.unsaid

I am not okay;
never was.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I have said it. A couple too many times. I have said it in metaphors, translating in words that I didn’t even understand and in between the lines, or perhaps all is lost in translation.. But at the core of the things, it is still there. And I have said it way too many times or that’s how I feel. I am still here trying to say, let me rephrase.. I am trying to express in words that apparently don’t reach the people. I am not being cautious, perhaps I am scared. Or perhaps, I don’t know how to do it, how to say it bluntly. I will beat around the bush but I will not say it as it should be said, out loud, crystal clear.

May be that is why I can’t ever feel content with it, content with writing it off and hoping that it will do it’s magic of not making a permanent house in my mind. But, I am at loss of words. Writing was always my solace, my way of letting the things go and hoping that the new day that follows will be less burdened and also refreshing. Imagine the day when we don’t worry about yesterday and looking forward to great day that is to follow. How beautiful the sunshine will be, how melodious those birds chirp, how clear the sky is and how great the morning glory feels like. And in all adversity, how happy we will be, from the inside.

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While I write this, I have hit the backspace a little too much. I might as well have published with the words that I backspaced. I don’t know why! I don’t know why I am so unsure about writing about what I really want to write. I wonder if I am bothered by something that I am having second thoughts on how to put it in writing. I am sure nothing is bothering me. And I think I don’t just want to write them down. I don’t want me to validate it by writing it down. I just don’t want to sign it off as exactly what it is. Because as hopeless and crass I might be, I will try to look for that tiny lost hope that it will all get better soon. That, things will change and I won’t be in this place where I currently am at. You might… let me rephrase, I am not but I think I am a little superstitious. I don’t like things getting jinxed, as in like if I tell something bad, it will definitely happen, and if I say something good, it will never happen. I have this superpower that I control the world, my world. I just have to think of it, the good or the bad and it will happen, just the one I really don’t want to.

I have written about it. I continue to write about it. But at some point, it feels repetitive. Like the earlier few lines. But today I will “really” write it. Hopefully, I won’t bring any metaphors or hide between the lines!

I am in pain, mentally and emotionally. I am hurt on the inside. I have felt hurt for as long I can remember. But I put on a façade and tell everyone that I am okay. No! I am not! I am not okay! I never was, am, and I don’t know whether I ever will be. There is a commotion inside, and that never settles. The mind is restless. While things happen and people console that it is alright since it happens for a good reason, you try to calm that restlessness in the mind. It feels better to know that there is a greener side and that there will be a knock on the door called opportunity. While the mind doesn’t stay calm for long, another thing happens, and there are voices it is for the good. I calm the mind saying that it is just round the corner. While I am in these phases, I write it down. Because writing is my solace. And I end writing that painful post about the pain that the mind is in, that I am in, while I start to feel a bit relieve and feeling that peace approacing me, there is another thing that happens. And I repeat the whole process over and again, hoping that one day it will just end. And honestly, I am getting tired of trying to write about this everytime, differently every time. I have a whole book with pages filled with this and I wonder is this how it is going to be, for the rest of the life! Is this anyway how life should be? That metamorphical rock that I keep carrying just keeps getting heavier. At one point, I just might collapse and there is no coming back when it does!

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.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

Alone

We are never alone, we are just looking for someone who understands.

Somewhere out there someone is writing, writing their pain away, hoping to be free, hoping to break through the weight that is pulling them down, suffocating with each breath they take and the heavier the heart gets. But however huge the number of words on the pages might be, and however little relief they might be getting, the pain, that isolated pain still stings. Despite the huge burden inside, they put on a bright smile hoping that no one would see through their eyes and figure out what they truly say. And the thought that no one would ever understand just pinches a little more.

Meanwhile, somewhere out there someone else is in writing, writing their pain away, just like the earlier people, hoping that they might not be alone afterall.

