So I stood there in the rain with you.

Dear Krunal

I wasn’t sure if I should write this but I just watched a spoken word performance and I thought I should. I know that I left us and messed it all up. But recently I have been seeing that I probably am the kind of girl who wants to make sure everything is going right. I take risks, only when I don’t risk the risk of everything falling apart, only when I am sure and only when I have once seen how it goes, because probably there’s a part of me that doesn’t make mistakes, that is obsessed with getting the bull’s eye in the first attempt, in the first story, in the first love all through to the end to a happy ending in the very first time. 

Every movie I watch, I think of us, what went wrong and how else could things be. Songs, stories, quotes and situations are guests that visit me often with gifts, of our little time together. When I felt strong and weak at the same time. “Vulnerable” and “invincible” in the same breath. There was too much diplomacy, only that I didn’t know if I was ready to keep swaying between the two points forever. I didn’t know if I wanted to reach a destination ever. 

It was important to feel that power brought by insecurity and at the same time seek the answer to the question: Am I in love with you?

All I wanted was being with you, that gave me a power as big as the abyss that I was standing on the edge of, being at the same time, unaware of its depth and volume.

I ran away, but am still there, standing and staring into the hole but looking at the impossible dreams I had. Fate and efforts to make it work no matter what probably disqualify me because I ran away.

But I ran till I pant with nothing but memories of you. That’s all that remains, it’s the scale for everything. Everything that I hate and love myself for. Unanswered questions breathe abundantly in my head, and answers always are twins. Two sides to every coin. 

Today, I was walking back from the Railways station and it began to rain, heavily. I took out my rain coat, covered my head and bag, I picked up my slippers in the hand, looked up at the sky and smiled. I continued walking. The other people took to shelter in the shops nearby. I was listening to music and I decided to sing loudly as I walked.Guess what, I did. I didn’t give one damn about what people thought. The thought that I never ignored you and gave most of my attention to you, always on my toes, may perhaps be a reason why I felt like running away. 

I stand confused before this huge hole, not knowing if it’s worth, or should I say not knowing whether I was worth.

But it always falls back to you, yet I don’t think I will come back. I don’t know why, but I still stand in the rain and think of you. I still carry your memories dearly. I miss being with you.

I probably miss you. So I stood there in the rain with you.

Because ​some butterflies fly even if it rains.

Sachin- A billion dreams.

I am writing after a long time, and I have only written about one specific thing so far. all my previous write ups have been about this one specific person in my life. There is still a lot about that one, but right here, right now, about an hour and a half ago, I got back from watching the movie that the whole of India has been awaiting since the past year. ‘Sachin- A billion dreams’ indeed.

Sachin’s batting was the one thing that united the country in those tough times. Sachin has mentioned that his father would often tell him, “whatever you do in life,never take shortcuts. All that matters in the end is what kind of a person you become. Never take shortcuts, always work hard.” All throughout the movie, I had tears in my eyes, questions and revelation in my head, a scream in my throat and only one name in my heart, the repetitive chant of Sachin’s name which is holy to every Indian.

Watching one man connect the entire nation- irrespective of the time- no doubt that the country was in turmoil and was unstable. But one man wove the entire nation into one people. The pressure of expectations and hope was indeed too much, like it always is- All or nothing at all, Sachin was expected to deliver the best, but ran a risk as big of being criticized and reproached.

Watching the movie, the documentary- drama, I felt for certain that such a person, such a a soul, such a heart could move mountains and tear oceans- which it did, because people’s hearts are mountains and oceans- massive and difficult. Such a human, who does his work, but knowingly or unknowingly, starts a fire in the hearts of people. People of India have never felt more patriotic or proud of their country than when they have beheld the Little Master walk on the stadium with his bat. Sachin has been the cricketer inside everybody who watches him and feels a strong sense of euphoria arousing inside that makes him or her feel that he or she is capable of anything and everything.

