Melancholy Morning

I wrote this a few months back while I was dealing with some past unhappy memories. I hope you guys like it. Leave your thoughts below. I do so love to hear from you guys. xx

 

My dishevelled hair,

just the way you like it, crowd my wet eyes.

I do not want the world to see

and say that you do not care for me.

My voice, so hoarse and deep,

I say it’s due to the early morning, for

I do not want them to know, I again cried myself to sleep.

My fingers shake violently. It’s from

the chilly winter wind, they say and I agree.

because I do not want them to see,

how hard I am trying to bind together our broken memories.

– Rashi

HOPE, LOVE, and bucket loads of FUN.

Exams are bad. But the aftermath is worse. Oh, the anxiety, the terror, the nervous glances at the university website with eagle eyes scanning for the result. That was the condition  I was in for a week after my last exam on December 24th, 2016. And, as if this was not enough, my mum was working hard to keep the fact that I’ve got just one year left to decide what I wanted to do with my life fresh in my memory. Yeah, I get it already. Give me a break. And who hired you guys as my life advisors anyway? But, you cannot just blurt that to your parents and relatives who ‘mean well and want the best for you’. So, watchful nights started to close in and by the end of the year, I was officially freaking out.

”One year and I will have to face the same dilemma as Robert Frost did in ‘The Road not taken’! ”

”Too many responsibilities. How am I gonna handle them all? ”

But the worst of my unsolved meditations was…

”Who the hell is going to hire me anyway?” Continue reading “HOPE, LOVE, and bucket loads of FUN.”

Left me alone again, didn’t you?

My eyes were closed shut. I could hear the pitter-patter of rain at my window. It felt as if someone was knocking right at the walls of my heart, pleading to get out. With a sigh, I made my way towards the window to finally reward the relentless drops of water and let them touch my skin and fade all the marks of memory – painful memory – that once belonged to someone to whom I offered my heart. Someone who took it with a gentle smile on his lips and then, right in front of my eyes, crushed it in ways more than one, leaving it alive enough to pump the blood through my veins but not enough to cause me to live with the passion and enthusiasm that was me. What was he thinking? And why did he do it? And does he have any idea what he has reduced me to? Was it all intentional or not?

‘I am confused’ he had said while still looking into my eyes, feigning tears of honesty. Or was it just me who thought that he was false? Continue reading “Left me alone again, didn’t you?”