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#connectingThoughts
A something that is prompt-based or perhaps something as complicated (or may be not) as love, or as vast as life. Now you might be wondering what the something is that was mentioned a little earlier, it could be anyting from poetry to prose, a single line to a whole thesis.
Connecting Thoughts” was coined by Dhwani, who blogs at Sunshine came up with a collaborative idea of writing something on a weekly basis, with an aim to motivate people and more importantly, connect with them. Hoping to see you join the bandwagon.

.inhibitions

We cross the line never meant to cross.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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More often an now, we come across an impossible situation where we have to make a choice, a decision that will probably decide the present and the circumstantial future. And the problem is not usually the choice we have to make, but the fact that there is something beautiful on the other side, however temporary or floating, we still want to cross the barricades of morality, even after knowing that it’s the wrong thing to do. The outcome of it is pretty simple, we enjoy crossing those barricades but then again we regret it instantly because we have this voice in the head shouting at us about the wrong choice we made, the same voice which was shouting at us to make the right choice earlier to finally crossing that line.

It’s a dark place to be in, before and after. And it’s eats us up on the inside. We try to justify in some way but there is no justification of what was done that could help us from this very inhibition.

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.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .inhibitions

Never Again

We cross the lines labelled never to cross.
– eɴʏɢma

She had been holding on to it for quite a while. There was a lot going on in her mind. And it was getting frustrating with each passing moment. Even though what has occupied her mind is a beautiful memory yet, she had been feeling about it all this while. It has been two days and she was probably dying to speak to anyone so that she could ease the burden on her shoulders. What could it be which is weighing her down so much in spite of that memory being a beautiful one? She had been feeling bad because of what she had done and it is morally questionable. As if she had thought of the moral quotient or so to speak her integrity.

“I kissed another guy”

She met him online on Twitter. A few words here and a few there, a little flirting and a lot more love (or so it might seem like), a bit of truth and lot of falsity, a bit of infatuation a lot of lust. It seemed mutual, the infatuation..er the lust. The love is still a questionable aspect because both were in a relationship, with someone else. Numbers were exchanged and chats turned to video calls and the rest was history. But all changed one day.

It was the day when he told that he was still in a relationship and that this girl from Twitter was a happy time pass and that this promise of getting intimate was still on the cards because that was what he was looking for. A fling on the side while having a girlfriend. She was devastated with the development that blew up in her face. She wasn’t as faithful as she should be and yet this came as a shock to her. She felt used, she felt betrayed, she felt hurt and in all she felt cheated.

He was blocked from contacting her. She made sure of that. Because she didn’t want to be that person who would be manipulated and used for a casual intimate encounter. But…she used to check him out once in a while. She was intimidated. She was in love, but didn’t want to admit that, to anyone and to herself. Because at the back of her head there was a voice shouting about all the morality of the situation she was putting herself in.

She got a call from him. She was shocked and yet at the same time intrigued that he called her. He was outside her college. She was at loss of words. She was in his car and she had lost herself. Then she kissed. They both kissed. She enjoyed every moment of that. She wanted more of that. But that moral police roaming around with a siren on top had been shouting that this is wrong, that she should stop it, that she should not even encourage it. In spite of all the red tape and X marks she went to his home, in her own accord. The fantasy had to happen. She wanted it to happen. She could have avoided all that because in some distant corner of her mind there was a voice shouting to her to not do any of it, standing over the moral integral line and urging her to not cross that line. She heard that voice, its agitated-frustrated and extremely loud but it faded away when he went all cheesy on her.

She knew that it was wrong but then again her desire to make that fantasy true was more strong. It overpowered her and she didn’t have much choice. Well, she had but she choose to ignore it nonetheless. And then again, it was the best one she ever had. She was beyond happy. She was elated. She enjoyed every bit of it.

It was a day after that she came out from the trance and saw all the moral police with their angry faces. She was supposed to feel guilty, but she didn’t. She was getting frustrated about her inability to feel even a bit of guilt for the things she did. She wanted to share with someone but then again she was scared of driving people away because of the weight of the thing she was about to share.