Being a notorious, shy, innocent, cute, hardworking and determined boy who is rather short with those curly hair and that lovely smile, Sachin came from a middle-class family, and represented a great portion of the Indian society. There have been movies which have cast actors who have played other sports persons, and have done a phenomenal job by the way, but the way there is no actor but Sachin himself in this movie is really very realistic.

Sachin has done more than just reach out to people and to weave them as one one. he has enabled the people to reach themselves and identify themselves as one wholesome entity. he has inspired millions to dream and believe in the matter of their dreams. His story is not a fictitious fable that teaches us to believe in glass slippers, enchanted apples, eternal roses, powerful rings and mutant spiders. His story is a fairy tale for adults who think that fairy tales do not exist. As said by one of the Chairmen of the BCCI ( I am sorry for I do not recall the name ), Sachin is a genius, one of a kind born in a hundred years or so. Well, we can certainly see the results of his dedication, hard work, perseverance and devotion. Knowingly, or unknowingly, as I like to believe, these geniuses have the power to change the world just by doing what they do. Time and their way of doing things could be the factors which make the change, because there are so many others doing the same thing. It could be destiny, but nonetheless, it happens. They happen, and they happen to us. Their life becomes important to us. We begin identifying ourselves with them.

The call of ‘Sachin…Sachin…’ has Sachin’s name embossed on it, it reminds him of the responsibility on his shoulders. But it also carries a phenomenal frenzy with it when people say it out loud. It gives a sense of hope, of belonging, of being one people. It gives us an identity, and of course, goosebumps. Those electrifying goosebumps!

It would make no difference to the people even if critics do their job of criticizing it as a movie. They are just doing their job, but they are also fans, who analyze the movie for a movie. Yet the movie has already accomplished it’s objective- winning the hearts of the people even more- an intrinsic achievement. Along with A R Rahman’s music, blissful and magical, the fireworks are felt in the heart as a result of what one sees onscreen.

A legend onscreen.

There’s No Living Strong Without You.

​Every time I passed a cigarette shop, I considered stopping and buying a Marlboro. I always knew that I shouldn’t smoke, because it isn’t good for health. Well, you don’t so much as care for your own health when the person whom you’d give your life for, smokes. I had smoked with Krunal and I did it only because I wanted to be with him and because he did it. It may sound silly, but that’s what it has always been. But I don’t smoke because, it causes my throat to ache and makes me unable to sing. It also damages the lungs and stamina, both I need to be able to cycle. Well, but I have smoked once after I made him leave me. 

One day, when I was walking back home, I felt a desire to buy a Marlboro. I had only 13 rupees and that would suffice a Marlboro Light. Krunal used to get those for me because I was a starter. But he would let me have a drag or two from his Advanced.

I wasn’t going to stop in front of the shop,in fact I had walked past it. However, I had retraced my steps back to the shop and asked that lady whether she had a Marlboro Light. She didn’t. She was giving me another cigarette, but I insisted on Marlboro Light. 

“I need it for a science experiment, and therefore it needs to be a Marlboro Light,” I had told her. She had said that I could come after 2 days and get the required cigarettes. As I was walking away, I realized that I had lied to myself. 

I need it for a science experiment.

It was a dumb thing to say. That woman had sold thousands of cigarettes and I was expecting her to believe me. Yes, she didn’t have anything to do with why I was wanting a cigarette, her job was only to sell them. However, that day, I realized that it is easy to lie to oneself. I wasn’t lying to the lady, but to myself.

I didn’t get any Marlboro. But I walked home telling myself that illusion is a war in itself.

I had made Krunal tell me whom he liked. And now I had made him leave me. Was I to be proud of myself?

He didn’t love me and it had mattered to me to know how far he’d go for me…Too many questions were unanswered. I know that as long as we were together, nothing else mattered. But, it was to me that literally nothing else mattered. I was losing myself and the ability to understand anything, any words. Am I my understanding? 

