As Long As I'm Here
I put my spectacles down. I close the door behind me. I return here and go back, open the door and shut the window. I close the door once again. I return to this place. I have a square shaped empty white space in front of my eyes and a keyboard beneath the fingers of my hands that have been struggling lately to be stable. What I have in front of me is empty. And I understand it's meant to be anything but empty. It deserves to be filled. Filled with words like wine in a glass.
Molecules inside me keep on triggering tears but while in the process of playing hard to come out of my body, they become words. They struggle to get out. But it is this soul's fault that's afraid to open a door for them. It is this concern that the pathways on the other side of the door are made of cement and such rigid atoms and those that struggle won't last the way they are. They're made of thin laces and they bath in naivety.
I have been fighting with urges. I have been fighting with the thought if I should surrender myself to words just the way I used to and allow the tears to become words over again. Tears, both of happiness and sorrow. I do not find it strange that I've forgotten ways to communicate with people. I am sure they are furious. It's like the feeling of dead words when I speak lately. The spaces and pauses in between the words have become too long and lengthy. Lips not in the lively movements and eyes not being themselves.
It is an irony that they like you only when you're joyful. Not when you're a human being and in pain.
Poor you, poor you, this too shall pass.
Molecules inside me keep on triggering tears but while in the process of playing hard to come out of my body, they become words. They struggle to get out. But it is this soul's fault that's afraid to open a door for them. It is this concern that the pathways on the other side of the door are made of cement and such rigid atoms and those that struggle won't last the way they are. They're made of thin laces and they bath in naivety.
I have been fighting with urges. I have been fighting with the thought if I should surrender myself to words just the way I used to and allow the tears to become words over again. Tears, both of happiness and sorrow. I do not find it strange that I've forgotten ways to communicate with people. I am sure they are furious. It's like the feeling of dead words when I speak lately. The spaces and pauses in between the words have become too long and lengthy. Lips not in the lively movements and eyes not being themselves.
It is an irony that they like you only when you're joyful. Not when you're a human being and in pain.
Poor you, poor you, this too shall pass.
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Why such a sad post? IS everything cool?
ReplyDeleteEvery pain passes out ... just relax and things will get fine :-)
ReplyDeleteYes dear, This too shall pass. Keep on writing. Words are the best form of therapy..
ReplyDelete+Not Just My Allegories+
So accurate- It is an irony that they like you only when you're joyful.
ReplyDeletethey say words written has more sense than words spoken. keep writing <3
ReplyDeletesmiles....the only way out is to write your way out...until the words just come...and i figure i got to get them out before they consume me you know...
ReplyDeleteMa'am, Not "knowing" you, I yet guess that I have stumbled upon the blog of a fine writer, thoughtful, precise, and erudite. I also have yet inside me a thousand stories straining to break loose. There is a four-letter word which applies here: DO IT, aka "doit"...(sigh...if only!).
ReplyDeleteBrian (comment above) is my most favorite writer. And his advice to "write your way out..." is the best.
I appreciate that you visitied my blog, and assure you, I'll be Bach (punchline of a musical joke!)
One more thing: Ironically, some Peeps do not like me...because I am nearly always in "happy" mode, and at PEACE most of the time...just living and loving that life. Funny that you mentioned the "poor me, poor me" irony--grin!
Bye.
Take care, fragile heart, beautiful soul.
ReplyDeleteThe beginning line of your post reminds me of a speech I read, delivered by Orhan Pamuk when he received the Nobel prize.
ReplyDeleteHe said that a writer is someone who shuts himself up in a room and turns inwards to build a new world with words.
You seem like that kind of a writer too. Brilliant!!
Thanks for visiting my blog!
+To Me It Matters+
Happens ,
ReplyDeletehappens at times
but i am sure time will come for us
To get healed and brim :)
Those are not real friends. I can't stand people that just don't understand.
ReplyDelete/Avy
http://mymotherfuckedmickjagger.blogspot.com
♥
hope everthing's good ♥
ReplyDeleteI do I do,
ReplyDeleteWhy not share what caused this pain? That will ease the burden on your mind and let words have free flow again.
Take care
Thank you darling. And your words are wonderful, as always!
ReplyDeleteXx
/S / http:// mydarlingsolitude.blogspot.com
♥
Very nice description of varying conflicts within. And there are few sights more terrifying than the dull overbearing gaze of a blank page!
ReplyDeleteCan relate to it, this is what off-late even I have been going through. Calm down. Let all your flustered thoughts settle down. Those alluding words will come to you by them-self.
ReplyDeleteso true that they like you when you are joufull..
ReplyDeleteTouching post...Can relate to it...Can see those feelings reflected on your words..
ReplyDeleteYour writing is so beautiful and your words so perfect!
ReplyDeleteAlways a pleasure to read.
I lost your Blog's URL and happened upon it just now, it's wonderful to be able to read you again.
the last line has it... this too shall pass away...
ReplyDeletethose that share the tears are the ones to stick to, the ones who stand by us when going gets tough will come a long way with us.
being human doesnt mean not in pain i guess
niways
Happy Diwali :)