An image to live up to.

I understand that life is not a wish granting factory. But sometimes pouring your heart out into a few words is the only thing that keeps you sane. This is one of my 'I am feeling down' wishes: I wish I could meet new people, make new friends. I am not saying I hate my old ones, I just wanna do these whole friendships all over again. I remember my junior year at college, I used to hang out with several squads of people; different bubbles. I used to make assumptions about them and imagine what their background may have looked like. Everyone had a new story to tell. There wasn't an image of me in their heads I should live up to or that awkward situation I wish I could have changed.

Now, I live a double life, forever walking two paths; the one that was chosen for me in people's minds and the one I could not take. My feet walk the path they have chosen, my soul wanders the road not taken, and my heart....my heart is forever torn between the two, my mind is weary and I am forever restless.

Well, There are still quite a few people I want to talk to , be friends with. But I just assume they are never interested in me the same way I am. Plus, what if I am too damaged? What if I hurt them? It is not like I didn't hurt people before. What if they didn't turn out to be as good as I imagined ?. These people give me a false hope I would rather hang on to than have nothing at all.

Small tip to all the people starting new chapters in their lives: Make as many new friends as you can. Don't consume your soul with 'what if's or 'what could have been's. Believe me you don't want to be at a reunion where you can't recognise half the people sitting at the table.

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Covered in lead.

This morning, I hated my mug with the words "Do more of what makes you happy" encrypted on it, I let it slip inbetween my fingers like paper. I didn't brush my teeth first thing or take a shower. Rather, I stayed motionless in bed. My mom made me the breakfast I never laid my hands on. Today, I feel out of character. Really out. I'm having one of those out-of-body experiences, and to be honest, I'm not very fond of the photograph I'm about to see. I don't love the body I was incarcerated in. I'm an object slowly drowning into a thousand disguises I should have worn. I try to swim my way out but I'm anchored by all the books I read, all the movies I loved, all the people I cared for and left. There will always be this layer of lead surrounding me, preventing me from grasping the marvels of the world. If only I could touch it, smash it into a million pieces before it changes into fog. My pain is wearing a bulletproof vest underneath his garment. My p...

The pursuit.

You just realise it after spending 21 years chasing a phantom, after hitting nethermost zeros or being at the toppest climaxes and definitely after having a few phases of deep reflection where you start debating everything you have ever experienced. We sketch happiness at the end of each line and we feel entitled to it. We work our asses off and do everything right hoping it would be adequate enough and that things would cosmically align. Little do we know that pain is always part of the process. You can't enjoy every rain drop and every storm along the way without getting soaked. You can't find home without feeling lost at first, you can't feel connected with somebody without the jadedness of waiting, you can't have a best friend without the awkwardness of beginings, you can't negotiate in 'now's without saying goodbye a couple of times, you can't find faith and trust without the sharp pain of disappointment stabbing you in the chest, you can't be s...

That's what writing is to me.

I'm starting to think that people usually perceive me as a writer and I remember saying when I first started writing that I don't want to be looked at as such. It's a responsibility I am not willing to take. I only write for my own self-amusement and relief and that doesn't qualify me for anything other than being a friendly neighbourhood thought-giver. Some scripts aren't so personal that I choose to share them with the world. Others are just better kept unsaid.

The truth about living

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