Some background info: Noel Gallagher was a member of the band Oasis. Morrissey was the lead singer for The Smiths, and Heaven knows I'm miserable now is a song by them. Game of Thrones is a telly series. Marvel is, well, you already know this.
There’s a weight I feel on my shoulders. I don’t know what has brought this on, or if it has always been here, like an antique pot left silently in the corner. But with each passing moment this weight seems to be proliferating. Every moment spent, every breath inhaled, every flashback captured, seems hard on the legs, so much so that even time spent smiling seems wasted.
In moments of happiness it feels like something is constantly keeping a watch from over my shoulder. When I think of it, it feels as if this entity(or whatever it is) is keeping a tab on all the times I smile in a day’s worth. As if to tell me it has to be paid back in full. As if to tell me that I owe it a debt. Some debt.
Is happiness that expensive?
Nevertheless every time I smile, as if driven by an unconscious reflex, I check my surroundings from the corner of my eye. I think I have developed a fear of inadvertently belittling someone by being elated.
I keep delaying my tomorrows, the tomorrow I promise you everyday. Is it possible the peace I had been searching in living, I have found in being dead instead?
I have found a certain serenity in being sad, the kind of relief, that always keeps bringing me back. I have found a certain joy in being sad, the kind that keeps me looking forward to it.
I have grown fond of the moments when I lock my door, block out the world and just cry. I have grown fond of the moments when I no longer have to try.
It's no longer a battle, between me and melanchony. It's more like a relationship. I provide her with my presence, She lends me an ear to listen to my woes. She never leaves me, neither do I.
But you tell me everyday to join the living, abondon the dead. I tell you 'no' everytime. You ask me why And I reply with a smirk, 'I'll tell you tomorrow maybe."
I keep delaying my tomorrows, the tomorrow I promise you everyday. And soon you realize, the reason behind my smirk. 'The dead don't come back, only the living go away." #writersnetwork - Naina Kashyap
I have a story to tell, but I don't quite know how to say it. You get me or is this one of my failed attempts? I know how to begin this story and to end, I know quite well. But it's the part in between I'm afraid of, the part I don't want to re tell.
I shall tell you a story but somehow the blank page, feels more satisfying. It's like I have gotten used to the silence. It's like I no longer am bothered by pens with no ink. It's like words have ceased creating the heaven it used to.
Now, it feels like I must tell you a story, the one I promised to tell you all about. But I am running out of patience, to tell the same story all over again. The same story that so many have denied to be true. The same story that now feels like a lie to me too.
I would like to tell you a story, but not the one that breaks me every time I tell it. I will tell you a story, come tomorrow when I create one. #writersnetwork
I don't look at that calendar now. Swaying in the air of power, Making marks on that fragile shade of my room's wall. Grining wide with it's dying numbers.
The criss-cross maze of it's sharp lines, A web of my dying hopes. Net to my lavender butterflies. Choking me in overdoses. Raining weights to pile my heart. As I sink slow into despairs pulled by the mighty threads of time.
When each dawn, Crimson hues pour, I burn a butterfly in me. Spilling the walls of my soul,with it's ashes, Every dusk. While weeping on it's grave. With anxieties to hold the tears. And sleep to slay down.
A countdown of death, Ticking over me. Echoing it's monsterous bells. While, I write a deathnote, With incandescent inks of my blood. For the next butterfly,I have to crush.
In your name. In the name of going you. In the name of going us. In the name of will be gone us. And all the things I want to save. And will keep wanting.
Yes,I don't want to remember the dates and days now. The upcoming festivals and the passing by. The special dates and the ordinary. Let it pass,but dont tell me. Smash my eyelids,and the socket, but don't let me see. Make me numb of it. Of that Calendar,smirking in a wide grin. With it's deadly jaws of numbers.
So take it,hide it,shred it,or burn it. But I just don't wanna see it. Not anymore.Never anymore.