Threads of Gossamer

Elusive. That would be the most appropriate word to describe the presence of patience in my life at this point of time. I feel like I'm drowning. No water, just air. The very oxygen that allows me to breathe is slowly suffocating me and turning my lungs leaden. I just want to scream. To scream and scream until I get hoarse; to scream until I can never scream again. The madness is everywhere. In the trees, whispered in the wind, in the words spoken and left unsaid, in the glances exchanged by the strangers and the passersby, in the cars that speed past in all their polished glory, chasing after each other in a single-minded intent. And all I can think about is you.

She Calls Me Inde

I've been very aptly nicknamed by a fellow friend. Inde is short for in denial, just so you'd know. I shall have to remind myself to thank and praise her for her unsurpassed wisdom in nicknaming. Oh well, maybe I shouldn't tire myself unnecessarily since she'll be reading this post anyway. In any case, thank you. You know who you are.
 Moving on.
Allow me to let you in on a little secret, I AM the ultimate embodiment of denialism when it comes to You-Know-Who (and hell no, it's not Voldemort! Do you think I'm some kind of freak or something, rambling about some fictional character? The dude doesn't even have a nose, for crying out loud!) I expect better of myself, but I never seem to get off my ass and do something to change it. Since you're being a royal pain in the butt, I have come to a swift and decisive (yeah right, the moment you say hi, I go weak in the knees and take you in again) decision that if someone comes knocking, the door shall be opened a sliver for that said person so that we have a chance at getting acquainted with one another. It's a fair trade, if you ask me. Given the current predicament that you've set us both in, being a million different people from one day to the next, I deserve being normal.
You see, the thing is, you treat me like a puppy. You leave me out in the yard to play by myself, assuming that I'm self-sufficient and content with what sparse tools you've inadequately equipped me with. All the while you'll be cooped up inside the house while the puppy looks after itself. Even on a rainy day you just leave the puppy to its own defences, not bothering the slightest bit if the puppy is doing okay. But when you somehow miraculously feel like it, you come out from the confines of your ridiculously oversized house and decide to play with the puppy. And all you end up doing is patting the poor little thing's head and filling it with unbridled hope. Then you just turn around and walk right back through your front door. See what a jackass you are? But just that pat on the head makes the puppy's day. Although you may not want to play with the puppy all the time, you keep it around, so that it's there whenever you feel like playing with it. The puppy is yours, solely yours and never anyone elses for the taking. You never really treat the puppy right, you just want it to be there, to stroke your ego. The puppy is obedient. It never leaves.

But what happens when the puppy decides to bite back?

Seven Colours of the Rainbow

14 days. 14 days. In the span of 14 days, I've gone from feeling ecstatic and enthusiastic about being alive to downright lost and depressed. The answer to the question of the ages has finally been answered. Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I feel. But the real thanks goes to The Architect. Without Him, nothing would have been made possible. Thank You for putting everything into motion.
My mind is in a million different places, fragmented and scattered in the wind. Feeling helpless and a little lost, just groping for the right words. I can't even express myself properly. That's how messed up I am. I know that I'll get through this but getting through is hard to do.
I didn't even know the man behind the icon but I feel the loss all the same. Just a name and a stolen glimpse. That was all it took to unlock the floodgate of tears. I break easy nowadays. I miss being normal; hard and emotionless, not caring about a damned thing. I didn't hurt as easy then. Meeting you was the pivotal turning point. Idiot.
Having the blanks finally filled with the answers I've been dying to hear since forever filled me with raw joy. Pure and wild. And I only get that rush when it concerns anything you-related. Feels oh-so-good, by the way.
Stay. Such a small meaningless word before but now means the world to me. Stay. I like how it rolls off my tongue, its taste in my mouth. Your fear is the one thing I intend to capitalise on. I hope you don't mind. But how is that you hold it together so well when we share so many things in common? I hate your poker face but I love your eyes. They suck at lying.
I'm truly baffled by the rate happiness seems to evaporate around me. Especially when those happy moments revolve around you. No, I'm dead serious. Its like I'm being sabotaged left, right and center. One moment I'm making a pitstop at cloud nine, in the next I'm teleported back to reality. Son of a bitch. And then sadness envelopes me in its clutches and holds me fast, before I can even finish spelling the word happy. I've been meaning to come online and post something as soon as possible but lo and behold, my laptop crashed and my life came to an absolute standstill until I heard the news. That news. I'm so sorry. So very sorry.
It was like the world crashed around me for the second time. No wonder I felt oddly neutral the whole day. It was like you just went off the radar, no signals. I remember not having any Facebook urges that day. So out of place. I should have seen it coming, but that's not the way is was supposed to play out, I guess. One last check on my BB before I hit the sack, I remember thinking. How wrong that turned out to be. And so the start of a tear-filled week began.
See? I told you. Barely a second into celebration mode and the carpet is yanked from beneath my feet. Bloody hell. How do I keep this up? I'm here. Always. Always. Which part of that do you have difficulty understanding? I don't expect anything, but I don't want to be shut out either. A thank you wouldn't hurt, you know. That's just common manners. Really now.
So I went from being red and angry at you for being a total douchebag, to being happy and carefree like the colours orange (apparently orange symbolizes lack of commitment, and what do you know, it's your favourite colour! Go figure -.-") and yellow, to being green with envy when I'm not the one you say hi to, to feeling blue about the things I do and don't have control over, to being highly intuitive about our little 'connection' in a shade of indigo, to going violet and letting things be.
But most of all, just like the colour of our cars, I feel like a non-colour, black.

When All Else Fails

Just in case.

Marathon Madness

I'm numb. Senseless. Unfeeling. Empty. Floating. Defying gravity. Aimless. Painless. Broken. Down. Frustrated. Dissapointed. Drowning. Suffocating. Choking. Bleeding. Defenseless. Thinking. Breathing. Dumb.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
I'm okay.
Bullshit.
No, seriously. I am. But there's a soft nagging at the back of my head. Like a potion bubbling innocently, waiting forever to reach boiling point. And blow it will.
I just want to run and run and run. Forever. No stopping. Going on and on until everything just goes away. The hurt, the hope, the waiting, the memories, the everything.
That's all I want. To leave it all behind. I don't want it to resurface again. A never-ending cycle. Like clockwork.
Anything to do to just feel better.
It's the supeficial things that matter now. One day at a time. But that dull throbbing is a silent killer.
I should be strong.
But all Iwant to do is run.

Icebox

Don't. Just don't.