with a swift movement; my ears were blocked with water. The sun faded and was washed over by a blue light and then black light flooded my world. 

The red spread through the water. The bubbles floating with a sensual sense of disaster. The thick liquid floating on the water hiding me from all the emotions. Faded images passed by with the time. The plug was removed clearing out the bath bomb and my mind with it. I stepped out onto the mat, and immediately crashed, the memories rushed into my mind and my head hit the cold hard ground. I stared at the tiled floor stained with my memories of our showers together and our first fight.

Minutes passed, or was it hours or seconds? His arms pulled me up. Seeing his face after six whole months felt better than heaven. His cheekbones were more visible now and that tiny scar on his cheek made my heart burn. His lips still looked like they were perfectly made for mine. I leaned in so I could taste his sweet lips.

“Not now...” 

For some reason I think I was born without a tongue. Like sure I have a pink slimy thing in my mouth made of taste buds and muscle, that's not what I mean. I think I was born without the ability to speak my notions or opinions. Sometimes I will open my mouth but nothing comes out. Someone stole my car radio. Someone stole my speaker. Someone stole my television screen. It's like someone knew I had crazy thoughts and a mind that thought too much and reached unknown depths and so they stole it.




Just weird ramblings :P 

2nd April 2015

It smells. What you may ask. But I have no clear answer for that. But it smells. It smells like scrunched up wet clothes. Or like a pillow that has been used far too often. Maybe even like armpits after a normal days work. It’s not an unbearable smell but it is there. It lies there within the various odors and malodors. It cannot be seen, but the smell makes it seem green. It diffuses in all direction making its presence known, yet it is bearable. It lies there with the smell of roses from all the love, and the fragrance of perfumes from the confidence, even with the beautiful smell of skin from the talent. It is seen. It is known. Yet bearable.  People walk in smell the odours and walk away not sensing it. But for me who lives with it, it is known. Like an itch at the middle of my back. I feel it but cannot do anything about it. I twist and turn and rub on different surfaces. Approach others to help but they neither can smell it nor place where the itch is. So here I stand bearing the itch.