Just more and more questions swept me away into a void where there were no answers. It was an edge, a corner which would tear into a deep dark valley and it was only a matter of his ” I have never loved her” before I pushed myself into the abyss. I no longer knew what “strength” or “belief” meant…

May be I should have stayed longer to find out. He did say that we should give things time. But I didn’t know what else to do if not push him away. I was ripping myself apart every night. Something inside me was missing because  I was starting to feel unwanted in his life.

I had a lot of expectations from him. I was thinking he was something he was not. I was probably changing what he was by not really accepting what he was. I was failing to understand him perhaps. 

There were reasons and situations which led me to make him leave me. Nonetheless, my Paris was with him. I had felt safe with him, at peace and at an end. Safety, I realized, is not about feeling protected. It’s about feeling vulnerable enough to protect yourself and someone else. It was an end in itself, there was nothing to it and yet it was everything that mattered to me. But maybe I was just going around the same circles. He mattered to me, then why did I make him leave…? 

One of his best friends had said that if I loved Krunal, I shouldn’t lie to him. 

I didn’t want to be told around. I hadn’t lied to him. 

But I had doubted if I had spoken the truth on the day I had forced him to tell me whom he liked. I had recently started to mock myself and…

“the day that he had proposed to me had now been reduced to the day on which I had forced him to tell me whom he liked”

Do things tend to become vague as some other situations occur. Perhaps. 

It’s been 4 months now and I can’t not want to think about us. It was confusing, what we were. But we were. If Krunal was a mistake, I would make that mistake over and over. Millions of quotes read numerous things. I know that they don’t dictate my story. But they are reflections of someone’s stories. 

Why does his name make me weak?

I wasn’t lying when I told him that I love him, was I? Why do I need to ask? 

What is within me? What is it that I feel? Yes, I miss Krunal a lot, but I closed all doors that lead to him.

I don’t want it to end. I have never wanted it to end. It hurt me because I thought he was as crazy as me. It was tough to accept that he wasn’t and so I couldn’t and I made him leave me… Then I ran. I ran away from everything. I knew that he didn’t love me, I knew that everyone has their own priorities. I was also aware that we tend to value the importance of things once we’ve lost them. Well, there was a necessity to prove that he didn’t love me. There was a need to answer my own doubt. There was an utter need to value what I had. The only way I could see was by running away. 

I miss Krunal even if he never really went down on his knees for me. I miss his voice, his eyes, his face, his hands, his walk, his shoes, his hair… I am into a dark pit which looks like it’s filled with light and clarity. It’s not. 

It was just a crush. I was meant to be crushed.


​She saw him and fell. 

There were legs moving to and fro, some were shifting here and there. People had gathered around her and a crowd was formed. She saw a lot of people in her hindsight. They were all blur and meaningless. She didn’t care that she had fallen and embarrassed herself. She had just fallen, as she already knew she had. She sat just like that on the road and there was a blank look on her face. People around her didn’t matter because she was looking at the one thing that mattered the most, that person. Him. She was just looking at him. 

She had lost herself, her friends and she had made herself aloof. She had made him leave her. It had been four months, but everything around went on, as it does, always. The college had scheduled three environmental awareness classes that were mandatory. So, she was in college and as she had been walking in through the main gate, she had decided not to look for that one face. She had convinced herself to not look for any red jackets, FILA canvas or guys with curly hair. But just then, as she had entered the gate, she saw someone wearing a white wristband. So far, no problem. But then she saw his white shoes, his black jacket and his curly hair as he sat there rubbing his hands with his head down. He probably wore white shoes now and this black jacket was perhaps new.

Her eyes refused to look away until he had lifted his head a bit,although she continued to walk because she mostly wished for him to not see her. But she’d seen him, her heart had started skipping and she’d fallen. 

