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.”

Tagore’s The Post Office and the living

I lay on the bed
for the better part of the day 
looking listlessly  out of the window
the wire mesh blocking the view
partitioning the sky into small squares.
Sleep eluded me
pain overpowered me
I longed to die.
I felt my heart thudding
hanging on to dear life.
Death laughing sardonically
watching with cold glee
whispering in a thin voice

your time is yet to come.

Continue reading “Tagore’s The Post Office and the living”

Not a damsel in distress

A snake is standing guard at the entrance ready to swallow me. If due to the fear I don’t walk on the path that leads to my destiny and allow the crippling fear to rule over me so that I am rooted to the spot, where does that leave me? The imaginary hisses in my ear bothering me so that I can’t get out of bed, fearing that under it a great big snake is waiting to snap at my ankles and that will be the end of me. 
 
Time to put my feet down on solid ground, snake or no snake, and take a step towards reclaiming my life.There will be no knight in shining armour. There is no wizard with a wand. That’s fine as I’m not  a damsel in distress anyone else can rescue. It’s only me and my wits. Bodily strength has deserted me but  still enough remains to help carry myself to the other side. Shield the feet with slippers. Pack a knapsack with essentials and start walking. It all starts with a decision to get out of the bed.
Wish you would budge Mr Snake,  and give me enough space to pass. I want to go in the direction of the road you are blocking.

Why, my little lass, you are asking for permission. My dear, if only you would have demanded, I would have let you go because that meant you had been brave enough to say what you wanted and meant it. But you are unsure my dear, hence the request. Unsure about the path you want to take. Unsure about a mere decision. Go back and ruminate on it. Come back when you are ready to fight and standby your decision. Shoo. Go.

You will find me standing guard, waiting…