Fashioned with the essence of her feelings, a new color she had made. Dipping the tip of the brush that was her self-respect, she had made him portraits of her heart. They showed the deepest darkness that resided in the crevices of the blood pumping, overhyped version of the organ.
Dripping the thick red drops of her life blood, she had made paintings that were now the ashes accumulating around the fire she had started with gasoline laced with hatred he oozed and poison he hurled at her. The beauty that she had brought to life with the heart blood that with every pump screamed of her adoration for him was nothing more than ashes of her heart now.
Staring at the flames dancing, as if rejoicing in her slow demise, her need to get back up and paint the world an opaque so dark that nobody would see anything but her brave, young heart, roared. She wasn’t a lowly shell of a being who would let go of the beauty that was her just because she knew how this world works now. She was a fire that wouldn’t die just as easily.
And, so to keep it going, she threw the past as wood, sprinkled with the very color she had fashioned with the essence of her feelings. The roaring amber was a sight to behold. With hair flying in the wind of courage and eyes sparkling with the gold of the fire, she became a new person. She became a person she could be proud of. She became a person who created entire galaxies of memories to fill up the deep, dark pit where her heart once beat, echoing his name. Now, it echoed her own.
She sat still on the windowsill
Looking down at the street below.
The mother of 4 juggling the groceries,
The mad man singing about getting killed on Friday,
The vagabond trying to sell rattraps to whoever would look him in the eye,
The giggling girls talking about boys they’ve loved before.
She sat there, staring, and speculating.
She was there. And, yet not.
She was thinking about the time gone by.
She was thinking about the days wasted.
She was thinking about the past that flew by her, unnoticed.
She wanted to live again, and not just exist.
She wanted to take it all in, and not just breathe.
She wanted her life back.
She wanted to live.
I won’t moralise about what I’ve learned but I can tell you this: in my experience, telling the truth can land you in just as much shit—err, crap, as lying. More sometimes. Sure, a lie can trap you; it can crush you immediately or slowly weigh you down until you suffocate. But telling the truth won’t necessarily set you free; it can cost you everything you love the most. And it can force you to face yourself, as painful as that may be.
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.
WARNING: LONG-ASS POST REVEALING MY DARKEST SECRETS, USING UP WORDS I COULD WRITE HUNDREDS OF POEMS WITH.
Okay, so, it’s been a long while since I did a tag. A really long while. But since I like you, SW, I am doing this for you. And, only because this one has decent get-to-know-you-better questions and not the lame-ass questions most tags have. (Not that I have that many readers left wanting to get to know me better now since I disappear all the fucking time.)
1. What are you currently wearing?
A pink cropped top and bottoms with adorable police cars, and taxis, and trucks on them. (Yes. I am that childish.)
2. Have you ever been in love?
Nope. Probably won’t ever be.
3. Have you ever had a terrible breakup?
No. No relationships, no breakups. I don’t need tragedy to be as tragically dramatic as I am.
4. How old are you?
5. How tall are you?
5′ 4.456″. (The. 456 is of utmost importance.)
6. Do you have any piercing?
Just the standard lobe piercing. I want to get a conch, daith, or a snug piercing soooo damn bad though.
7. What’s your favorite drink?
Water. Hands down.
8. What’s your favorite song?
Not much of a fan of “favorites”. I love music. All music. I am currently listening to Gin Wigmore’s Saturday Smile and Awolnation’s Sail a lot though. So.
9. What’s your zodiac sign?
Gemini. (Yep. There’s a reason I have bipolar-esque tendencies.)
10. How long does it take for you to shower?
I am anti-shower. Not anti-bathing, mind you. ANTI-SHOWER. The amount of water we waste every time we shower? GOD. I can’t even.
But, yes. If it’s the bathing time we are talking about, 8-10 minutes, most days.
11. What’s your favorite show?
Political dramas like Reign and mystery dramas like Lost. I want to watch Suits. But I will wait till the series concludes. GoT, too. But, again, still ongoing.
12. What’s your favorite band?
Awolnation, All Time Low, Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Breaking Benjamin, Guns N Roses, Three Days Grace, Aerosmith, Queen, Linkin Park, Bon Jovi, Imagine Dragons, System of a Down, Twenty One Pilots, The Rolling Stones, Green Day, Coldplay, Snow Petrol, The Cure, Maroon 5, Fall Out Boy, CNCO, One Republic, Dixie Chicks, Little Mix, Paramore.
13. Something you really miss?
Guzraa hua waqt.
Very dramatic. But, yes.
14. Where do you go when you are sad?
Inside a book, I guess.
Physically though? The upper sitting in my home. It’s a little elevated place with the floor totally covered by a huge mattress and it closes off from the rest of the house by some curtains.
15. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
10 minutes, give or take a couple of minutes.
