It’s funny how we spend our entire life running after something we don’t even want in the first place. The irony of it is so wicked.

I once knew someone who kept running after love. And love was the one thing she’d never get. The mirages kept her going on with an iron resolve and when she finally found love, all the she wanted was to lose it.

It scares me, how often these days I wake up wishing things that I shouldn’t be wishing. I am becoming this terrible person. These animal urges, these raw animal desires. All I wanted was love. And all that I can think of is the hatred that boils deep inside of me.

I have no love. Perhaps never had any. I hate the people who are happy. Hate the ones who do not begin their days with tears and end them the same way. I hate this worls and every single living being in it.

Today I saw a dead woman on the road. A bus just hit her. Her crushed body lay on the busy road. The policemen clearing the crowd that had built up and surprisingly, I didn’t turn my face away the way I am used to. I simply looked at the corpse and wished it was me who had perished in this manner. Lying on a road, away from home, with no one to claim me. I wished it was me and my thoughts shocked me.

I am too afraid to wish anymore. Too scared to want anything. I just want this to end.

Please God… make it stop.

Of Freedom and Memories

She stood at the edge and looked around. The air smelled damp. Like every year, moonsoons had played peekaboo this year too. In the clouded sky, the moon was somewhere lost. She know that even though the sky was overcast, it wasn’t going to rain. Not yet.

The lands might be parched, people dying of thirst but sometimes… just sometimes, god wants to play with us. Peekaboo.

From where she stood, the houses looked small. The cars looked small. She took a deep breath. Once more the warmth in the air hit her lungs like a sack full of metal. She was swaying now, almost ready to collapse. Steadying herself on the edge of the building was not an easy job. Yet, she had to do it. It was not time yet. The goodbyes had to be said.

She closed her eyes slowly and mentally scanned the faded memories. There has to be one… there has to be one, she chanted. Finally she selected the one where he lay on her stomach and she lay on his back, kissing him everywhere. Smiling, laughing.

Yes. That should do.

She opened her eyes. Smiled. She had to do this before the distant memory slipped away once again from her realm.

Another deep breath…. and then light. Eternal light. And freedom.

Finally. No chains.

Of Augury and Hurt Pride

So he’s gone and got married. The one who drove me to alcohol. It seems strange to see him with his pretty white wife. The facebook picture that just screams at me. Pretty. That’s the word. Pretty, which I never was. At least not for him.

Seeing him sitting with her just makes me realize how wrong I was for him. How stupid to have believed that he could have ever went beyond first impressions. How senseless to have believed that anything good could have come out of the liaison…

Seeing him with her just makes me realize how ugly I am…

What seems stranger is that though he moved on years ago and has now got himself a pretty petite brunette, he still uses my words to pass himself off as a dreamer. No he isn’t all that he claims through my words. My words were not meant for him to cloak himself from the world. He is still the same son of the preacher man. The same freak he used to be. But something has changed. Not with him, but with me.

Once, I hated him for hurting me. Today, I hate him for being happy.