It was him. They didn’t talk anymore because she had wanted him to leave her and she had gotten what she asked for and she’d lost him. The moment that she’d seen him, everything had come back. Their meetings and conversations and fights and waits… It had all come back, she had wanted to run back into his arms and stay there forever. But different situations had been called for. 

“I want him to leave me now. He doesn’t want love in his life. I don’t want me to be there then. That’s why I think it’s just better that he leaves me. 

He clearly said that he doesn’t want love to be there, he is not interested. 

Well… I am not needed then. 

May be he won’t fall in love. If that’s what he wants, I just want him to be happy. 

I always will support him. But I won’t be around. He doesn’t want love to be there, I support him.

I don’t want to live on his ‘maybe’ … 

Cigarettes help him get off stress… I feel like he is choosing cigarettes over me. 

I don’t want to stay like this. But I cannot leave. 

That’s why I need him to leave me. 

I don’t want to wait for him to fall.”

It was what she’d told herself and had made him leave. 

Things were very different now and she had made sure that she wouldn’t be able to go back. She was just some crazy person after all, who had fought with him and was jealous of his best friend whom he had had a crush on. She couldn’t get over his favorite Football club, actor, bike etc etc. She always overdid things. Well, guess she was a lunatic. 

Now here she was, still sitting on the ground, knowing that she’d already fallen for him anyway. 

Gradually, people’s voices interrupted her thoughts. 

“There are no stones to trip over, so how did you fall?”

“I saw him and fell”, she replied. 

Bloody Beautiful. 

​It’s 6 in the morning and my thoughts are terrorized by the nightmare I just had. 

Life seemed to lose meaning. No matter if I clenched my fists or let them lose, the sand slipped out and into the void. He was still 90% what my thoughts were about and I didn’t even know what he was up to. But, I knew I couldn’t go back to him anymore. 

It was stressful for him as well, in ways that I couldn’t understand and that was one pf the reasons that I asked him to leave me. 

Now, due to reasons that I could only assume and in a series of events that I knew nothing about, the scenes I could see comprised of Krunal, of course. He was wearing his red jacket over a black printed t shirt and faded blue jeans. He was also wearing a cap, the kind which is worn in winter to cover the ears, and his FILA canvas shoes. He really was beautiful. 

In your dreams, you can be anything. It isn’t even necessary to have a physical form. Sometimes you’re just looking at yourself in a different body and sometimes it’s people whom you’ve never seen. There are visions and scenes that don’t seem to make sense but even so they pose great importance to you. 

Krunal was holding a gun. He was shouting and yelling, but I wasn’t able to hear him. I began wondering if I was ever able to hear what he was trying to say. Then I heard a massive sound. He had pulled the trigger and his body had collapsed down to the floor. 

But anything can happen in the world of Dreams, so something unusual did happen. He was still conscious and there was one of his best friends in front of him. She called out, “Kruni!” in a state of great shock and disappointment. He was still in some of his senses. There was something that was left to be said and she said it. 

“I love you.” His body gave a big jerk, but his eyes preferred to look at the darkness of their own eyelids. 

Krunal was gone, right before my eyes. 

I had considered committing suicide and he had always been unsupportive. But here he was. How could someone who had complete opposite views, succumb to that very idea? 

I thought of everything that he had done in his life and everyone who’s life he had been a part of, even though I didn’t know it all. Krunal mattered to me in a way that I didn’t want him to because he wasn’t what I was thinking of him to be and I had to accept that. 

Now some of my friends, who in reality have never met him, were his friends in the dream and would often hang out together. I thought of his mother and sister and how he wanted to work hard and make their lives better. But now he was gone, like his father,about whom I didn’t really know anything. 

I hated my tears because the first one came from the right eye and psychology says that that implied that the person cries out of happiness. 

But in a way I was happy, because finally she had said it. 

He had had a crush on her but he refused to say anything to her because he didn’t want their friendship to be jeopardized. I was happy that finally they were in love with each other, but he wasn’t going to be around. 

