I feel I was born with a reading list I’ll never finish.
As Haruki Murakami said when people open their hearts, they get better.
Rightly said, joy, when shared, unravels and pain, when shared dwindles.
However, sometimes healing isn’t an option. Healing changes us in such a way that we can never be the same again. Every wound we go through takes a toll on us, whether body or soul.
Time doesn’t heal. It merely diminishes, eventually leaving a scar. Scars have the power to remind us that the past actually happened. The past was real. Scars signify the hurdles we’ve been through. No medicine can erase the scars that stains our souls from the wounds we’ve been through.
These scars are an opening into the most beautiful part of our souls.
Some people see scars,
Wounds, they remember.
To all of us,
It should be proof of the fact,
That there is healing.
Scars aren’t ugly. Scars are to be seen as a sign of beauty. Scars do not mark the dead or the dying. A scar means, you survived.
Scars are tattoos with better stories.
Denial lays down boundaries, defines where our limits lie, define what we are entitled and not entitled to do.
I’m sure a feminist would be able to give a speech on the real meaning of denial. I, on the other hand, find it extremely “clichéd”. Perhaps ‘cos I haven’t been so unfortunate as to go through such an incident.
Denial is the final answer to a question, disregarding any further argument.
But, as human tendency works, people find it encouraging to do something they’ve been forbidden to.
Admit it, all of us want to be legendary rule-breakers. For instance, when people come to know that I, a teenager, read “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy, they stare at me wide-eyed. The prominent reason I read FSOG was ‘ços I was curious to find out why my parents forbid me to do so. My parents would never allow me to read an erotica revolving around BDSM. That’s the reason I picked the book up. The reason we tend to break rules is ‘cos we are denied to do so.
But, really on a humorous note denial from a woman can have a sarcastic edge to it.
However, an honest and straight-forward denial stops and discontinues any act on the person’s part, in the context of violence, rights, morality, and what-not.
What is life?
I say life is living on the cusp of fiction and reality.
It is better to cross the line and suffer the consequences than walking on the line for the rest of your life.
Life is standing on the precipice of a whole big cliff, your jump leads you into the unknown. The thin line you stand upon is as risky as the valley beneath you.
Life is the path weaving between the walls of fantasy and cosmos. In order to safely get through you must cross over to one side. Standing on the cusp will only cause a disturbance. Walking on the cusp will lead you nowhere, just leave you all the more confused. Life will be successful only if you make a choice. Walking on the cusp will only make you more confused and not assist in clearing your fogged mind, not offer you a choice except to choose any one side. The decision you take decides your life.
I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.
I love the word “later”, It holds a promise. A promise to meet in the future, to continue into the unknown, into whatever the future holds for you. It promises love, endurance, persistence, and expectations.
Often I wonder,”How did it get so late so soon?”
Later promises our heart an expectation. However, we more often than not disappoint.
I understood it takes time rather, time to take it if it is meant to be. It takes time to forget, forgive, heal, improve.
That’s when I learnt it is never too late or too soon, it is when it is to be.
Life isn’t an hourglass(at least in this context). Just as knowledge has no bar age, no opportunity gets old(unless given by someone else).
Until then, Laters.
WARNING: THIS IS JUST AN ATTEMPT. DON’T EXPECT ANYTHING GREAT.
She believed it was a cruel world,
It spoke to her not a word.
She hated it.
Hatred was occupied by the forgotten memories.
Love by the ones she could make.
At least that’s what she thought.
She lived her life in sorrow and dismay.
Tried hard to pave a way.
Cleared up the stones.
Challenged the hurdles, every one.
Wanted to change.
Didn’t find it strange.
When the weeds grew back.
She just couldn’t crack.
The enigma of life.
Seemed as if she had a strife.
Not only with the ghosts from her past.
But also from the world, which was vast.
But never once did she give up.
Even when life became fucked up.
Even when she couldn’t get out of the maze.
Even when she was in a daze.
Even when she found herself in the darkness.
She reminded herself thar happiness could be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light.