Sunday, November 15

How The Desire For Something Better Has Wrecked Our Lives

Our generation has a tendency to never be content with what we already have, thus aiming to conquest more; something, anything. Obese people are being sold to miracle slimming pills promising a beach ready thigh gap. Skinny people want the curves. Women want bigger tits. Big tits want better push up bras. Lean women want a big butt. Fuck this, now everyone wants a big butt. Long hair wants to get cut short. Short hair wants a magic potion for the hair. Let's spend thousands of dollars to end up broke or spend thousands more for that perfect instagram picture because babe, my daddy is earning the shyt. I'm no where close to saying that you aren't allowed to choose how you decide to spend the money you have. It's the desire to be better that keeps the cash inflow intact. Everything can be summed up into a better version of what you already have; a better dress, better car, better phone, better face and eventually a better love. People believe there's always someone better, someone more compatible, someone sexier for them out there. This is why we refuse to settle down. We look for options because we have a continuous fear of losing out on something we don't have. In the process of reaching out for the stars, we've missed our diamonds. But we are all egostic little freaks yearning to satisfy our existence with a false assurance that we won't miss out on anything in life. In all honesty, is that even possible? We'd be foolish if we desired to rise up to a warm sun on a winter morning, take a walk in the rain after lunch and sleep to a cool summer night by the beach at once. I was one of those people; people who'd have an inevitable fear of losing out on something they haven't even lived. I'd think about all the people I could have fallen in love with, had I not spent an entire year being consumed by love that didn't even last. If I settle down with this one man, would I be able to kiss the other men that I once fell in love with, and still am ,with the same intensity or would I even see them again? Maybe I should have never spent the evening with him and instead partied at the hip night club the other night. I could have met interesting people with great stories to tell. What if the person who would have been an integral part of my life was right there but I was busy talking to someone else? Maybe we'd be in love by now. Maybe this love was the one. You see how crazy that sounds? The fear of missing out is engraved in our sub conscious because we we're afraid to make a choice. There will always be options; always be another road to home but the choice is yours: the choice of living one moment with all intensity or living it all with mediocrity. 

Friday, October 23

Don't Kiss Someone With Music In The Background

I've read that one shouldn't kiss someone with music in the background, because one day you'll sway in a different arm in a new coffee shop and that song will come on. The taste of salty caramel frappé will start to taste like them and as much as you hate to admit, the smell of new cologne in your shirt every morning wouldn't please you any more.
The other day when you're in the car driving home, after seventeen long hours of work, tuning the radio, that song will come on. The miles would become longer and even the exuberant sunset wouldn't be engaging any more. Suddenly the glee and glam, the spirit and spur of the moment will transform into a pensive polaroid.
When you're in the bed reaching the climax of  your current favourite book and it's only a few pages away, that song will come on. Every bar between reality and fiction will be blurred and all you'd want to read any more would be the wrinkles on their forehead when they tried to find you in the art gallery where you met for the first time. 

Monday, October 19

I Was Just Infatuated

I never was a poet. I was just infatuated with one. The one that knew how to say, 'You look beautiful' without moving his lips. Every time we kissed, he took the best parts of me with him. I did what I always do. Let him have me wholly, consume me wholly and then runaway consuming all of him that he could ever give to anybody. I let him spoil me with his recurrent presence that eventually lead to significant with drawl. I fall short of vocabulary to summarize every time we made love; how I smothered him on my lips, let him slip himself a little deeper each time and how everything around us would explode into a constellation of phosphenes. He'd gaze into the mirror with me and leave me with a incessant smile; one that made me feel invincible. His husky demeanour was captivating and eventually intimidating. He could make me do anything, I could do everything. I wanted to do him again and again. It all started from the public toilet of the down town pub where I bumped into him for the first time. Damn, it felt so wrong, it felt so right. We moved to my bedroom, the kitchen, the balcony, someone else's balcony, the parties I never liked, the theatre and everywhere else. I lured him to come along everywhere. He was with me in my prom; he was there when I graduated. He was either in me or on my mind.