_______

She didn’t want something this to happen again, ever. She didn’t want anything like this to happen in the first place. She didn’t want to meet him. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even want to think about him. She knows how wrong it is, how immoral it is, this being unfaithful to someone else is. And yet she did every single bit of it. But then again, she doesn’t regret what she has done. She will probably (not probably, definitely) do it again all over again. She knows that too that she will. Perhaps, she wants so.

_______

Let’s take a moment to reflect at the people and their behaviour. Being faithful is an integral part of a person. But then again when they happen to be unfaithful what are the possible reasons for going ahead with it? Does it have to do anything with them being unhappy with the present relationship? Or is it the fun or excitement in crossing that line? Do reflect your opinions about the people being in such situations and crossing the line they know they shouldn’t cross! What’s your take on it? Well let me repharase and be more blunt at this because I am sure people have opinions like always but when it comes to them they evade. So, what would you do? You love someone but you have a desire to be someone else! And you know it is wrong, but you want it very very badly. What would you do?

But let’s just appreciate this quote that blew my mind. What beauty is this? :

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The Wait

“Not knowing is far worse than knowing what was wrong.”

Have you ever been in a dilemma where you want to say everything , but don’t. Because you are not sure how the person you want to say everything to would react. And that, their reaction is what scares you the most. And this being scared feeling eats you up inside, slowly. Then one moment you sit and write it all down and then again wonder just before finally hitting ‘send’, you don’t . You delete the whole thing because you don’t even want to send it by mistake and later regret, so you delete it completely. But you wonder that it might have turned it all right, if you had just sent that message. Because not knowing is far worse than knowing what was wrong, if there was anything at all. But then again, you feel that this confused state of mind is a much better place to be than making the worse of the two alternatives happen. Maybe everything is all okay. Maybe you are just over thinking. Maybe it is all in your head. You console yourself that everything is just normal.

Then one day, later the same very day, you just can’t handle this confusion that the mind is creating. The dilemma is just taxing on your work and in turn it is affecting you in more ways than you think it isn’t. And you realize that your heart is sinking and that it is being pulled down as if it is getting heavier with each moment that you are contemplating. You feel that it is not strong enough to handle such pressure; the pressure of not-knowing, the pressure of what might, the pressure of what if, the pressure of this dilemma, and everything combined. So, you sit down and search for that previously deleted text. You write it all over again anyway, trying to choose the right words but that taxing of your mind by that pressure just doesn’t let you have a proper train of thought. But somehow you write that heartfelt, or to be precise whatever is weighing you down, and finally send it, after contemplating for a few hours.

You regret immediately for even sending the message. May be it was too short, or may be it was too much, maybe it was inappropriate, but you shouldn’t have sent that in the first place.  You curse yourself for sending. Oh god, what have you done? How can i undo this? Shit! Shit! Shit! You even feel the whole universe seems to say so. You hold your head in your hands for making that mistake. But yet, you wait. You wait for a reply. Each second feels like an hour and each ticking sound of your watch makes you more and more nervous. You are this close to having a nervous breakdown. And then the status change to “Online“. Your heart skips a beat. You start to sweat. The message is now in read state. And you can feel your heart in your mouth. And yet you wait. You wait for a reply. There is none. A few seconds pass away, and yet there is no reply. You wait for more time, perhaps she is writing a lengthy reply. Or maybe it wasn’t well received and this was the end of it. And despite all that’s weighing you down, you cling to that tiny thread of hope. You keep clinging to that thread which seems to be breaking off. But there is no reply, and you find yourself falling down and everything seems to flash in front of your eyes, but you still don’t know what was the thing that you did was wrong and led to this distance. Even during that fall, your mind is making all the scenarios to make sense of all this that left you in splits. You cruse your overthinking stupid brain. And gradually, you die of overthinking and anticipation and all that overwhelming feelings. But, but.. that dilemma still haunts you even after.

