Freedom

You probably need an internal revolt;

Every cell up in arms against your colonisers;

Declaring a battle against that ex

Whose memory has chained you;

Whose built his palace on your ruins;

Maybe you need to scream your war cry

Against that ‘friend’ who feeds glass to your misery;

You need to set up a guerilla trap

Against your anxiety;

Giving it a taste of its own medicine.

You need to draw your battle lines

Sometimes against yourself;

That version which conspires to bring you down;

Every minute. Every second.

You need freedom;

You need a war;

And sometimes you’ll be the soldier

Or the enemy;

But better to try;

Than to live the illusion of independence.

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A musical undoing

Music has a way of undoing you. Over time, you are able to put yourself together. You are already grappling with changes and the ones that will take place, and one song is able to tear it all apart. And just when you are at the brink of taking a leap, there you are finding pieces of yourself once again. For some, this is an on-going search and for a lucky few, they are able to do this in no time.

Some days, I really want to shake myself. This behaviour seems too unrealistic and unreasonable. More than to others, you owe yourself some opportunities. And you cannot let some music, which is laced with memories, take them away from you.

It is not necessary that re-establishing ties with a He and She will restore everything to normalcy. You long for that time and not those people. And there are times when you will fancy a conversation with those people, but why give the baton of your peace to someone else?

Thinking these ‘what-if’ probabilities about this He and She might just cost you an opportunity, which could do with some attention. They have crafted their happy beginning and you are yet to begin your story. So where will your loyalty be?

Let the river of nostalgia flow with all its might. It is not necessary for you to wash your hands in it all the time. Create the flow of your story than overflowing in someone else’s memory.

Moving on.

Moving on…

These two words, simple as they seem, hold various connotations for different people. To some it could mean going away from a particular person whereas to others it might mean letting go a part of life. As I said, it seems similar, but there is a lot of subjectivity here. A friend’s story shed more light on the complexities revolving around moving on. Here it is:  Continue reading

Indelible

The words flew back into the crevices of her heart,

The ink splattered hands spookily looked clean,

It went back into the pot of her memories,

The diary looked new as ever,

What couldn’t change was the mark on her heart,

It was indelible just like pain,

It deepened whenever she met a man.