I’ve thought long and hard about the words that describe the way I feel about you. 

Sometimes I think of you as the moon. Your soft heart and reassuring hands; tranquilizing every fear that crosses me. Your voice brings comfort and placidity to the deepest crevices of my ever mangled heart. 

Sometimes I think of you as a bluebird. You carry with you the exuberance of falling in love everyday like the very first time. Your calm brings calm to every leaf and every dew drop that falls from it. 

Sometimes I think of you as the sun. The brightness of your eyes igniting atom after atom and your smile sending waves of lukewarm shivers down my spine. Your arms causing my entire being to melt in your clasp and your lips burning my lips along with an eternal flame inside my soul. 

I’ve thought long and hard about the words that describe the way I feel about you. But everytime I begin, I’m consumed by thoughts of you, falling into a fantasy, just the way I want to be, waiting on a hope, every second of every day of my life. 

 It's not hard to see but the ignorance of the world is not so blissful. What once was something to obsess over has now become this distant and unreachable ball of fog. But you love fog. You love how daunting it looks from afar, and the uncertainty of what lies beyond it. You love how it disperses into beautiful little beads of nothing when you come close and yet somehow you feel encircled by a cold and familiar embrace. You’ve dreamt about it for years now and each time you wake up and find the sun shining it's face down on you, it makes you feel nothing. One would feel happy and full of energy, and wonder what more to ask for when the brightest stars are smiling at you from this vast horizon. But the light, it fades away. It brings a kind of darkness with it that merely promises of a new day. Nothing changes. Day after day, night after night. Dreams dreamt with eyes open wide turned into false hope for a heart that was empty inside.

You know better than to chase the fog. It’s not something you can touch or keep but it passes by each day, hugging you with a reassurance that it’s looking out. Listening. Watching you put on your sweater and pull up your socks on a cold winter morning, struggling to get the kettle going while managing a weak smile. 

You know better than to cling on, desperately trying to feel a blissful sense of transcendence free from the anguish inside your desolate heart. You remember every little detail that every ounce of your miserable being has tried to leave behind. The fear of merely crossing paths, sending waves of unresolved confusion and being unable to hold yourself together is what keeps you at a safe distance. 

You know better than to let the flame touch your stoical insides and let it reignite the same old desire, burning down everything but leaving soft glowing embers to thaw your freezing soul. It cannot be comprehended, the affliction of tearing your leaves apart from the bough that has already given in. The cloud of joy was yours for a while, and while it’s bizarre appeal made you smile your widest smile, it took away bits that left you crippled and confused, unable to go on. 

It’s the daintiness of the beautiful little dew drop that travels from leaf to leaf until it reaches a parched Weebill. While you resonate with the quench of the bird that meanders through arid land, you don’t realise that the dew drop that was once in your very possession has slipped through the spaces between your fingers when all you did was try to hold on.

Your misery grows each time you think about the plethora of possibilities that could be. Fleeting moments of immense happiness that painted your dull sky with every hue, seem distant yet fresh. You can neither run towards nor can you turn away. You can’t go on now. The only thing that keeps you glued is the realisation that it’s too late. It’s a pedestal that you have created where nothing else sits right. You only wish to touch the fog. You wish to burn with the flame. You wish the cloud would rain on you with a Weebill calling your name. 

"People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget... There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living. " 

- Stephen Carpenter

There are things I wish I could mold in better words and explain. Good things, bad things. Hurtful things. And things that have caused me to believe that life must go on.

Although it's been a while since I've shed a tear or laughed out loud, it's hard to accept and move on. I guess It's time to close my eyes and believe. Time to trust my fate. Also, I guess it is time I should start convincing myself that my world will still turn around, even without you around.

"Blow wind, to where my loved one is;
Touch him and come touch me soon,
I'll feel his gentle touch through you;
And meet his beauty in the moon.
These things are much for one who loves;
A person can live by them alone,
That he and I breathe the same air;
And that the earth we walk upon is one."

Patience will take you far.

Take twin mounds of clay,
Mold them as you wish, you may.
Shape one mound after me,

Shape the other after thee.
Then quickly break them both,

Remix and remake them both.
One will be formed after thee,

The other formed after me,
for,

Part of my clay is thine,

Part of thy clay is mine.

