– hope blooming –

Before late realization hits you hard, you will have all things sorted out.

You will enjoy your morning coffee everyday.

You will put on a new dress and hang out with your best friend with whom who have not met for ages.

You will pack your bags for a short trip in the country side.

You will chat with your neighbours in that park bench which you always noticed while coming back from work.

You will turn on the T.V. and watch crap telly, followed by Chinese takeout.

You will meet someone with whom you will share your ideologies which go on in your chaotic mind.

You will take out that leaflet from your purse and contact the NGO.

You will make yourself a cup of coffee and curl up on the sofa reading Jane Eyre.

You will wake up everyday with a thousand mega-watt smile.
You will find enjoying yourself.

You will find out the real you. 

– nights –

 I wake up with a jolt. Feel my pulse. No. Not feverish at all. I look at the clock. It says 3 :15 a.m. I can hear my own coarse breathing. I feel that my neck is covered in beads of sweat. I empty the bottle of water by my bed with two  and try hard to close my eyes. Next thing I know I see a little girl. She follows me wherever I go. She has wild, unruly and unkempt hair which falls in heaps across her face. She is staring at me intently. I can’t see her. She is like a silhouette. All I can see is her face. The rest of her body seems to be clad in darkness. All I can see is a face, devoid of body parts. Her stance changes and she lunges at me. I stand right there, paralyzed. I try to run but the earth underneath has engulfed my legs in. I am incapable of running from her. I am angry at myself at this observation that the girl standing right in front of me is a living manifestation inside me and she is tearing me apart. She is me. My own self. Sometimes she suffocates me, draining out what little life I have left inside me. Sometimes she just stands there. Watching. Waiting to pounce. 

She is a shade of own self and envelops me, depriving me of the colors of life. How wrong I was when I expected the moments of ordinary life filled with hues. But the truth was that it was filled with bitter charcoal. She is responsible for the vagueness. She holds on to me, against my will and whispers to me about the pleasures of  life.

I don’t have any solution as to how I can escape her. I cannot. She is my own self. Going through all the motions, she holds me with real physical force. I try, but with time comes exhaustion. And I lose the battle. I give in. The girl slowly converges into my body and finally I am at peace. I bid adieu to the madman inside me ages ago. Why try now, when you know the authenticity of it? Only then do I give in. The girl jars me with all her might. I drown gradually wishing for colourful skies, fairy lights, bloomed flowers and lanterns. But there’s no escaping. No. There’s no escape from this.