Saturday, August 15

The Sciene Of Freefalling

You know that place between your dreams and sleep, I love that part; where you're trying to get away from something so real in your sub conscious world, yet still trying to hold on for some more minutes because coming back would mean giving up on a certain actuality. The feeling of the two extremes gives me immense satisfaction of feeling everything at once in my head and nothing at all when I retreat to the conscious space.

Sunday, June 21

Scream To Him Your Love Song Anyway


Hey you, yes you, get up and dial his number. Don't wait for him to call you because it isn't about who called first or who did not. Love isn't about a missed call thinking 'shit he didn't answer my call, he doesn't believe I deserve his attention after all.' or mind games on  how 'I must wait for him to call because last time I did and he might think I'm desperate.' Stop waiting for magic to happen, stop waiting for serendipity, stop waiting for the signs because it isn't a thriller movie reaching climax and a bet is on who the killer is. It's you slowly poisoning a could have been romance based out of unnecessary procrastination. The worst that could happen is them not feeling the same and it will the beginning of a new story, some place else with someone new. The previous prolonged investment of time leading to an equivalent ending to a could have been story is like rewriting your favourite novel with the idea of a character that you like but will eventually ruin the book for you and you do not want that for fuck sake. There have been people who drove to my building at four in the morning, waited for me until I got down, just to see me, because they needed to end their eventful day with the feeling of me in their head or my taste on their lips or just the picture of me in my silly pajamas. There were also some of these lovers who would call me up randomly to tell me how amazing and beautiful I was, because they might not be able to say or feel the same again later and they would still want to be ridiculously vulnerable, even though my response would be relatively cold to that. Trust me, some of the days I really needed to hear that anyway. There will be days you wouldn't be able to drive 500 miles, no, not at four and not even at seven in the evening or whisper all of your crazy stupid love through the phone. Maybe it just isn't your way of loving, maybe you like the feeling more than the way of communicating but let your love be be unguarded; let it be vulnerable. There will be moments when you wouldn't have an ipod playing the background score in the car while you're driving back from work or no spark to kindle your fire. Call him up and scream to him your love song anyway. 

Monday, June 8

How To Be A Great Lover

Memorize the birth marks 
around her neck 
that tempt you leave hickeys 
while you can't keep your fingers 
off her dewy skin. 

Trace the sleep lines
on her back
that lead you back to the bed you shared, 
where her skin was pressed 
onto the white linen 
you enveloped yourself in 
with her smell still in it.

Monday, March 2

Everyone Wants A Happy Ending

It's ten past five. I'm in the shower letting my body indulge in a hot bath after a very long day, when the alarm on my cellphone goes off. I know it's time but I am not ready, just not ready yet to let go of the warm water dripping on my skin. I try to close my eyes to the sound of my steamy bath room and all I could do is visualize the message on my lock screen.

5:10 p.m.
"Medicines"
Cancel Snooze

I blink and try to change the direction of my thoughts drifting every few seconds from gay to glum and from morose to repentant. My heart was never a frail machine, my head was the culprit wavering on the brink of nervous emotions. It swayed from love songs in 1975 to a timeless death in 1963. The thoughts of all the warm embraces bought me smiles and I cooed for all my footsteps that were walking away from everyone who found me. There was once a little girl that lost her identity and picked up all junk on the way moulding it into an all new version of herself. She wrote about the dragons and painted them black. The knights in shining armour never caught her attention for she was a warrior. She was her own hero.

Monday, February 23

Thinking Out Loud

Stop. Leave your fears with me for they are beautiful. Leave your nightmares. Leave the things you've never told anyone and leave behind everything that hurts. I will take you to the library and have silent conversations with you. You'll refuse to look at me and I'll listen to what that would have to say. I'll leave painful coffee mug outlines in the journal you'be been hiding away and aimlessly draw pretty things around them. Then I will carefully break the bridges we left hanging midway and make a house out of the bricks. So, hey when you're tired of running, leave behind the masks and leave behind your ego. I'll save them in a silver lunch box and cook you some breakfast instead. When you open the box at lunch, you'll see that you aren't crazy. You are just a little weird and I'm quite a sucker for that. I wrote this for you. You know who you are.

