Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Of possession and fear...

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which you reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody
But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?” 
–Kahlil Gibran

One finds a strange comfort in the hollowness of beautiful words sometimes. Like gems that were waiting to be unearthed by you. Waiting to tell you what you want to listen to.
Those words are not just that. They are what I am. They are what I am fighting. They tell stories of the cold nights on the terrace. They tell stories of the sleepless darkness that I’m fighting. They are the stories of those words casually thrown around and that refuse to leave you alone.
The stories of the pain that comes with a harsh, cold night, when your eyes smart from the ice-cold wind and your fingers turn numb when you run them over the steel railings and you muffle a shiver as you place your bare foot on the granite slabs washed by the cruel, cold moonlight. And you know there’s so much to say and you know that much of it will remain unsaid, because you fear. You fear losing what you cherish and you fear having to face it and you fear that nothing will be the same and you fear that you will wake up to a reality much harsher than this. And you know that you’re fighting that war.
The stories of the turmoil when you know it’s the not the right thing. But you want it to BE. And you close your eyes and walk on pretending to know not where it’s all leading. And you fumble for your totem and hope the dream is your reality. And the war is still on.
And you know the answer to it all along. When it comes down to the battle, there’s only one way you win this one. The answer lies in fighting for oneself. Your needs are but your weaknesses. That person you seek is but your undoing. The answer lies in YOU.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Hiding somewhere in the night

I keep the ice-cold water running. It sends a chill down my spine, but weird how the painfully cold water, that almost stings me, is a rather welcome feeling. It makes me feel like I can wash away the last vestiges of a part of me I don’t want to keep with me.

The feeling of letting the cold water run over your tired eyes and throbbing head. I’m afraid to open my eyes. I’m afraid there’s too many things that are going to hit me at the same time, too many answers that I owe myself and to many others, too many issues I’d rather leave unattended.

There’s a part of me that wants to curl up in the bed after the shower and never wake up. And a part of me, that  wants to go out in the bright sun and let the warmth fill me, like everyday...

I look at my fingers turn white and wrinkly. They feel so weird, like they aren’t a part of me, like I can’t feel them anymore. Like memories long forgotten.

I feel the goosebumps and welcome that shiver. Is it time I woke up? Or am I still going to believe in the mantra of ‘Reality is overrated’? Sometimes, just sometimes, we know the answers all along. We just don’t want to accept them. We love the dream too much to let go of it.

So where does one draw the line? When is the right time? Which price is too high? The stakes only keep increasing...Is there an exit?

I don’t know. I probably never will. There’s no turning back, for now.

There’s only one thing I know when I come out of the shower. I need to change my shampoo.