I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met.
The skies caving in...
Oceans draining into a sinkhole...
Birds forgetting their tunes...
People acquiring common sense!
Cooler summers in the city...
Decent coffee from the vending machine.
Unprecedented changes on a global level that aliens would one day reminisce about over marshmallows in a celestial party by the beach somewhere on Venus.
I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist if we hadn't met.
I have to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist if we hadn't met.
You don't understand why, because you see, if that were true, then it would mean that everyone else's world is falling apart too and I am not the only one holding pieces that don't make sense anymore. My sky would've been everyone's sky and my oceans wouldn't be the only ones draining into a sinkhole. It would've been easier to explain why the birds in my world don't seem to sing anymore, no more than I do. It would've been easier to bear, to empathize, because then, everyone else would be suffering too and I'd have hidden my anguish amidst the general chaos.
But now, now I've got to find ingenious places to hide my pain. I tuck some in the memories of the laughter we shared. I push some behind the stories we told each other. I place only a tiny bit under the stolen glances; I don't wish to ruin their silent meanings. I throw a fistful in the air, at the moon that played mute audience to the script of our parting; The invisible weight only drifts gently back to me. I wipe some under my eyes to catch my tears; I leave a trail of dark circles behind. I sprinkle some in all the places we've been to; A little emotional garbage to lie with the polluting plastic.
I arrive at the door you slammed. I see you've not acknowledged the care package I placed there. I don't knock. I merely pick up the last bit of pain I left there and place it in my heart. A lub is missed, a dub is forgotten, but the old machine picks its pace up again.
I walk away; I still can't understand why we met. Why of all stories ours went the way it did. I'd like to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met. I'd like to think that we broke our hearts to keep the earth on its curved feet. The unanswered questions between us hold the secrets of the ages.
I'm going to continue to think that the entire world would've ceased to exist like it does, if we hadn't met. Because otherwise I'm going back to mine alone, and it lies shattered, and it doesn't make the least sense to me.
Image From: http://soundlogik.com/wp-content/uploads/heartbreak.jpg
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Over the years, two entities have exerted a faithful presence in my existence, through all important occasions – my mother, and the gang of zits that play peek-a-boo on my face as they please. From the horizon of adolescence extending to the better half of my twenties now, I am still very much under their whim and influence.
They've seen it all – my first crush, and many thereon, high-school graduation day, birthday parties that translate into flirting opportunities, first day of college, department symposiums, wedding parties, class trips, first day of work, and client visits (especially when the cutest ones arrive)! They've poked, prodded and generally annoyed the crap out of me and while I swear by my mother’s love, I can’t term those nasty skin interferences anything but pesky.
They say love leaves its own scars. Well, pimples leave their own scars too and they don’t exactly love you! (Although they advertise your secret crush to the world.) I've come to understand that zits, like Spartans, work on principles. Here’s what I think their commandments are.
Perseverance – thou shalt not disappear just because thine host has decided to attack you with the latest powerful skin cream from the market. Thou shalt defend against swears and threats and in general respond by spreading vigorously and putting up a brave, bright red, fat front.
Laugh in the face of resistance – thou shalt laugh at your host when she makes one of her attempts at cleansing/washing/moisturizing your family away, armed with the latest formula face-wash/herbal packs/ grandma’s wisdom of the ages! Laugh out louder! Thou can also play her at her game by pretending to disappear from her cheek, giving her a night’s respite only to re-pop up smack in middle of her forehead the very next morning. Bwahaha my dear girl, bwahaha!
Cover the distance you can – the face is an expanse to explore. Thou shalt not limit yourself to only the cheeks and be modest about it. Open up! Break out! Between the ears are your limits. There’s always an annoying spot to sprout at. Have you tried the spot just beneath the nose yet?
If you can elicit a response, it means you are getting attention – thou shalt always strive to be your itchy and painful best. Make a huge statement. Seek the spotlight. Attract the complaining aunties and repel the cute guys right away. Remember, ruining first impressions is where your glory is at!
Wait for the best days – You shall know it. The excitement will show. The prayers will sound on. Thou shall nevertheless sit tight and put up your best front before the concealers and foundations are brought out to bury you under layers of pretentiousness. Fight harder to be seen. Never fear an icky display. The glory is worth it. Thine salvation lies in driving your host to hide out in the bathroom for atleast three quarters of any party! And if your host appears to make peace with your existence, act like she doesn't care, have patience my fellows. There’ll always be another crush, another party in the waiting. The horizon beyond the nose holds hope. The kingdom behind the nose is all yours to rule!
The last point resonates with me very specifically and the zits always win. I've made the lord proud over the years by turning my other cheek towards photographers in what has become my standard pose. I've gone through bouts of changing hairstyles to hide the little poppers from different angles. I've burnt money and patience over creams, solutions, and packs, all but the Red Orchid which to be frank is out of reach because of all those anacondas.
Come what may, the little gangsters are here to stay. I sometimes work a deal with them and they seem to reluctantly offer me a good day here and there, but inevitably, as their commandments dictate, there’s always another crush, another big day in the waiting and negotiation is pretty much useless. Let the swearing begin!
This article was written for the Garnier Pure Active Neem Facewash contest on Indiblogger.
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No Pimples No Marks - http://bit.ly/GPABlogLinkIndiBloggerActivity
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