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P.S. I haven’t written for a while. It has literally been ages, since I wrote. I haven’t been able to bring myself to write. I have lost that train of thought and what  I earlier thought made it more broken. But I hope to get back to it, as soon as possible. I really apologize for not being able to read any of the blog posts. I really look forward to doing it from now on. 

 

Solitude

The world faded in vibrant shades of people, the commotion increasing with each cheer, a smile here, a hug there, a shout here, a fist bump there.  The crowd got a little more momentum when more people joined the celebration as the music blared in the background. The ground vibrated with the joy of people dancing in their highest spirits. The air was filled with the spirit of what the people shared with each other, the bond that was so unique, pure and selfless; Friendship and Love. There was just happiness floating all around, the warmth that radiated from the heart.

_______

He stood there amidst the crowd as the people swarmed all around him. The feeling seemed contagious as he too was transpired in the moment and felt part of that celebrating crowd, high in their spirits; happy and content. The stars glittered ever so bright over the dome of endless sky. He loved to see how people enjoyed, and celebrated life. The happy faces were a sight to watch, the feeling shared among them was worth a memory. He didn’t dance like they did, he didn’t have company like they did, he didn’t feel what they felt, but all he did was try to sink that feeling in, something that he never had the pleasure of.

The clouds slowly engulfed the bright specks in the sky as the crowd slowly faded away to their next celebration. As the music played its last beat, the only sound that reverberated was the sound of his breath in an empty field. Of all that had happend that night, he knew this, the feeling that the ground underneath had; empty, he knew it way too well; and the sound, the silence that spread across the vastness, he knew it like he craved for it. And as reality sink in, he walked back to his home, alone, to his solitude.

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Impact Zero

How! How did I derail? How did I do this? What just happened? Why am I writing normal stuff? Why am I being so nice, I mean trying to be nice? What is happening to me? Why am I trying to be normal? Why am I trying to be sensitive to something as bizzare as this? Why!

Disclaimer Not Suitable For Reading, because no one is reading, duh! Don’t pretend you do. I would know if you did. It’s not a super power, but more of a calculated deduction.

Why do you read? Why do we read? Why does anyone read? Because we want to live a world that is a world apart from the one we live in. But mostly, we read to live the world of the person behind the book or even that small write up. It tells us so much, it teaches us, perhaps inspires us a little as well. And in retrospective, it gives us a chance to escape from the charades of life and immerse ourselves in something we can ponder over, and perhaps act as well, mostly how what we are reading drives us. But if you ask me to be frank, I never the same about the textbooks in school when compared to the fiction books I read. I would be glad if you agree as well, but otherwise, going well textbookaholic ( Yes, I create stuff occasionally).

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Now, the more important question is why do you write? The analogy as to why would anyone write differs from person to person and well, to be fair each one has a different reason so as to why would they write. Let me tell you, writing is not easy, or may be it’s just me. Writing is not easy when you think of the elements. The elements range from people’s opinions to our own stigma or are they called our inhibitions? Amidst all, we write not only to express ourselves but it is what frees us, frees up from the charades of life, frees us from ourselves. Ourselves! Interesting, right? Well, yes! Because if you could  observe the broader picture, we are the ones who keep us from writing. We give excuses saying that it is the work, it is the life happening, it is this or that and the most common of them which not surprisingly I use all the time is “Writers Block”.

This brings me to the most important aspect that I wanted to discuss, or if you care to discuss that is : What would make someone read a post? A tacky title? A provoking photo? The few lines under the title, also called as an excerpt, giving a brief about the actual post, or sometimes it’s just the first 50-60 words of the said post. Or is it the name of the writer/blogger, who wrote the post? Because I know a lot of people just don’t read the post. I have come across a wide variety of people (by people I mean bloggers, some of them friends as well), or in general, a majority of whom just don’t read the post. WordPress makes it easy to navigate through the feed of the bloggers one follow. But then again, why don’t people read the post in their Reader feed? Is it the small excerpt that somehow leads to the possible neglect. Neglect is a strong word. I would rather say ‘Like‘ the post without actually reading it. Because reading would basically generate a thought, howsoever is not always favourable most of the time, but that is what the comment section is for – to understand the others point of view.