Monday, February 16

Date a girl that reads

Date a girl that reads. She likes her coffee strong and her nights late. Find her sniffing books randomly. Find her when you see her carrying an unread book in her bag all the time. She'll envelope you in her web of stories you wish you hadn't written and you never imagined to be a part of . She will take you to the museums, beaches and parking lots and elaborate every little detail of the frame that you start liking photographs. Every word she says will be a form of poetry you wish you could turn into still images. She would then make you want to hold hands which seemed so extravagant and unlikely amateur before. You'd want to revisit the same places she took you to already, because each time it would be quite a different kind of beautiful. She'd send you pretty little love notes with her lipstick marks on it.  She'll fill your playlist with soundtracks of movies that you never realized you'd like before. The way she looks at you would make you want to write songs or even more sing them to her. She'll always admire your voice. She will take you to watch sunsets and you will admire them as much as you are awed by her sincerity to the moment. She'll make you happy about nothing and everything at the same time; it almost sounds like infinity. Find someone who reads Murakami. Talk to her about your favourite. Tell her why. She'll listen. She'll listen to you extremely carefully. Hurt her once, because hearts can heal. Don't hurt her twice. Don't be with her if monotony is all you can give. If you want something quite like this and quite beyond it, date a girl that reads. You deserve her. She is the one that changes your life. Or, just date a girl who writes.

Wednesday, January 28

Houses out of humans.

I was always drawn towards the impossible: The idea of love in a hopeless place, morality in sensuality, materialism of emotional stability, sense of belonging in a wrecked house made out of a human; it was always extreme. I refused to settle for mediocrity. I romantisized love affairs that would set the bed up in flames and killed every inch of me that was humane. Even the slightest thought of a mundane existence stirred me up like a tornado. Destruction could never co exist with survival and my way of living was everything but nonchalant. My only evolution was a stronger back quite used to carry a huge sack of non existent love affairs with people I haven't met yet of course and patience that lasted longer than the nights with the men I could never fall in love with. It is one hell of a task to be your true self. It's so much easier to be someone else or no one at all. Sometimes when I'd have choices, I'd withdraw into my own nothingness or curl in my couch of stardom. I was one of those fools that craved for a love they didn't deserve and dodged away what could have been real. I wasn't steering anything, not even myself. The people I loved weren't the prison. I was.

Wednesday, January 14

Statistics Of Wasting Forevers


Time: Three past midnight.
Listening to: Piano Cover of Skinny Love
Mood: Whatever

Don't you wish you could pause time for like as long as it needs to pull your shit back together and then start from where you left off and nothing would ever really change, but you. Don't you wish you could rewind time and change something about a little thing and circumstances would be so much more different than how it is now and no one would ever find out. 

Everything is so temporary yet we let our miseries stick to us for the longest of times. Be it the loss of a loved one, somebody leaving or even letting someone stay longer than they deserve; everything is so momentary. This moment is not forever, yet we cling on to false hopes with both hands believing it is all we have. We move out of our comfort zones and exist on compromises, I mean we do what the hell ever is required to make it work. Sorry to burst your bubble but that's not all you have, this moment is all you have and it is slipping away, one second at a time. This idea of forever is holding you back. Letting go is sometimes the best idea to make a good feeling convert into a happy memory and not decay like corpses, somewhere in a dump of your bad memories. Everything is momentary. Everything is temporary. Do what you want to, but first let it go. You're just wasting your precious infinite forevers in the hope of creating one you've not even known of yet.

Sunday, January 11

Not The Fault In Our Stars: Part 1

We don’t commit anymore.

The problem with our generation is that we don’t fall into categories. No, I’m not talking about tags on people. We are a kind of advanced species that doesn’t know what makes or breaks them. We’re moving backwards. We’re falling back into the cave man era. We are the people who choose to exist in between, not because we want to balance our lives, but because we don’t know what we want anymore. So, there are times we tilt to the glorious side, but we don’t like it there so we flip to the negligence. This cycle continues and we find our lives chained in a series of oscillations. The oscillations are quite frequent and unpredictable. This also makes us inconsistent.