Everything Fades Away

You spend your life holding on to things and people and moments but just like that you lose them.. The people, first. Then the things related to them come second. And last come the moments.. Which too eventually fade away. Memories don't last forever.. No matter how pleasant or sweet. No matter how hard you hold on to them. They start to blur. And eventually all you're left with are those hollows of the memories you once had. You don't admit to anyone, not even yourself, that you miss them. Neither the people, nor the things and least of all the moments. Because you believe that they live on in you. I believed they lived on in me. That I would always remember.. The tiniest details, the most insignificant dates, the simplest emotions. But holding on is such a waste of time. And holding on to the wrong people? Too much so.

Letting go is all you can do sometimes. But what's worse is when you drown it all completely. Everything that ever meant anything. When you pick it all up and scratch it all out. When hate starts to blind you and you change your 'forever' to 'never'.

A little pointer.
Choose your friends wisely. And once you make someone a friend who matter enough, let them remain just that. Anything more, inevitably screws you over.

Friendship never meant the same to everyone. And my definition of it surely never matched with the world's. For me it was everything. Touché then really that I made friends with people who'd throw it all away for nothing.

You threw away the friendship.
Then the love.
And lastly, the trust.
Without trust, what are we anyway?

But congratulations, you've had your revenge. And if your happiness is something you doubted I'd stand in the way of, you never did know me. Since you never knew me, this mustn't hurt. Since I never knew you, this isn't much of a loss. Then why does it feel like someone ripped my insides?

Well played though.
I was alas, just your game.
And you my friend, became the perfect player.
Cheers.
To the game called us, and the casanova called you.

Liars.

They never had a place in my world.
And now that's all you are. That's all you'll ever be.
Thank you.
You destroyed everything now, forever.

It doesn't have to be the same both ways.

It feels like a tiny splinter. But just that. A tiny needle pricking at my insides.. A constant jab. And more so because of how you handled it.

I feel foolish about yesterday now. But it's okay. I'll just close my eyes and drift off to a land of no secrets and no lies. You were never mine. And you can't lose something you never had.

So I'll run from you now. Further and faster than before. My head was always weary but my heart's in control too now, finally.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
Miles to go before I sleep.

All those times.

"I'm such a whiner know?"
"No baby, you're not."
"But he won't call.. WHY won't he just call?"
"Arey, chill. He will. Or I'll slap him for you tomorrow."

All those times when I was lost, you found me fiddling around with the nothings of my bare hands and gave me something that would distract me. Those times when I was insecure, about me, or life, or him, or him, you listened to me patiently, and then gave me hope that it would all work out. Times when I was whining about life being a bitch, you cribbed with me and promised to throw stones at the people and things that got me mad. All those times when I was up late waiting for someone online, or woke up early from a nightmare, you were there to help me count sheep until sleep graced me. When nobody believed me, you held my hand and said, screw them, I get you, I'm with you. And when the world had written me off as some slut and him as some whore, you stood up for me to people I don't even know and defended me to them, and him to me. You loved the ones the world was too busy hating, coz you saw the people under the cover.

Friendship means different things to different people and when your friendship came to mean the world to me, I don't really know. Because I can't remember a day when it didn't already mean that to me.. when you didn't mean as much as you mean now.

People for me happen in moments and sparks. You happened over a phone call in which we were both fake bitching about a boy we adore while I sat next to my mother in the car she was about to crash and you drove the same boy off to the station. They were both yelling in our ears at our respective ends of the world and yet, when we talked, we just talked. Nothing and nobody came in the way. They still don't. They can't.

Seven months baby.. It's been seven months since I came to know you and it feels like I've known you all my life. I know you inside out, but well that's not the surprising part, you are just amazing, what's there to not know and instantly like. You know me! And you love me just the same. That's no mean feat. Hitting it off is never difficult, no, but lasting this time, phew, that's what makes this so special.

All those dark, dreary days when I felt like I was alone and distant from everyone and everything I cared about, thank you for making that skype call and ensuring that I felt loved. Being with you is being on a constant sugar rush, It's a happy, intoxicationless high of sorts. I'm high on you. I'm high on us baby. Always.

So then it's no surprise is it that you've made it to this side of my world too? And that I'm giving you a side of me very few people get.. my words? It's no shock really that I am smiling to myself just typing all this and reminiscing everything we've had so far. And it's no big deal really that I just know that we'll be friends, forever. 'Coz souls don't just break apart you know..

Someone once told me, "She doesn't get close to people fast. Or open up to them."
I was taken aback since 'we' never took any time to cross that bridge.
Someone else added, "Yeah, you're an exception."
So thank you baby, for trusting in me and letting me be your exception. I promise to forever be one. Through all the madness and deceit and this fake-pretentious world, I promise you an eternity of me. A 'me' who really loves you. A 'me' who will stand by you, for you and up for you no matter what (yes, murders and rapes are included here) :P
And a 'me' who will love you endlessly just because you are that lovable.