To give a better picture of what goes in the mind of a writer is a cumulation of a million thoughts, carefully formulated to make a logical sense of the topic at hand, and while at it address the various issues at hand and probably seek help from people reading, or inspire a little, if need be. Or sometimes people just want to be heard and see if others could relate, just to assure themselves that they are just not alone. But I guess that would be asking too much of people.

This brings to the realization that why I am stressing out on so much? Why can’t I just write the stupid stuff that I usually write and be done with it. Because in my time of writing all this while, I have come across people who are not perfect. Perfect!? Such a cliche word. So, let me rephrase : I have come across people who are imperfectly perfect, because we as writers want to be heard, no doubt, but at the same time we also need that shoulder to lean on or just be there, even if one can’t offer a shoulder. I always wanted to be that shoulder or to lend a hand or just be there, listen, or perhaps just read and tell them that “It is going to be alright”.

To the imperfectly-perfect people,
I just want to tell you and assure that I am here for you, anyday, anytime. I am not perfect either. so, bear with me, we will go through the mess together.
– Imperfect being.

And like my title suggests, I want to leave an impact. People usually look for a positive outlook at life, I fail to do so, at every word I write, ever letter I carve. As a matter of fact, I do the exact opposite thing, give the glimpse of the dark side. It is a purview of a person enduring most of it. So, it is also a concern that no one else faces the same darkness, and fight those demons alone. It is just to reassure that I can’t win that battle, but I have seen Spartan, Gladiator and the likes of it. I will leave it at that.

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How! How did I derail? How did I do this? What just happened? Why am I writing normal stuff? Why am I being so nice, I mean trying to be nice? What is happening to me? Why am I trying to be normal? Why am I trying to be sensitive to something as bizzare as this, comments (what now?), people reading my blog(Am I being serious now!) ? Where did all the dark stuff go? Where is my old fried, darkness? Why am I reaching for the light? Why!

–  Enigma

An encounter.

A millisecond of an encounter, a million thoughts exchanged. 

They met at the coffee shop. Perhaps, it was the fate at play or probably its just a coincidence. There was a mix up in their orders and he got hers, she his. That’s how they met for the first time, second time the very same day, when the came face to face to exchange their order. Him being a coffee enthusiast, or in other words a caffeine addict came to have his daily dose of coffee and took the only remaining seat under the roof. It was probably the rush hour or perhaps the people found this to be an ideal place to talk their business. Or perhaps the people ‘hopelessly’ in love have found this place for their usual business of enclosed public display of affection. The music was blaring in his ears when a shadow appeared in front of his eyes and he knew what they wanted to ask so he said “Sure” just as the shadow began to ask a question and as the shadow took it’s place, he got a glimpse, a split second of the shadow in his absent mind. He pretended to be normal but there is a sudden commotion within him, something surreal, something that he had never felt before. His heartbeat was faster, his mind started racing with million thoughts and he wanted to be as cool and calm as possible. May be it was her eyes, may be it was her in complete adoration.

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She looked across the room filled with voices, soft yet loud, as it felt like it was a very happening place. Perhaps, it is the busy hour, she thought to herself. She scanned the whole place but she couldn’t find a single seat except the one in the far corner. She was finally relieved to find a place all to herself where she could indulge in some lone time after the mess of a day that she had had. She just wanted to drown herself in coffee and a book, and leave the day behind. As she was going to grab that corner place while a multitude of thoughts that overflowed her, they stopped in mid way when she saw a guy listening to the music in his phone, settling himself in the seat. She was about to turn around but thought of giving it a shot if he was alone by any chance, she could still drown herself in the book, because then it wouldn’t matter even if anyone was in front of her or a mile away from her. But as she reached the table and was about to ask the question about the seat, “Sure” came the reply as the person in the chair already anticipated what she had wanted without even looking at her. Perhaps there was something really important on his phone that compelled him to be so fixated on his phone. But as she took her seat, she saw his eyes in a tiny glimpse, a millisecond of an encounter, a million thoughts exchanged.

