Miss me? Not really.

Miss me? Not really is the short answer. For the long answer read below.

I do but I don’t want to deal with all the things that follow in your wake. It’s a chore and like blizzards always intense. Why is it never sunny? It was a deadly winter and I need to survive.

Why so many lies or omissions of truth, in your words? Why promises that you won’t keep and had never intended to keep in the first place, made only for the sake of making yourself look good?

I catch myself thinking you would like Inspector Montalbano or tell you that I found peace in volunteering. I wanted to tell you my grandpa was dying. I wanted to ask you what the right thing to do was. But I could never get past how formal and cold we had become. And you had never shown any interest before in spite of knowing the circumstances. So I absolve myself from all guilt.

Was this only entertainment for you? What was it – the thrill of the chase? How cliched and, you know how I hate cliches. All of us become the things we hate.

It doesn’t matter now because I have seen through you. Perhaps there is a price you pay for being naive stupid. Believing you was my Achilles heel. The amazing thing is the disbelief because I am not usually the kind of person who gets caught up in this kind of drama. You proved me wrong yet again and my only consolation is for everything in life there is a first time (and hopefully a last time).

Why is there never a straight answer but only roundabout clues? It’s a maze I am tired of navigating and red herrings I am tired of dodging. You probably think people have a lot of time on their hands to brood over things. Let me correct you. They don’t. Survial takes precedence. Wading through your mess without complaining, I laugh to myself thinking about it now. Didn’t anyone tell you I don’t even like getting my feet wet and here I am drowning. I don’t even know how I got here. Oh wait you knew I disliked it yet continued to pour water saying it will quench my thirst.

What’s the use of saying pretty please, listen to me? What will I do with it, you selfish pig? Once someone tells you truth, instead of acknowledging it, you wave it aside and walk away only to come back to stomp on their hearts. I wish you would vanish into the unknown never to be seen. Wait, that’s not completely true. In the day of social media I check if you are alive by stalking you online like normal people. Not like you, making your presence known whenever you happen to drop by.

Continue reading “Miss me? Not really.”

(Not) In Judgement

A judgmental person is shown the mirror.


Judging people sitting from a high throne
Who are you?
Have you never made a mistake?
If not how are you human?
Which planet have you come from?
Go back! 
There is no place
 for people like you here.
Sitting in judgment on friends
for what they choose to share.
They consider you an insider,
the story of their lives is precious.
Is it to be listened to with full concentration
or with half a mind sitting in judgment?
They talk of experiences you will never have.
Of the people you will never meet.
Of the places you will never go.
They give you a window into a new world.
Sharing their highs and lows,
moments of ecstasy,
pain and confusion.
For what?
Not to be judged, surely.
So that you may live,
more than one life.
Sitting in judgment on family.
For the things they do.
For the things they do not do.
For the people they are (or appear to be).
For the people they are not.
What will please you, pray tell?
If the world is run to your diktats and fancies,
my way or the highway style?
Sitting in judgment on strangers.
People you come across in everyday life.
The fleeting connections
which touch us or pass us by.
Subjecting them to your petty judgment
without even knowing them.
Do you know yourself?
Set aside all judgment.
Look at yourself.
How you really are.
Not what you want to be.
Not what you appear to be.
Just as you are.
It would make a world of difference
to you.