I was later taken to the room where he’d shot his brains out and I could smell the blood. I could smell him. We had been quite intimate and he was all that I wanted to smell. My thoughts were running so fast around him that they seemed to be stuck. 

When she said those words and his body jerked, I wondered if he was making that one last attempt to live again. He was trying to fight and wanted to get up again because life from now on would be different and he was going to like this difference. His body’s response to what she had said was close to what he used to do when he was happy. He would dance when his favorite football club won, when his favorite player goaled, his favorite actor won an award and when he was served his favorite food. That jerk was one final attempt to live, to walk beside her again, only this time, he wouldn’t have to imagine they’d hold hands. He could actually hold her hand. He wouldn’t have to change the topic when she asked him who his crush was and he wouldn’t have to shy away. 

But, if only that jerk was as strong as that trigger. It had taken his life to reach this point and as cruel as it seemed, it was bloody beautiful. 

Watching him, I forgot about everything. I didn’t want to wake up. I was scared because I had already lost him and now I’d be feeling that loss everytime. Nothing mattered anymore, but I had chosen this. I had chosen to walk away so I couldn’t really expect him to stop me. No more expectations! 

Even in the dream I felt defeated. I could not figure out anything. Krunal was gone and this dream was just probably a concrete milestone to add another layer to that fact. 

It’s a good thing that sometimes you forget the dreams as you spend your consciousness after you wake up. 

I did wake up to face the date which would mark four months complete to us parting our ways, knowing he is there and hoping for the greater good for him. I have other questions, but they are to eat away at me, and not for someone else to answer. 

Live Strong, Krunal. And love strong too. 


​She always identified herself as punching walls, venting all her rage out, screaming with her hands grabbing at her hair, tears in her eyes, constantly running as if her life depended on her feet. She was an explosion. She valued the moments when she got angry, because she was then defending something. She was fending for something she believed in. She always loved fighting. 

She would often turn everything into fighting and would fight. She loved fighting so much that she made it all about fighting and then fought for everything. She just didn’t know when to stop. That was her determination. 

Her doubts first began to surface when she found out that not everyone loves a fighter. Of course everyone loves to armour up and fight, win glory, respect and pride, however, it’s all different for different people. She looked at her hands, they’d held swords, spears and shields. She also had her scars from the wounds when she was in action. Her head always rose so that she could see the setting sun on the horizon after each battle. She looked at the sun and would smile, thinking about the moments of battle during the day. 

She felt the urge to pick a weapon up. She had trained all her life to become a warrior because they were revered, glorified and looked up at. But that happened mainly when they won. So she worked hard on ensuring that she always won. The crowds applauded and cheered for her. It wasn’t the fall of the enemy, but her own glory that mattered, for she didn’t really know who the opponent was. But she had also come to know that it wasn’t always about the win, or about the fall of the opponent, or about dying. Glory came when a fighter stood her ground, when she respected her fallen opponent and when she didn’t judge her. 

Why did she crave for glory? 

She didn’t quite know. But the answers were all in those moments when her hands held the sword for it was then that the chivalry was served. Besides, she was dangerous and all dangerous things seek attention.

She needed to know she was fierce, that she was wild and she was dangerous. So, she exploded every time. She staggered when she found out that she wouldn’t impress everyone, which was quite contrary to what she had thought. But she was starting to come to terms with it. 

It was now that she became interested in the stories of other warriors. What kind of lives did they live and what must they have had to go through… 

She felt the empty space inside her and ran. She ran till her being felt the lungs inside her drum. That way she was sure that she was still alive, at least physically. 

She looked at her hands, again. She knew what she was running away from. It was something inside her and the reason she fought so hard was because she wanted to see if she was strong enough to take on whatever that something was. Also, she sought attention and she wasn’t sure whether that something inside her would even acknowledge her like she did it. She was preparing for a fight where there is no audience and there would be no applause or cheers,just she and the opponent within. 