It was that moment when the world went into a silent blur and the voices started fading away in the background. A moment frozen in time that neither of them wanted to come out of, but a distance voice kept calling their names which involuntarily brought them back to reality. Their orders were ready and since he heard his name first, he went ahead to get his while trying to play as cool and normal as possible. But perhaps, he was too indulged in the surreal world that he stumbled as he walked towards the counter. She followed him as her name was next on the list. He didn’t pay much attention to what he was carrying back, neither did she, but as they sat back in their seats, they realized that their orders might not have been theirs.

For a second they waited a moment for either of them to say a word. If they had waited another second, they would have continued to have each others drinks without informing either one about the mismatch, which didn’t seem like such a bad idea either, thanks to the great aroma that it was radiating, but they spoke almost at the same time. And then they paused for the other to continue, but each of them waited for the other to say something. When neither of them said anything, they both smiled and as they exchanged their trays. His heart melted a little, her smile got to him, he didn’t even realize the loud music that played in his ears through his ear phones, and she was no indifferent, she forgot about the book she wanted to read. All she wanted to read now was him, know about him and may be talk a little more with him. But their silent occasional glances did all the talking, in it’s own language. It was as if they knew each other for a long time by how their eyes interacted. They sat across each other and though they were silent for a long time, yet continued talking with their eyes. But eventually, they talked after introducing themselves to each other. It was a weird feeling for both of them. They were complete strangers to begin with and yet somehow they were completely comfortable talking to each other. Before they realized, time flew by, the moon was at its peak and the coffee shop was about to be closed. That was when they were forced to retire for the day but neither of them wanted to. She didn’t once worry about the dreaded day that had passed and he had the best night of his life in such a long time. There was something unique about each other that attracted one another on a level that they failed to comprehend. And yet they were a little shy talking, considering they were complete strangers and they were scared to ruin a good thing by saying something that the other wouldn’t like. That level of understand is yet to be reached between them. By the time they had exited the coffee shop, he knew that both of them had to go separate ways since they stayed on opposite side of the city, so he asked if she wanted to walk for a bit and since it was pretty late, he promised to drop her home.

He had his fingers crossed behind him hoping that she would answer in his favor and to his surprise, she did. They had walked around for a bit longer than they had hoped to and they were in the backseat of the cab where he was doing as he had promised to drop her home even though she insisted that she could go on her own, which was a lie. Yes, she could go but she would have preferred not to, especially if it was him accompanying her. They reached her home and made their way to her house. He had informed the cab driver to wait and keep the meter on as he didn’t know what would happen in the next few minutes- whether he would stay over or have to return back to his home to one sleepless night(s). And as they reached the door, a million thoughts flooded his mind and so did hers. He didn’t know what to say and what to do. She was flustered already that he was at her doorstep and she wanted him in her house, sit by the fire and talk the night away, but didn’t know how to ask him. Meanwhile, before he was about to bid farewell, he opened his arms saying that he had the best night in a very long time and that she was a very special person. As they hugged, their bodies talked to each other in that warm embrace, a spark went inside each other’s heart and before she could process what was happening inside her, she kissed on his cheek and invited him inside. He ran back to the cab and paid the fare and came back into her house.

They crashed in the couch as she offered him a glass of wine. A soft music played in the background. All this was done by her while he ran back to the cab to pay the fare. And when the music in the background hit the right note, they looked at each other, into their eyes and it happened again, a spark in their eyes that called out to each other. They came a little close to each other, diving deep into each other’s eyes and they came close enough to breathe each other in.

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To be continued …
(Or should it be stopped here?
If you’re reading this, drop in your opinions what could happen, in your opinion. )