of nightmares and you.

"aur kya ehd-e-wafa hote hain,
log milte hain, juda hote hain"

I hate you. You no longer exist in my world.

Why do you torment me so then?

It is past midnight, and I toss and I turn, and I cannot sleep, because the mind decided to go to that dark corner - the abyss of the sub conscious that I have thrown you into.

I was dreaming, I didn't know better, than to venture out there. the abyss where all unwanted, unpleasant and hateful things are thrown away.

The mind must stay in the palace built in it. The memory palace. The palace whose passageways are lined with memories I want. The memories that I have distorted enough to feel good.

In the abyss lies the truth, in the abyss lies all my emotion. my pent up fury, my anger and my hate. My disgust, and my love too. I keep telling my dream-me not to venture in there, for the nightmares that emerge from there are far too scary, they keep you up at night, they destroy your days and kill your nights.

Despite all those warnings, like Hansel and Gretel in the candy house, I venture in there, and see you staring back at me.

I wake up gasping for air, the tumor within makes it difficult to breathe, I gasp and I rasp and I choke and I gag, reaching out for my water bottle, but suddenly, I find myself in that despicable city, in your despicable room, and my fingers touch your skin instead of the plastic bottle, my hand grazes over your pimpled semi bearded face, and I recoil, I hate that touch. I hate the familiar feeling that rises in the pit of my stomach, I hate you, I hate your name, I hate anything that has to do with you.

I kick and scream, and try and run, but I am rooted to my place. I realize I am still dreaming, and thankfully, this time, when I eyes open, I am no where near that goddamn hell in which I willingly walked into.

If I could, I would take a huge enough eraser and just erase you out of existence. I have thrown you into the abyss along with the dirty lecherous tailor whose touch cost me my innocence of childhood - you both belong together.

Why did you decide to crawl out of that abyss and into my dreams? I back away from you, but you keep advancing, I hate you. I am stuck again in those couple of days, those meaningless words, those hurtful looks and I hate you. Just go back. just crawl back to wherever I had thrown you.

Stop making me wake up at midnight, scared to go back to sleep, stop making me feel dirty and disgusted about my judgment, my body. Just Go Away! you know I hate you.

I just wish I could stop hating you. I wish I could stop loving you. I wish I could just erase you away. What a stupid judge of character am I. Why could I not see through all your lies and deceit? why did you deceive me? How much fun did you really have at my expense? Was I fun enough? Was I experience enough? Do you still slap your thigh and laugh about my naïve innocence and love to your friends? Do you still guffaw at what a pitiful fool you made me out to be? Does your family use me as a tea time story of how many conquests their darling son has made?

If I just knew why.
The pain wouldn't lessen though. the nightmares wouldn't stop. would they?

I hate you. Now, if only I could ask my stupid heart to stop loving you.

random lines.

A ragpicker that I am ,
Riches avoid me.
A heretic that I am ,
My Lord deserts me.
I lay down on the floor of my wretched home
Waiting for death to visit

Maybe

She had everything, and yet nothing.

"Yun to koi gila nahin. sab kuch tha, kya na tha
phir bhi jo ek kami si thi, uska pata na tha"

Feeling lost. unloved. unwanted. feeling dead, while breathing.

I need a hug. a big large loud hug. I need someone to tell me that they care because no matter how many times I tell this to myself, it sounds hollow and false.

I need someone to believe in me, tell me that they know that I am perfect, and tell it to me like they are sure of the morning, day and night, despite me being imperfect.

I need someone to help me find a reason to live. All I do now is, breathe.

And breathing, is suffocating. It feels like Im gasping, gasping and gasping for air, to survive, to ... to to live and all I can do is, gasp.

Why is it, that I am back to venting on a blog ... on just words and letters when I supposedly have SO many people around me?

Dammit. I hate you, you stupid stupid world.

Where's my Antartica?

Trapped

If she had felt trapped before, that feeling was nothing compared to this. This feeling was not emotional. It was as though she was having a physical reaction. This feeling, it caught in her throat, choking out the words, wrapping its fingers around her lungs, cold and clammy, she could hardly breathe.

It was as though she was dying, the hole in her stomach kept growing each day, the future, the uncertainty, the anger, the dissappointment, and more than all that - the entrapment.

She was trapped in her body, she was trapped by her fate, and she, was trapped, by her own progeny.

the shackles so bound, that the only way to freedom was no way at all.

the writer

I truly, totally want to write. I look at my old blogs, and blog posts, I look at that Rs.2500/- cheque that is past expiry date for my short story, and long to write.

It is just so simply sad that all I write now, are either emails, excel sheets or pitful "Im such a loser posts".

Life, has just become so cluttered now. too many relationships, commitments and responsibilities come in way of me.

I think of that long lost novel that I began, and I can envision what I had written... that fictional village beckons me, my lovely protagonist still is where I have asked her to stay. The story just doesn't move further, everything is like a painting in my minds eye.

My heart asks me what happens of them, of the heroine, her mother, the numerous men in that story - what happens at the cemetery, whos epitaph is she reading,  and I do not know. I just do not know. the papers on which it was written is long gone, lost. I cannot restart, the words wont be what they were then. anything I try to do will only deface the painting in the minds eye.

Sigh.

I just want to write. When will I get to write?
 

ennui

would someone object if I left a suicide note that read

"died due to ennui and boredom"

or should I make it sound that I killed myself, not over a matter of not being able to keep busy, but because I underwent some great emotional and personal trauma? Should I invent the burden of an invalid sibling, an addiction riddled parent, a blind in law to be taken care of, and the event of a dead spouse too?

Would that validate suicide .. compared to my contention of ennui?
~~~~~~

There was once a girl whom everyone wanted to be with. she was funny. she was smart. she was not beautiful, but she had the wit that everyone longed to possess, she was groomed, she gleaned with polished funny-ness.

she went home everyday, and removed the cloak of being funny. underneath, there was a very bored cynical old crone that hid.

Who would you rather be with?

Dont bother answering.

Dear Diary

Excerpts from notes and To-Dos of a worldly wise Jackie.

- get a life

- exercise

- find someone who loves you.

loves you the way all the sappy emotional movie stars love their heroines to the ends of the world and to the ends of their lives.

Find a man who can be your sameer, kundan, vanraj all rolled into one.

*sigh*

- stop dreaming.

- get a life.