What a dummy she was being, of course there are no watchers when you are about to fight your own monsters. She was just too much. It was necessary to run in order to see if anyone was chasing you. Also, it was necessary to run if something was chasing you. Whatever it was, it was eating her. She was trained to fight opponents outside, but how was she to even lift her sword up in front of the this monster that fed of her own breath? There was on way. 

She needed to pick up a weapon. She picked up a razor blade. She tried to think of all the pain she’d caused to other opponents and slit her arm several times. She blamed herself heavily and tried to cut the cancerous thoughts. However, she was severing her own skin. 

But she was a fighter and her love for fighting had made her cry and laugh and feel pain. She couldn’t have terminated the only thing that she had-Herself. 

She put the blade away,looked at her blood. She was still alive. She clenched her fists. Yes, that was her power- her determination, her belief and her faith. She wasn’t the best warrior but her spirit was one of a kind. Her fight was her breath. She was worth being fought for even if other people didn’t think she was. She would continue to be a warrior and she would fight for herself. 

A wild girl is allowed to be weak when… 

​I went to drop the greeting card at Krunal’s. I dropped it through the safety door

It was his birthday today and it’s been almost four months since we parted ways. The reason for us parting ways was mainly me.

I never really allowed whatever he did to get through to me. I tried hard to find out whether he had feelings for me.  Even when it was quite evident that he didn’t want to lose me, I always found it difficult to grasp, to be sure that he really wanted to be with me like I wanted to be with him. But of course, you can’t dislike someone because they aren’t you. Nobody is ever going to be you. Also, there are times when you hate yourself too, so it doesn’t really balance everything out. 

Anyway, I expected too much of him and I always kept complaining. Whenever he did something, I would ask why’d he do that. When he didn’t do something, I’d ask why didn’t he do it… I made it very difficult,I don’t quite know why. 

I did feel like I was high on him, still am. I still miss him, but I would have missed him even more had we not parted. 

I was always reckless and wild. 

Today as I dropped the card, I walked away thinking that whether the card got to him or not would not be my concern. I have no expectations whatsoever. Today, I felt myself capable of indulging in the exercise of not having expectations at all. 

He made me weak in the head, the chest, the stomach and the knees. I know my dreams are important. Dreams are worth all the crap that you have to go through to get them real. He was a major part of my dream. His was the hand that I wanted to hold, his were  the eyes that I wanted to look at me proudly… 

But I was expecting a little too much. Perhaps the world wasn’t ready for us. 

I asked him to leave me, he did. Yes he did put up a fight because he didn’t want to leave me. But I couldn’t have stayed. I made him leave, he left. I got what I asked for. But I lost him and most of everything that was in the middle of my chest, that made me feel like I wasn’t alone… 

Now, I was alone. I had never been able to accept things the way they were, maybe that’s why I wanted I was so reckless and made it difficult for everyone to be with me. 

I was weakened by him. However, a wild girl is allowed to be weak for the  guy she’s broken her heart for, isn’t she? 


​Somebody out (t)here wants to talk to you, wants to laugh with you. She’s wanting to high five you in a way where everyone else would be jealous of your bond. Well, not exactly jealous, but in a way where her life would be proud of having you in it, no matter what. It would not matter if you didn’t have time to listen to her long story as long as you really want to listen to it and can see it in her eyes that she wants to throw all those expressions out in front of you and feel lighter and brighter. 

Now, when I say that she wants to feel lighter, don’t think that I am only thinking about the easing of the pain part. No. I am also talking about that feeling when as she is telling you the story, the assurance that you are listening and the lessons that she learned, everything touches her body at a point and bursts into a million tiny sparkles of light and begin to illuminate her insides- each spark throwing out light multifold. 

