Since everybody is into gratitude Nowadays. I wanna add something too.
Dear best friend.. I am grateful that I got to see you today. Well I know you're gonna crack up after the first line but hey... Now that I go to bed all tired , that video call was the best part of my day. I missed your laughter. (Yes this could be cheesy don't creep out.)
I missed how natural I am when I am with you. No pretense. How I missed listening to you rant about your life. And then rant out to you. And then bitch about some people. And then recommend books and songs and movies and animes. Share the silliest of things. Share everyday memories.
I have missed that. I have missed my best freind. And I'm glad I got to talk to you today. (Don't go on cloud 9 out of this. I know you're creeping out but I love you)
It's the evening. At the shore sometimes it is so busy, people, lights, waves, laughter , cars everything that it is so chaotic.
It is so chaotic that it makes me feel okay. And I refuse to move. I sit there. And I watch life around me. Why? Lack of company. Loneliness. You name it.
It has always been so hard for me to make friends. To understand people. Yet I have always found myself alone. Maybe it is coming true then , that after all it's a lonely road, just you and you.
I don't like it. I never liked that philosophy to be honest. It unsettled me. To be with myself alone. Because I have always had this need of company, of reassurance. Reassurance that I'm fine when I have somebody by my side.
Be it anyone. Someone to laugh with or to fight with or to just walk around the beach , dance , cry just anything.
Yet I find myself alone. Why? I sit here... And wait. Long hours. Till the chaat sellers wrap up their stalls and the traffic subsides. Moms take their toddlers home.
And I sit there. To witness all these movements. Because some nights I am so numb . But so desperate to feel. To cry. To write. And to laugh.
And I send my letters to the moon. I tell him. About myself. There is no one else. And I don't get any replies.
I still come to the shore every night. I like when the water touches my feet. I feel it.
And I walk. The sunset. The night. The moon.
Waiting for a reply . Silly me I say, as it rains on my cold cheeks. I will learn to love myself someday.
Peace and tranquility seem like a dream to me. So ironical though, as dreams are the reason for my misery. These dreams, they don't allow me to shut my eyes as they fear their existence would never become a reality. They fear they'll be another forgotten chapter. Hence, they pound on my imagination to carve their place.
I'm tired now! Tired of dreaming. Tired of telling myself that the silver lining is just around the corner. Tired of reminding myself that the gazebo of darkness will lead me to my home, to my sunshine. Tired of pacifying myself that this too shall pass. Tired of consoling myself, for this is just a phase.
My heart wants to take control but my head won't leave the throne. I guess I gave too much power to it as now it possesses more than me. Forcing me to relinquish control over my very own body.
As a kid, dreams fascinated me. For how our imagination could construct a world of itself. Where everything goes according to our desire. Nothing to worry about at all. And in this procedure of faking a world, I lost control on the real one.
I have no idea what I want anymore. Do I want to put a smile and believe everything will be fine, or do I want to stay betwixt the cobwebs of the dark attic where I'm a prisoner currently? For I've lost track of everything. Discombobulated to the core.
Consonance refers to the close repetition of identical consonant sounds before and after different vowels. This literary device is used as a means of enhancing the emphasis of words and creating both artistic and/or rhetorical effect in works of poetry, prose, or speech. For instance , slip - slop , black - block , flip - flop.
-- Today, write a short poem or quote using a consonance.--
Loving you is not expecting something from you; is simply waiting for you, silent, night and day.
Loving you is not demanding of you, it is not forcing you, It is not to pressure you, it is not to convince you, It is not defeating yourself; is to help you free yourself from yourself, of me, of everything, is to lend you my breath, to seduce you without desires, or objectives, is to enjoy yourself.
Loving you is not reject your flaws; is to make me sensitive to them and make you sensitive to them, never expecting you to change them.
Loving you is not take refuge in your person; is to build a shelter together, with our own hands, where the whole world can fit.
Loving you is not wishing be the center of your life; is to drive you, If you let me, if I can do it, to the life of your center, without seeking rewards.
Loving you is not giving up to my dreams for you; is waking up from my dreams, with you, taken from your hand.
Loving you is not flattering you is not puffed up, It is not weakening you is not to get your attention, it is not confusing you; is to show you worth of your shadow, the wonder of your own light, is to help you live alert, is wanting you to fly while I look at you, absorbed, happy.
Loving you is not fearing you is not owning you, it is not guarding you, It is not watching over you; is hugging you warmly, is to open my door for you, is to observe you in full light, in total darkness, with the soul's eyes.
Loving you is not just looking at you, smell you, or taste you; is looking with you at the same time anything, make me one with your smell, be part of you.
Loving you is not tell you that I love you, It's not to think that I loved you that I will love you; is asking myself Yes I love you, is to feel it, leaving let it develop in me, without any need to tell you.
Loving you is not always be by your side, It is not always thinking of you It is not always dreaming of you; is to be available to you, is to be you, to become one with you, is to be aware of your dreams, and of mine with you, is to allow know me completely to the very center of my pain, and of my love.
Loving you is not look at you from above, or from below, from behind, from the front; is to cultivate a balance that again and again feel what happens for our common center.
Loving you is not projecting ideas about you is not idealizing yourself; is to see you from afar, from close, from within (from you), from outside, see you from beyond me.
Loving you is not loving you only when you love me, when you're pretty when you smile at yourself, when you kiss me, when you caress me, when you walk gracefully, when you are calm, when you are happy; is to accept you whole As you are, always and everywhere, with simplicity, gladly.
Loving you is not writing you my love poems; is to be love when I write to you, and when not.
Loving you is not writing that I love you; is to share with you the best of me (love), no return, without horizon...
If flowers could speak, I think they'd tell us to stop plucking their wings in the name of love, to stop pressing them between verses and poetries only to be withered away, like another sad story; they'd tell us to start watering roots instead of just what appears to be, to start appreciating things before they wilt away; to breathe freely, take in the fragrance of life and let them too.
If the sky could speak, I think it'd tell us to stop looking wistfully at colours of dusk, as the sun dips in crimson- a token of passion and not sin; it'd tell us to keep running behind things that make us happy but at the same time stop wishing, on things that keep falling, on ones that are not meant to be ours; to let ourselves dream, to begin again with a new dawn, a beautiful one.