Rise From The Ashes

That's life! It breaks you down to tiny molecules. Burns tiny bits of you to ashes. To an extent, parts of you are lost or whisked away by the wind. Only so that some day, in a different season... When the sea is calmer, the clouds have cleared and the flowers begin to bloom, that is when you rise from the ashes. You rise from the ashes with not just limbs but wings that let you soar high into that sky. 
Beyond weather, beyond needs. 
Above the clouds and the sea.

So high that you can't hear the sounds any more. All you hear then is the tranquillity of space and heaven. You see the infinity of the sky and realise that heaven is nothing but perfection.

A letter from all those who relate to the ones who don't:

Dear lover,

Please don't be predictable this one time. 

I know it is a little dangerous to ask for something like this because I might just encounter another level of human atrocity. 

Please don't tell me you will cheat on me. I have had far too much of the mundane.

Please give me a new story to tell this one time if you choose to leave.

Please tell this one time that it is me and not you. Please tell me that I am at fault. I lacked somewhere and I failed you. Because, dear love, you have failed me just too many times.

Love, tell me that when you leave, you will take away whatever is yours and return to me whatever belongs to me. The list includes my self respect, my strength, my youth and my ability to heal.

It is not about the warmth of your hug. I couldn't care less about it right now. When you leave, please spare the warmth that is mine. It makes for the right temperature for the fire within me to burn. Don't take away my fire either.
Please don't turn me into something I am not. Don't change me into someone I don't aspire to be. 

My love, tell me you will not blame me for your shortcomings. You will take the blame for your faults and hopefully never repeat them with anyone else. For no one deserves such pettiness. 

I want to wish you well, so don't lie to me and say you still love me. I don't want to be loved by you anymore. I am an improved version of my self each day. If you are not improving, then I want the latest improved, better-ed version of love. I want to love myself too, hence I am teaching myself that I deserve better.

My love, if you are trained to hear an apology but can't utter it genuinely yourself, please walk out now before you give me some silly excuses about walking out on me.

It is best you walk out in silence and leave the door behind you just a little open. Enough for sorrows to escape and enough for me to peep through if new love wants to come in.

Love, don't leave the wires of our music system entangled. I might want to move out in a hurry, and carry with me the music of our love in happier times with me. Entangling the wires of our systems would only delay you and me.

Please don't test my patience and my resilience. It is not for you to test. You were to be my partner, not my interrogator.

Take your stinky socks and used under wears with you. My house is not a free laundry junction. Your junk is yours. Your baggage is yours.

My lover, please don't be shocked if Karma slaps you in the face real hard. By the time it slaps you, chances are I would be better off and would have made best friends with it.

You and I, cannot be friends any more.

With a lot of satisfaction

And very little regard,

Me

Karma

Learning to sift the important battles from the unimportant battles in life, is something age and experience teach you.  To fight such battles or not is perhaps one of the most important choices you make in your life for your sanity, for your peace and for the rest of your life.
And then there are certain battles which are not a matter of choice, you just have to submit and go through them. Fight your best. Sometimes you enter such battles knowing you'd lose but you still submit to the fact that a fight is worth a try.
I am fighting such battles constantly with no clue of where the end lies. With questions that constantly haunt me, whether life is fair? Whether being just and fair is the right way to fight a battle? Whether I am fighting the right battles in the first place or not!
How else do you justify people constantly walking over you? How else do you justify your self worth being used as a pocha cloth? How else do you justify blows to one's confidence when they really don't deserve it? Why is one's self worth measured on scales of other people who probably ain't even equipped enough or respectable enough themselves to judge others?
What or who answers these questions? What or who is to be blamed for this mess of mine called life? Is it THE universe? or is it MY karma?
Either ways, I haven't found mercy as yet.

Discoveries. Definitions.

I just discovered that if you keep hurting the same part of your body over and over again, eventually the nerve endings there, would all die. In short, you'll stop feeling the pain and become numb. The thought is pretty morbid at one level. On another level, it just a change of state. On another level, its a lesson on life, death and existence. On another, its hurt and pain and even murder.
Oscar Wilde wrote that it's not that certain writers just write about grim, morbid things. They are writers. They can write whatever they want to. It is just choice they make. Some only chose to write the grim bit because after all...someone will have to.
I am still trying to understand it. Cant say I understand it completely. But whatever little understanding I possess of it...I think it somewhere makes me feel better. I have always struggled with writing fake-happy stuff. It just never comes out right.
I also feel it is ok to feel sad. I don't think there is anything wrong with it. It is the hypocrisy of happiness that I have a problem with. Where people live in a strange denial. Where they feel if they force happiness on themselves...they will be happy. Not just this...they even try to force it on others sometimes.
I think I am still learning my definitions of many of these words in the dictionary that I thought I had already learnt about in my school textbooks. Seems like I learnt them...didn't quite understand them.
To new beginnings, learnings and discoveries...
Happy New Year to all reading this.

Do you love me as much?

Each soul is born with some sort of purpose. Or at least some sort of a plan, if not purpose.
For everyone else it can be whatever they choose. For me, I think, it is the discovery of relationships. Of human beings. Of how people feel and moreover how deeply they feel what they feel. I know how completely I immerse myself in feelings. I never allow myself to not feel something. Good or bad. Pain or joy. Tears. Pricks. Healing. Silence. Disappointments. Ego. Pride. Failure. Success. Courage. Fear. Everything. I never escape the joy of 'feeling' something, of actually being able to experience it. It makes me feel alive. I wonder if others feel all of this too. For instance I know I haven't met anyone till date who loves the way I love. But then again, love can not be quantified or even expressed by everyone alike. I don't know if people really fear something if they fear. Or pride something as much or experience pain with the same intensity as I do. I don't know if people feel cheated or let down the same way as I do. If they do happen to feel all of that, just the same way I do, I don't think they'd have the courage to let anyone down. Or hurt them. Or even have the courage to watch them cry. They'd love infinitely and never let anyone go. What is love if its definition changes from person to person? Isn't cold and cough the same for every one? Isn't cancer alike for us all? Then why are feelings and emotions and their intensities according to individual conveniences? Why can't it all be alike? Homogeneous? Isn't that how it's supposed to be?

Blink

Time passed is all the same. It's all a blink. If today I choose to forget all that I remember, it would also include how old I am. In that case I start now. With no measure of time spent or lived. In that case, its all a blink. It is then, you and me, start anew. Start fresh. Start equal. Start as foolish. Start as wise. In that case, you and me are no different. What is infancy, youth and age? Its relative. Its relative to who you are to who I am. Can words encompass all that we are, all that we live, feel or understand? Or maybe words are a realm too! Maybe.

The Waiting Chair

I think the whole blog is worth linking but for now, its this one post.
http://www.iwrotethisforyou.me/2012/10/the-waiting-chair.html