He was messing with her head yet again. Nora knew better than to take things to heart and start crying for that man. And yet, when her eyes welled up with warm, salty tears that trickled down to her lips, she knew she was in for a rough night.
A million thoughts swirled about in her mind, and what dominated those thoughts was the pain she felt. Deep inside her chest, her heart ached and cried out for him. It never made sense to her that she
should cry over something so trivial.
Trivial, for him. She would never associate the word trivial with anything related to him. Every word he spoke, every action and everything about him had no less than a huge impact on her life. She couldn't possibly understand why he wouldn't understand the fact that he was her life.

What was she to do? She didn't think it clever to give up her life to prove her love for him. That was just plain stupid and of course, she was a coward. Wasn't there an easier way out? She pressed on to that question as the pain lingered on.
Her body ached and she was tired as hell, not forgetting the terrible wave of flu she had been having for a week now. She lay on her back and lifted her arms and then her legs into the air, just to make sure they were still functioning. And that she was still alive. She kicked her purple and cream blanket aside furiously and frowned when she realized that she indeed was.

What had she done this time? She couldn't place a finger on it. She remembered him keaving abruptly while they talked about the Batman movies  They always had fights, but Nora knew that this was the first time he had left that way. And for what? Just because she wasn't her usual talkative self and was ill? She had expected a little sympathy and she got something way better..insensitive/ confusing behaviour, and this. A night that just wouldn't pass.
With her eyes closed, she tried counting sheep but her lids shot open before she could say 'five'. This wouldn't work.
Nothing would, in fact. Because as much as she tried to ignore the fact, it was true. Nora knew things between them were changing. She let her mind drift.
Two years, it had been two years and she still loved him with all her life. He would always be her top priority and she still would die for a minute with him even after all these years.
But she wasn't sure if he felt the same way.

She knew that he loved her, of course he did. She trusted him with her life over this fact. But it wasn't enough anymore. How would she make him realize that they had come a long way from being just a couple? He had become a necessity for her. Her friends would tell her that she was obsessed and though she would shush these accusations, Nora knew deep down that they were right.
She had become so used to him. So much so, that she would easily go without eating or getting any sleep at all, but a day without him would make her lose her nuts.
But did he feel the same way? She doubted it, but she couldn't blame him. He was the guy, after all. She liked to believe that all guys were like that.

If these walls could talk,
you'd know my body is dead,
my mind has been taken over,
that's why I am so scared,
I can't control it,
anger is making me blind,
I've been left here on my own
chained to a hate of some kind.

If these walls could talk,
you'd know about my fears,
about all those nights I screamed for help,
about all my fallen tears.
You'd know about the demons
haunting me at night,
you'd be able to help me
and keep my fire alight,

If these walls could talk
they would say that it's all right,
God sends His angels
to look over me at night.
They'd gently pat on me,
say though I am alone
it doesn't mean I'm on my own.
He watches me, from above
and showers me with his love,  

If only, these walls could talk.
(NM)

What I have seen in the past few days cannot actually be put into words and this is merely just giving it a shot. It's not easy to describe how you feel when you're locked up inside your house in your own country, with a complete warzone outside. Gunshots, explosions, choppers, chants, screams. Fear. Living in constant fear that a wandering bullet might reach your doorstep, or a loved one. Trying to zone out from the racket outside by playing loud music on your headphones. Constantly telling yourself to quit googling for updates just so you remain at peace for the next few minutes thinking that everything is alright.

It got better, of course. There's no more violence. There's peace in the country and yet, not in the mind or the heart. Nothing feels right. My smiles are plastic and laughs, weary. Why is my head so messed up? I don't know what to do to make this better. People seem to piss me off all the time even if all they're trying to do is being nice or express how they feel. I told myself that I need a break, but really, how many times has that actually helped?

I need to recover. A lot has happened, and what I've mentioned is just a minor part of it. It's too much to take. I've forgotten how it feels like to be genuinely happy with your life. To smile from your heart and laugh till your intestines start popping out.  I miss that. 

I hope I find my happy place soon. Because this IS too much to take. And I have a little brain.

No wonder my brother calls me a 'birdbrain'. =/ Sigh.