As I got ready for the dinner that everyone's been so eager about,I coundn't help but think about breakdowns, About how everyone has their own way of breaking down under the weight of life. Prejudiced little shit called life Some people ,like my mother, breakdown softly gently like a feather falling, they will persist through the day with red rimmed eyes,a tear or two and an occasional smile Some people are like my father, they hardly break They are ever-enduring, except for a silent tear slipping down from time to time. Some people shout and scream and then shout somemore and then they cry and scream again,like my sister,they breakdown loudly for the world to hear. And then there's me,the violent kid, when people like me breakdown They shout ,scream,cry and they love violence
I ,for instance, will throw anything within my hand's reach I will smash them and break them because I Believe they shoul feel the same way I do. inanimate objects breaking down.
Then there are people like my best friend Who will breakdown both physically and mentally.pushing themselves till tey crack. Doing everything with twice the intensity than usually required. My best friend in particular would raid the gym and try to kill herself herself hypothetically. she would train till her limbs are ready to drop and every single hair is out of place,and her eyes are aching and her head is pounding and she's barely able to hold herself up. And I would let her breakdown for I know thats how life works. It breaks you and then makes you
And then I would go to the gym and she would be lying on a treadmill,panting and she would see me and smile, and I would smile And that's how we'd know everything will be fine It isn't now but it will be.
But breakdowns are not always fleeting moment of rage and grief, atleast not always fleeting.there are chronic breakdowns too.the kind that can last for days or months or even years,the kind that seems like they'll never end. Those are the breakdowns that scare me the most because they are the breakdowns that break one's soul.
I personally have only ever known one person going through that kind of chronic breakdown And that person lived in the exact same house, i was going to, to attend the most spendid Christmas dinner banquet held in the entire town . Well,Shit.
There's too much caffeine and adrenaline inside me to make room for sleep I feel alive in the dead of the night A restless moth in a burning flame I wish I hadn't drank that coffee or debated wether the universe was male or female. I wish I was a normal teenager , one who thought that possessing a tinted lipbalm was a necessity in surviving as a teenager under female species And not someone who goes to every length possible to make sure she has a paper and a pen/pencil with her wherever she goes. I am liquescent And I have a tendency to go awry when the esplanade has just become straight I take "back to track" as a phrase equivalent with "lose your way" It was all the same to me It is so plain and obvious and yet nobody sees it . Sees the fact that I am free as a butterfly And That they should not try because they cannot pin me down. I flutter around in their world and in a world I consider mine . With my thoughts my words and my rules. In times when I simply go into the quietude , I am not ignoring them or being pretentious or serious for that instant,I have just withdrawn myself out from their world because I want to spent time in my world.its that simple Please go your way. ~ a small request. Find your world And stop interrupting me when I am in mine.
Children are ridiculous They draw pink elephants And colour oceans green And paint the sky the hue of honeyed marshmallows They make boring grey cats Look like creatures who created rainbows And dye leaves turquoise midnight blue And they are always stubborn to believe That Santa Claus exists Maybe he does For them.
When you were a child You used to colour beyond the lines Colouring bananas red And beaches purple
You were infinite, Until...... You were told to colour within the lines Told that the sky was always blue And leaves should be coloured green That the skin is always fair And lips forever red And when they assumed you were mature enough They declared to you that Santa Claus didn't exist And he didn't From that day onwards Because you stopped believing in him.
But you see, They were mistaken Because the universe hates disappointing those who have faith. Ask them who still believed in all the magic, They have seen the honeyed sky And rainbow cats Seen leaves stained raspberry pink And swam in green oceans And for them, Santa Claus still prevails Maybe with a neon green beard. So the next time, You paint a picture Or forge an art Wonder afar from the lines
Because I, I would love to see Pink elephants And kiss blue lips And eat the red banana I would cherish a stroll through the purple seashores And watch emerald sunsets
In the end, Be ridiculous. That's how we used to be.
Have you ever felt stuck Felt like everything around you is in motion Time is flowing Silence turns into noise Dawn is breaking Smiles are fading into frowns Frowns into smile Fists are unclenching Eyes are opening Someone somewhere has just taken their first breath But you are still you Stuck in the darkest hour of the night The infinite valley of uncertainty Time is frozen Screams stuck in your ears And you feel the barrier break The tears glide down From your lower eyelashes And drop gently inside To your outstretched palm And then Everything erupts You raise your head towards the sun But you only feel the darkness Getting thicker, blacker, deadlier Everything strives for balance To give you have to take That someone somewhere has also breathed their last You close your eyes and smile This is art Art is in pain Not pleasure And solitude, not loneliness is its birthplace The ache deep within you Is what keeps you alive That life is pain And death is numbness And you were never numb You are not a dead soul walking alive They feel no pain Hence couldn't perceive pleasure You are aware of your mistakes Your flaws Your wounds Your cracks Your imperfections Your scars And you reminisce about all the people You consider extraordinary And become aware that of all the things you have in common with them Are your Mistakes Those you have learned from.
Do I need to say how much I liked the gift Because honestly, I don't have words........... And that is a rare occurrence.
I always wondered What kind of bush the people who say life can change in the blink of an eye are beating around?
When I deeply think about it, I can hardly create a scenario where my life changes because of a few Seconds It's hard to When you haven't witnessed these life-changing moments anywhere except in books
Why then in real life such things appear so......... Unreal
That I keep hoping someday one of those many little things in the universe would potentially happen to me.
