She asked Jane, “Will you do something simple for me?”
Jane nodded, as she sniffed and stifled the threatening tears.
“Will you take a piece of paper and list three good things about yourself and three negative things?” She asked watching Jane grind her teeth, struggling to compose her control.
Jane looked her in the eye. The second part seemed easy. “I could list more than three”, Jane thought as she walked out of the room.
Listening to the cries and blows of the faceless humans, Jane had succumbed to demoralisation. In her mind she was on her knees, heart broken. Lost. Without a purpose.
Jane, after leaving the room, had sworn that she will not go back to her. Yet the exercise haunted her. The point she was trying to convey Jane, had touched the right spot. Yet, she failed.
My dearest Jane, you beautiful soul, why can’t you see what I see when I look at you? Try and you will find yourself seeing yourself in a different light.
There was this constant chatter of confusion rattling inside my head. A constant question bouncing, asking myself everyday, “Who am I really?” Though uneasy, it felt relieving to speak out my opinions and feelings without being afraid of being judged for the wrong reasons. But still, the question remained: how much of me can I risk being shared? How much of me felt comfortable in my own skin?
And as an answer, while waiting for my shuttle in the evening today, I saw this white hibiscus inhabiting in between this wild growth of leaves. I had to double take to notice it, but I did. The white beauty stood out brilliantly when I encouraged it to step out of hiding.
And the best part was: I loved it even more when it was standing out with its own elements. It didn’t hurt my sentiments one bit. Just like that, it felt natural to accept the white in between of dominating green.
Nature answered my agitated mind, and helped me take a step away from the anxiety of wanting to please everyone arould myself by becoming into a version they liked. Losing my essence in the process.
I’m at peace with all of me at every moment now. Most importantly, I’ve begun accepting myself the way I am. At least a little more than yesterday.
It is great to be in love again. I can sleep comfortably in your arms, listening to your stories at night.
It is great to know what I love to do. I enjoy every second with it, doing it, passionately.
It is brilliant how “loving” things gives some meaning to my actions.
Other than cynicism. Blunt sarcasm. It does.
Random thought again:
Does explaining another human of my actions, my words, my raw emotions, deprive those humans from thinking at all?
Does explaining everything and anything to someone, deprive them from thinking?
Why don’t they think?
I wonder, what runs in people’s mind when they don’t think about things that should matter.
I wonder, how does an empty silent mind would feel like.
I wonder, how people enjoy ignorance most of the time.
I wonder, how do people not enjoy discovering life. Anything about it.
What are you thinking?
I, of New York. 🙂
You claim to know me. What do you really see? An image that I project at you? Or an image you project of me at me? All my actions are defined by reasons you say. Now, that is a news to me. Am I getting to know myself by standing out of my own persona, listening to your claims?
In the absence of tone, a silent cry of help embedded in casual words. What did you see? Because, there was another silent retreat.
Fresh smell of laundry. Reminds me of spring, every time. 🙂
Everyone is just like everyone else.
Clair de Lune, is beautiful.
Thank you Debussy.
Those scientists should discover a device that will pen down any thought at our minds will as soon as the thought frequency is thrown out in this space. A device, which will finally catch up with the speed of thought. These fingers seem to miss out and lose many thoughts into an infinite void.
Void. Reminds me of black hole. A super-massive black hole.
Galaxy is beautiful. I should visit a planetarium again, soon.
Arranged Love. Sounds like another oxymoron to me. It is.
Too many morons with an irritating fake laughter which is forced out from their throat. Sounds like those morons are raping laughter. Yeahahaha you are so fuckin funny. I won’t laugh. Hate me.
Sarcasm is a great creation. What would have the first man/woman have felt when he/she uttered a sentence that was like a punch, but still not a punch? Pleasure! Pleasure pleasure pleasure!
Did you ever feel like you are sitting in a place and you feel you are existing in the wrong place? And that place is a “world” at that moment. Like, you belong to a different world? Like existence is waste in this particular “world”?
Why did I every say arranged love? I love telling people what to do and I don’t like people bugging me asking me what to do. So yes, that is my assigned job. Contradiction. Probably, I am beginning to love what I hate. Probably I sat in that red cubicle for long enough that I’m beginning to think I’m extraordinarily ordinary.
I miss cursing. Mellowing down is like eating up my creamy crunchy layer. Whaat the phuck!
Too much of Blue and White in my wardrobe.
Today evening, I will use my Davidoff. Finally. FINALLY! The day is here.
Here. Now. Present, right here, right now is such a nice time.
Now this world, is where I belong. 🙂
What is real, seemed unreal. Probably, I couldn’t grasp the moment that was then. Everything simply passed by my eyes and I questioned the moment, “Is this really it? Am I here now, breathing in this moment?”
And the mind wandered…
There is always a void within. I thought, I found one of the missing pieces. I tried putting it in a place and I was disappointed. Then I heard: disappointment is better than having nothing. At least I won’t be left standing wondering “what could have been?” before deserting a feeling. At times, keeping the image of a person as a memory is lot better than discovering what the person is and immortalizing the harsh reality.
And now, I know, there’s a long long way to go.
He was a beautiful human being, who didn’t know what’s going around him.
You tell the truth, people get mad at you.
You lie, people still get mad at you.
You tell the truth, you are tagged weird.
You lie, you are still tagged weird.
You tell the truth, you are judged.
You lie, you are still being judged.
You tell the truth, people are hurt.
You lie, people are still hurt.
(For those with conscience)
You tell the truth, you feel like a fool.
You lie, you still feel like a fool.
So tell me, what’s the difference? You tell the truth or lie, it still seems to bring out the same emotion in people. People still appreciate both equally and yet people are still are not satisfied.
Both has its justifications.
But now, I want an answer.
In the circle of light atmosphere, with his deadpan face he questioned her, “How do I know this is it?” Hoping with her experience, she would have all the answers. A question which everyone asks.
Probably I finally grew up enough to start listening to what I want. Questioning what do I want. What do all want? What do all chase?
The Elusive One?
How do I know this is it? When will I’ll stop getting bored and jump from one stone to another looking for another shiny rock with some difference which make it shine for that little while before I move on to something else? What is that will keep my feet steady in one place? How will I know if this is it, I’ve found him, or I’ve found what I love to do?
“Wait with all the patience you can bear and see, time will tell you everything.” is what they say. Then pause and add, “You’ll simply know” for the dramatic effect. Cliched, obviously.
I had a simpler answer ring in my head today:
When I will find it very very hard to let go, then that will be it.