Happy Birthday Snigdha.
I hope you know today, and always, that if someone this far away whom you've met for half a night can feel this way about you (despite being totally straight :P) then you really are something.

All my love, for all those times, and the many more to come.

Ten days.

Maybe I should've never asked.
But if you never ask, you never know, right.
And now the little hope left is gone too.
And forever seems a fucking long time suddenly.
My shuffle's a whore.
I miss you. Your face. Your voice.
But you just don't.
And it's like an acid burn on my heart.
And somehow I have to learn to be okay with it.
Tonight.

We used to stay up and fight till this hour.

And now I just stare at a screen that reads, 'whatever helps you sleep'
That was my line. Just like you.
And nothing helps me sleep at night.
But I sleep anyway. I dream of lands far away, of the people who love me and people who're still standing by me, just like they promised a decade ago; before the sleep becomes tortured and takes me down to the hell below.

But I stare at the screen anyway. I fall asleep looking at it and wake up to it. And then instead of replying, I end the chat. Because letting you go over and over again is all I can do. In the hope that maybe someday you'll just not let me or someday I wouldn't have to or someday I will, and not look back for the scattered pieces of us.

Tortured.

He slammed the door shut on her face. The tears rolled down her face as she tried hard for them to not fall over the brink of the eyelids that they were resting on; and she failed in collecting both, her tears and the clothes strewn and scattered around.

The main door shuts. She's trapped.

Years later, she could not recall if he used to smoke or not. Erasing him had taken all her energy and she had trouble placing if a cigarette was one of his many, varied vices. A sudden flash.

She's down to her knees, pleading with her eyes, refusing to go through it again when he casually lights a cigarette. As her head makes contact with her resigned fate, he ashes the cigarette in her hair and contemplates stubbing it on her skin. "You really need to get better you know."

He did smoke. She did wipe off his stains from her skin. She did hate her hair coz there were always traces of him in them. she wanted to chop them short just to never have them entangle and hold her back ever again. But then again, she never had the right to make that decision.

He's ringing the doorbell. She's home alone, unwilling to open it. The phone rings and rings incessantly. She finally lets him in and faces the wrath for making him wait, after. It's platonic, it's misery and yet he derives some pleasure from it. From her lifeless limbs and broken eyes.

She cries not once, but often, when she looks in the mirror. She can't face her reflection anymore. She cuts open a vein everytime, but never one big enough to drain her of her life or her senses. Just big enough to scar her wrists and mark each night and day with him.

He's making her listen to a hymn. She's crawling from beneath him, trying to scamper off but there's nowhere she can hide. He knows this house too well. Down to every inch of it. He knows she can't run. He knows she wouldn't run. She loves them too much.


And so she stays there, for a long time to come, under him, his slave, bound. And long after he's gone, she's bound to him in her sleep forever. She can't forget that face, those barbaric muscles that pinned her to the bed too often, those mad eyes which glinted with every moan of her agony which very rarely ever escaped her lips since she was so good at stifling her screams and that smirk which he had on his face forever because it was his game, his rules and he won, over and over again. And every face in her sleep turns to his as she relives that horror, a stranger in her own skin.

Five years later.
She wakes up drenched in sweat. Her flatmate hands her a glass of cool water.
"Bad dream?"
"Kinda. How come you're in my room?"
"I heard you whimpering in your sleep again."
She gulps down her nightmare with the water. 
The friend continues, "You really need help you know.."

She did really need help. She just didn't know whose.

Hot chocolate on burnt ice.

You know what happens when it's pouring outside and the breeze is all cool and sending shivers down your spine and forming a zillion goosbumps on your skin since you were never good at handling the cold by yourself (you always needed that muffler or that jacket or those arms, at times just the look in this one pair of eyes could give you warmth). I do. You go get a drink with the first guy who agrees to forgetting for an evening as to what lies ahead. And you do know what happens on alcohol now, don't you. You get sloshed out of your mind just to get away from everything that you're always thinking about and never want to. The aftermath of that can vary. I ended up tripping and strutting my way into McDonalds way past midnight, giggling like a fool, clutching to my nothing of a bag for support and helping my drunk friend walk. The waitress gives us a smirk like she knows what it's like. We just giggle some more like a bunch of misplaced teenagers. The hot chocolate she serves us, burns us a little more than it should and wakes us up a lot lesser than it ought to. I pass out on his shoulder on the ride back home and somehow climb the steps to my room. Then do it over and over again, looking for something. I go down to look in the living room, I come up to look in the lobby, I even go outside to look in the balcony. I search my flatmate's room and disturb them. I go mad looking for it in my room. Round and round, in circles and spirals of a black haze. As I finally crash on my bed, a half-burnt cigarette hanging loosely from my fingers, I still haven't found that one thing I was looking for.

I woke up, randomly, abruptly, a clutter of thoughts in my head. I recall the last thought and feeling in my head was of desperation, trying to find something.

It was you.

It's always been you.