16. Have you ever been in a physical fight?
Yes. It’s mostly screaming matches now though.
17. What turns you on?
Quick wit, great conversational skills, well-dressed and well-groomed people (Someone who looks like they give a shit about how they look.), they should sound good (As vain as that is. People who poop when they open their mouths are a no-go.).
Also, these don’t “turn me on” but I like dimples (I wanted some for me, but, well, it doesn’t work that way so, I appreciate it on other people) and tall people (I love heels. Ridiculously high heels. So.).
18. What turns you off?
BO, dull people, sexist assholes, MCPs, slow walkers, slow talkers, slow everything, really.
19. Qualities you look for in a partner?
I don’t? Look for a partner, that is. So, no qualities either.
20. What’s your favorite color?
Gray, black, white.
21.Loud music or soft?
All music. At a high volume.
22. Favorite quote?
“It is written.”
“Whatever happened happened.”
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
Could I BE any more of a cliché, considering the name of my blog?
23. Favorite actor?
Don’t have any.
24. Do you have any fears?
Drowning. I don’t know how to swim. I can’t bring myself to learn. It’s safe to say, I sit at the shallowest end of the pool if I ever have to. Love the ocean though.
25. What’s the last thing that made you cry?
I cry at every little thing. Someone loses someone close to them in a book? Waterworks. A parent died in a movie? Heavy Rains. You are advised to stay home. Someone who I know remotely dies? Floods. My maa yells at me? Cloud burst. Everybody in the proximity is dead.
26. Last time you said you loved someone?
It’s been a while.
27. Last book you read?
Probably a YA novel. I was also reading Nikita Gill and Rupi Kaur’s poem collections. God are they beautiful.
28. The book you are currently reading?
None at the moment. I was planning on reading Dongri to Dubai though. It’s based on Dawood Ibrahim’s life? Yep. Totally experimenting with serious non-fiction.
29. Last show you watched?
Um okay. This is my secret shame. But, The Originals.
30. Last place you were?
I have been home since yesterday evening. But I was at the gym last if that counts.
31. Last sport you played?
Does throwing around the Frisbee count? If not, is aerobics a sport or a dance from? Or yoga? If none of these count, then badminton or football. Not sure.
32. Who’s the last person you talked to?
33. The last song you sang?
Saturday Smile by Gin Wigmore.
34. Favorite chat up line?
I hate “chatting people up”. I am the person who lets hundreds of texts collect before she even opens WhatsApp. I prefer the serious conversations with a halt. A few texts here. A few texts there. I hate making small talk.
35. Do you have a crush?
36. The relationship between you and the last person you texted?
My mausi’s (maternal aunt’s) best friend. Or maybe it was a friend. I can’t recall.
37. Favorite food?
Anything without a face minus apple guard.
38. Place you want to visit?
Is everywhere too ambitious?
39. What’s the last time you kissed someone?
No kissing and telling.
40. Last time you were insulted?
Generally I am the one hurling insults. But my cousin tends to get away with flinging a couple at me as revenge. It happened earlier in the week.
41. What’s your favorite sweet?
Moong ki daal ka halwa. I will give my left kidney for a bowl of that right now.
42. What instruments do you play?
I used to play the synthesiser back in the day. I try to strum my mother’s guitar. But I suck at it. And, I want to learn to play violin and piano. Some day. Sigh
43. Favorite piece of jewelry?
44. Last time you hung out with anyone?
A couple of weeks back. It was a childhood friend. We had a falling out a few years ago. We mended our friendship.:”)
I am not doing the nominating thing. Whoever is in the mood to share too much information about themselves, go ahead.
Ghosts blew through the deserted corridors of his soul like gusts of cold wind. His eyes. It looked like nothing resided in those icy blue globes. But for a fleeting second I saw whole universe swimming in there. Then the shutters dropped as if it never was. That half-grin of his was just that –a wry twist of his lips, trying to hide the real beauty behind it. It was nothing like his real smile. That was a breathtaking sight. When he smiled, people stopped and stared. But he didn’t do it often. No. It was as if he was afraid of smiling; as if the reason behind it would be taken away from him if he showed even a sign that he was a normal, lovable person. He acted like an emotionless, ice-hearted asshole who only did what he wanted to without giving a shit about anyone. But, I saw the truth. I saw that he was a guy with heart of gold and most colorful mind.
Those whiskey eyes Drenched in her heart blood, Staring silently into the darkness. Long eyelashes wet With the dew of her soul’s rains. The dark half moons under her amber jewels More pronounced than ever. They are the I’ve-seen-it-all eyes, Laden with experiences of numerous lives past. She has no crow’s feet. She’s young. But her precious eyes tell a different story. She’s lived through it all. Those liquid gold eyes have been witness. Numbness is her friend. Her eyes know it even better.