I know I am being selfish And in between this selfish rant of mine I often forget to be grateful
Here's to that forgetfulness :
First, for the words Second, for those who hold them Then, for love And to those Brave enough to give it And not expect it Third, for the process Next, to the end Cheers to the beginning Then to the lovely hatred Fourth, I would like to thank The discomfort and The unwelcomed pain Fifth, and let me finish To the numbers The labels The status quos The stereotypes The conspiracies And the theories told Thanks to you And to this marvellous feat For by thanking you I proudly deny to you My defeat.
Coincidence? Maybe not The only words That sneaked out Were heart-rending Those that should've Never been said aloud But there were more Words that held The truth before My made up lies The words that You so adamantly Ignored and subdued And when my eyes Witnessed the betrayal I started to rant Pushing things towards dismayal But Oh! How I failed And my tears came too late So our bond sailed away Away like the tidal wave
And the next day Rose the smiling sun Dried up my tears We searched for fun But somewhere inside I wouldn't know where A little of you died Even though you never knew You lived inside
Thus began the horrid pretending It was 28th and in sank the feeling That the love I needed Was from the beginning Till the end the corpse of who I thought Was a real friend.
"Yeah, it took me some time, but I figured out How to fix up a heart that I let down Now, I'm searchin' every lonely place Every corner callin' out your name Tryna find you, but I just don't know Where do broken hearts go?" ~1D
"Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward.
You start off the day with an upheaval Of your already weary But somehow young soul You roll the tip of your pen Across papers of sorts Writing the words You cannot comprehend
You sigh out The tedious, monotonous presumptions Of the world around you And breath in the Faint scent of hope Mingled with coffee
You see meaning In the meaningless Awaiting the meaning of whole
You witness the murder of imagination At the hands of brilliant minds Already imaginatively bankrupt
You drag yourself through the hedious alley Of dark secrets, Deep wounds, Unhealed scars, Bleeding emotions, Salty smiles, gut wrenching cries, And the demonic cult called life With your head held high.
You skid to a halt When you reach the exit Only to be dragged back again Where all of this started
You find the questions To those answers you have been seeking You realise time isn't a factor And life isn't the perpetual phenomenon Of suffering alone.
You are all that you have And love is your only source of energy
It is then where words come alive And imagination dances at the edge of your consciousness
You know your today Is someone's tomorrow You are a sense , a reason , a value
The world is matter And you are that small particle of antimatter Counting backwards to your annihilation. You are a force And the world is as ignorant As Newton was Before he discovered gravity.
tell me how long it takes to bring two minds of a world together as whole? there's a card in my books that keeps records; of blue he's and pink she's, but I'm purple now tell me where do I fit or would you write for me? I'm twenty already and I'm running out of fingers to count, tell me how long it takes to build a home in my body? there's a to-do list stuck right on your nose tip, so you don't have to put it into my business, but you're working and I'm waiting. I'll be thirty soon, still counting stars on my half of the sky, they say it's the same everywhere, but what burns in mine only flickers in your sight. the government says they believe in equality but I hear their papers made into trendy planes by their kids, so they go straight to a dustbin. I'm living with my blood and I can't change it, I'm purple and I'm human so tell me how long it takes to perfect my diffidence into a world I can, live without losing myself?
If I were to disappear like darkness into the night If I were to disappear like a raindrop into an ocean If I were to disappear like a shooting star would anybody notice my pen being lonely
If I were to crumble to pieces like a dried leaf allowing myself to lay beneath your feet would you try to piece me back or let me lay in defeat
If I were to shine like every other star could you point to me with conviction or would I blend in without any uniqueness
These insecurities of mine are fleeting for I'll disappear into waters of the drowning letting myself sink into the depths of the night I'll disappear like a shooting star burning above the earth in a blaze of self destruction then maybe I'll finally be remembered fondly by you
Once when I was young, I chased amber sunsets in my rainbow bicycle along the green hills I called home. Oh! But the ding dong of my bike's sing song made Old Yueri chuckle boyishly.
Once when I was young, I'd fashion hairdos out of mama's precious muslin scarves and wear her black stilettos to wobble around the kitchen, much to Papa's delight and mama's exasperated mortification.
Once when I was young, the marigolds and the hyacinths in our backyard stood taller than me and I'd stare and stare in green envy till (I fancy) I morphed into them and grew flowers out my bedazzled orbs.
Once when I was young, I raced in glee to the mountain's call. Perched atop his shoulder, I cupped my hands and yodelled aloud my love and pranced in mirth to hear the birds the animals echo back their love to me.
And now I've outgrown the flowers. The mountains, I love, grow houses out of them. But should I meet a fairy who'd humour me, I'd like to go back to chasing butterflies barefoot under the golden autumn sun every dreamy eve.
A drop of rain blinks On your forehead, There's a name For every teardrop Paragliding on your pale cheeks That used to be pretty when pinched, When the sky breaks down On a lonely morning And a song dies in your lungs Like a sudden weather disturbance, You offer a silent prayer And a thanksgiving For what doesn't kill you, And when night rolls in Like a magic carpet And sadness sweeps you away To never-never land, Breathless, You sink and float In a bubble breath to survive the mayhem, Wishing for a starlight To take you to the edge of a daydream And kiss your pain for the last time, You patiently wait For healing to knock on your door.