SECRETS are lies in their own right. One can’t keep a secret without a lie. And we revere someone who can keep a secret, yet scorn those who lie. It is the same. They all meld together. We want confidantes to surround us, trustworthy and loyal. But we scream bloody murder when we find someone has been keeping secrets from us. We forget to remember the fact that they could be someone’s confidante themselves. Or maybe it’s not their secret to tell. And, maybe not ours to know either. Secrets we have with our cronies are revered. They make our bond grow stronger. Secrets they have with someone else, us being not on the in, ruin relationships of years past. We love, we fight, we cry over those secrets. But we can’t live without them. They rule us and all our actions. They control us in ways we would destroy lives to get away from the pressure of revealing them than succumb. But we won’t let go. Every now and then, the slate is clean and we have the opportunity to move forward without any of it weighing us down. But another day dawns and ding! We are back to square one, surrounded by beautiful lies and lovely secrets, ever strengthening the stench of desperation to be the one holding all the cards where the bets are high and the game has just begun.
They say fate smiles upon us and floods our lives with happiness when we have had our share of hurt. It takes time and patience. Lots of it. But it happens. And, we live our life believing the wise words of the, well, wise. We learn to rationalise all the messed up shit that went down because there must be a reason. Sometimes we question it, sometimes we don’t. And, we start to believe that after all is said and done, we will come out on top and have a wonderful, wonderful life. But we know what happens to the plans and expectations. They disappoint us more than they don’t. And, we are back to questioning everything that has happened. We lose the faith and we start the downward spiral to the burgeoning pit of hopelessness. We become a shell of ourselves, only sadder and depressed. That’s where love comes in. It finds us drowning in the deep end and throws the float. We hold on for our lives and it sails us through. And, when we get out of the pit, we leave behind the slabs of hopelessness tied to our feet that had been pulling us in, and throw our arms wide, welcoming a life full of excitement and opportunities. And, of course, love. Always, love.
She was the kind of girl
Who didn’t blink when you told her
She was pretty.
She was the kind
Who became giddy when you told her
Her words were pretty.
That’s what made her ecstatic.
That’s what made her feel alive.
Words, hers and yours.
No more love
(Because Seether has wonderful, wonderful music.)
7 saal baad kisi ne pucha
“kyun laut-ti thi baar baar?
Apne aatm-sammaan ko bech diya jaise.”
“koi bhaari karz chukaana tha shayad.
Abhi bhi baaki sa lagta hai kuch.”
Someone asked me after 7 years,
“Why did you go back again and again?
It’s as if you had no self-respect left.”
“I had to pay off a heavy debt, I guess.
I still feel like there’s some more left.”
Moonlight casts shadows.
Hides the wounds.
The vermilion invisible.
The cuts cloaked.
The pain peeks
From the cracks
In the armor
She’s been wearing
Since the first
Heartbreak at 16.
They asked me
How I first knew
I was in love.
When he held my hand
And jumped into a puddle
Of summer rain
On the sidewalk
One road over
From my house.