.smile

I never knew that a smile could scare me.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I caught a glimpse on the mirror as I walked past it. I did not quite recognise the person I saw, however it has been the same face the I have been seeing everyday. But it was different that day or perhaps it has been the same and I never saw it until that moment. I stared as if I was watching something..someone for the first time. And after all the contemplation and trying to figure out the story behind those lost eyes, I was still clueless. There was so much going on the inside and yet so little visible in the eyes. And I could do was wonder how I was still standing when I have been breaking down a million times each day and why the eyes never told those untold & unseen stories. I found a mystery in myself. Interesting, I thought. Never did I think that I would make myself ponder over me. I believed I had figured myself out, even when no one else ever could. I continued to stare at my reflection. Maybe I wanted to myself to show what I was feeling on in the inside, perhaps in the eyes and wipe that expressionless face that never said a word like the personality that I had been carrying around. Unless I face it, I could never overcome it. All I was doing here was let it get trapped inside and sink in deeper.

A buzz in my pocket distracted the silent conversation with myself. It was a text message which inquired how I was doing? Without a second thought as if it was pre-programmed in me, I replied that I am doing good, and smiled as if I was telling the person in question face to face. At that moment again, I accidentally caught a glimpse of my reflection. Interestingly enough and quite bizarrely, I found was a person smiling which changed back to that former expressionless one within the next second. Quite honestly, it was getting quite boring staring at the expressionless face and I wondered how the people know me deal with me, when I am unable to stand myself for this short moment. But that fraction of a second, when there was that convincing smile when truth be told, I was lying through the teeth when I said that I was doing fine. The funny thing about it was that it looked convincing.

It sort of scared me.

How can I be so convincing when I know for a fact that I am not at all good by a long shot. I am literally hanging by a thread. All I saw was that curve which convinced me enough to believe what I had just said. Why was I even doing that? Why was there even a need to show that I was all okay when I am not? Why am I being trying to be a person that I am clearly not? Maybe I am just trying to fit in and belong in a world that is quite so judgemental and not be an exception to the social norms that we are governed with. How long do I have to continue not being myself and try to be a person falling in the premise of these illogical bracketed norms.

Maybe someday, I will be free from the chains that I tied to my feet, from the weight that I carry within. Maybe. As I pondered over the questions I had no answer to, I tried to smile. And it started to scare me each time I tried. All I was trying to do was find that happy moment when I was happy, genuinely happy and see whether I could ever be. But then again, how can I ever do that, knowing what I was carrying on the inside, knowing what I do not even remember having felt. How could I ever not fake a smile, when that was what I knew.

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.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

.scream

The silence in the voice.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I stared at the reflection on the mirror. The eyes were searching for something. Some sort of validation, I suppose, or perhaps some answers, but the more they searched, they never even got any close to what they were searching for. Maybe there were no answers, or perhaps, the answers were lost. But in all honesty the answers were always there, they were just ignored. And beside the discontentment of not having, ignoring the answers, the eyes had something else in them, a sense of disappointment.

I sat down to gather the thoughts, the ones which lay scattered, in a web of jumbled and hazy thoughts, which never seemed to make any sense. While the confusion settled in the abyss of a mind, there was this new uneasy feeling that began to surface. It has always been there and this seems to be resurfacing again which always lead to messier things and breaking the already broken. And the unsettling feeling of what is supposed to be done isn’t being done is just topping the already full glass of water.

As I sat there looking into the eyes, speechless and wondering how to answer the questions that lay in front of them, I didn’t have the answers, I never did. All I thought had was one answer or more like an alternative to all this overflowing glass of water. And that might have seemed irrational, but it was the only way that could put an end to all this. And however irrational that sounded, it was sort of comforting to know that there was something that could be done, even though that didn’t land on the moral side of the scale.

The Silence in the Voice.

Now, there are a few more eyes trying to leap into my eyes looking for something, anything. The answers that I have always been searching for. And all could see in those eyes was something I had feared never to see. I was as blank to the questions in front of me. How was I supposed to tell that one thing that kept me going was an irrational thought and that was something that could never be said. While I sat there wondering how this irrational thought could be, no, is definitely the answer to all the questions, not the ideal solution but it was the best god damn alternative to everything that seemed to be weighing me down. There came a point when I stopped looking for any better answers because this irrational alternative was the only thing that could answer the unanswered questions while posing a few too many new questions, but that was not something of a concern to me now. Because the aftermath of this irrational thought was an abyss that I could never return from to answer any questions if there were any, which, with a doubt will be there.

However, and in all uncertainty, having finally come down to this one solution, as irrational it might seem like, this abyss that I was seeking as the ultimate solution was the farther away than it seemed. And that it cold solve all the problems seemed like an illusion. Imagine now, while I look at the eyes in the reflection in front of me and realizing that the one answer that could solve all the questions was just another failure and all I could of is screaming at the clueless reflection still staring back at me, lost in a self created abyss.

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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

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. 

 

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. )