She cut quite a plaintive figure standing there. A slight girl dressed in clothes too big for her, she stood on the doorstep, one hand on the doorknob and the other in the pocket of her shorts. She watched him walk away and I could see that it was taking immense effort for her not to break down. He turned once and smiled at her. She smiled back at him and blew him a kiss. The moment he turned away, her smile faded. In that moment, watching her watching him, I could see the fear and pain she had been pushing away. In that moment before she could put her mask on again, I could see how much she loved him and the future she could never have.

Then she shook her head and smiled, in control again, weakness buried, fear quelled, if only for a while. She walked inside closing the door behind her.

I gave the door one last look and walked away.

Fools

We are very good at lying to ourselves. At fooling ourselves into believing everything is perfectly fine. At making our mind believe that our lives are just how we want them to be.

We are very good at hiding the truth. We conveniently tide over those things that scare us or we just pretend that they don't exist. We lock away all our doubts and fears so they won't haunt us anymore. We smile and we laugh and we wear our masks in all their glory. We cover cracks and scrapes with glue and tape and pretend that they've been fixed. We hide away the pain and the tears and we tell ourselves that it'll all get better in the end. We fool ourselves. Lie to ourselves. Every day.

Which is why when we see the end coming, we try our best to pretend we don't. When we find ourselves losing control, we clench our fists harder and lie a little more. We rejoice in denial. And revel in illusions.

And then reality hits. At our weakest moments. When we are tired of lying and our hands are too weary to hold up our masks. That's when reality attacks and shows us what we've been trying so hard to avoid. That life isn't fine or happy or okay. Things have gone wrong and people will leave. The end is close and heartbreak is near. That life isn't what we've made it out to be.

Reality bites. And we are left to pick up the pieces.

For once

I wish, for once in my life, I could let go. That for once, I didn’t have to worry or bother about everyone else. That for once I didn’t have to protect everyone else. That for once I didn’t have to be the responsible one.

I wish, for once in my life, I could be the one taken care of. I could be the one who got the hug because I needed it. That I could for once, let go of everything and enjoy myself, like everyone else. That for once people understood that I am not a party-pooper and that I just care a lot. That I want people to be safe. That I don’t see the humour in embarrassing situations. That I care.

I wish, for once in my life, I could be reckless. Without wondering and caring about the consequences. That for once I could do something without thinking about it a thousand times. That for once, I could do something stupid and careless. That for once, I made a story that one day, I could look back and laugh at. That one day, I could do something that I could tell my grandchildren about. That there was one time I did something I wanted to without caring about being a hypocrite or a liar. Without questioning myself.

I wish I could let myself feel. I wish I had it in me to be uninhibited.

I wish, for once I wasn’t the weak link. That I was the foundation, the glue instead. That for once I wasn’t taking charge. That for once there was someone I could count on to catch me if ever I did let go.

For once in my life, I want to be needed. I want to be wanted.

For once in my life, I want to be able to really live. Without judging myself for it.

Fear is so debilitating. And the future is the scariest thing of them all. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares come. The questions, the doubts, the fears. I wake up in a cold sweat, forgetting where I am, fighting to breathe. The nightmares still vivid.

So much uncertainty. So many chances for failure. So much left to luck or the vagaries of fate.

No one to trust. Anger and jealousy never far from the surface, stoked by the vile hands of fear.

It is a fear that chokes. For even words, those simple yet powerful charms, do not come. Sentences are left incomplete.

It is fear that overwhelms and consumes. And what makes it worse is that there is no one in the world who can help you. And you have to fight it alone. For everyone leaves and everyone has demons of their own.

It is a fear that makes thoughts tumble out with no sense of head or tail. It makes the strongest crumble into blithering idiots. It rules the mind.

There is nothing you can do but give in to it.

Fare thee well.

It's a nicer thing to say when compared to a simple good bye. It shows that you genuinely mean the other person well when you leave. With no malice intended.

Good bye, on the other hand, seems impersonal and too simple.

So I say to you, fare thee well.

Stay happy. Stay safe. And follow your heart.

Remember that there will always be a place for you in mine.

Man craves company. He craves a response, an acknowledgement. A validation. Proof that he matters. The desire to be heard is built into everyone right from the very time one is born. Right from the very time you scream when you are hungry so that someone listens and feeds you to the time you talk when sad so that someone can comfort you.

Life is spent in a continuous struggle to make yourself indispensable and important to someone. A continuous attempt to be heard, to be noticed.

And life is also a series of disappointments.

The point is, when do you stop getting up after you've fallen down? And when do you stop talking when you realize no one's listening?

Wham, Bam, Boom

You fall to new lows everyday. And constantly struggle to come back to the level you used to be at.

The thing is, the harder you try to climb to the top, the faster you slip to the bottom.

You grovel for attention. You can't deal with separation. The dark scares you. And loneliness lets the nightmares attack. You pounce on the scraps of respect that people dole out. You look for meaning in empty words. You dream of the impossible and hope it'll come true even though you know it won't. You expect what you don't deserve.

Eventually, you look into the mirror and can't meet your own eyes because you have fallen so very hard, so very fast and you're ashamed of it.

That's when you know for sure.

Change is a cruel mistress. It turns you into your worst nightmare.

And there is no coming back from where you've ended up.