She reads, draws, dances, sings, watches television and also looks around and walks and cycles… She thinks of you, of what you were like as a child, of what you must be doing at the moment or the moment before, of how your mother is doing… 

When she sees her mother smile, she instantly longs to see your mother smile too… 

She doesn’t want to know how many times her own heart beats in a minute, but she wants to listen and feel every heartbeat of yours, wanting to hear you pant, sigh, sob and breathe. 

May be you only see her building walls, yes, she did say that she doesn’t want anyone around. But you do know that she is just big talk about that, don’t you? 

Do you see that she’s waiting for you on the other side of her walls, wanting for only the two of you to be there to listen to a story that she has to tell? 

Someone is waiting for you. Someone in love, someone in pain, someone wanting to die and be destroyed, but be in love once again.

One and a half. 

I am one and a half step away from taking two steps away from him, from everyone. So, I have covered a distance of only half a step. So far!
But things start appearing in front of me when I turn back. When one door was shut, I was left outside and there were no more doors.
You’re carrying nothing, but you feel heavy. Well, is something wrong with you?
I look down at my hands and try to see if something is written on them. I say something into the void, just to hear my voice that is different from others around. I comb my hair and I think of the girl who used to have the same hair but in the longer version of them. I wonder if she is really there. I dress myself up and think of building myself, what I am, I want it to reflect in my clothes. I want my aura to be strong and enterprising. Well, so far, things are good, if not great. Then I look at that face in the mirror and I see all those journeys to that one place for someone, who looks into a mirror to see if he’s growing a beard or not, and I cannot think of anything else.
I feel high at just the thought!
How lucky must that mirror be, getting to look at him so closely. Well, the mirror wouldn’t find any solace in his eyes, because he would see himself in it, he wouldn’t see the mirror.
Never mind.
It’s some things that you’re carrying, and you’re incapable to classify them into “luggage” or “burden”. It feels so much like you’re walking aimlessly, that it becomes all you want to do and probably also manifests as your goal.
It’s beautiful, but it isn’t true.
It’s difficult, but it’s real.
It’s things you never wanted it to be, but you don’t want to let go ever. You try to keep taking steps, you’re busy seeing them walk away. Those feet which wore FILA shoes, will never again walk beside you.
Nobody blames, only Karma does. You have to carry your choices, call them burden or luggage.
There are no more lessons, just ways of getting lost. Words lose their meaning, you find yourself at failure to understand. Infact, you understand too much of what you don’t understand and you are sick of saying that you don’t understand.
All of it, so beautiful. But yet you want to run away from it. Yup, you don’t stand in front of a volcano when it erupts and admire how Nature works, unless you want to get burned. Well, it charrs and burns and leaves scars, but that twinkle in your eyes of having survived that, of having lived to see that… Do you feel how awesome you are?
But they talk of leaving it all behind. It made me happy, so much that I could think of nothing else. It made me sad, so much that I wanted to tear myself apart.
I have to choose here, what do I think? Do you ever feel like you were unable to answer whether you are good or bad.
Do you want to sit down, hold your head and cry? Would you rip yourself apart and burst into a million fragments of light? I wonder.

One and a half… I don’t think you can fix a broken heart in two steps. Do you?
Tell me, how far will you go?


I read a lot of books and quotes on people in love writing about what they saw in their loved ones. They wrote about how beautiful her eyes are, how his heart beat faster, how he got nervous, how the evening became perfect, etc etc…
Well, I completely agree. But I believe it all started this way…
When you feel this something inside of you. You begin to feel every word, every blink of yours whilst in front of that one person. You can feel your eyeballs moving, your palm going cold, your heart drumming a roll, your hair in action…every little thing appears as if in high definition. Yes, perhaps the definition is high, you are into something great, something totally out of the world yet very much in this world. It is just beautiful. May be you don’t even know what you’re talking about but you know it is true. It gives you the greatest power and it makes you greatest beggar. It rips you apart, it joins your pieces. It becomes what it isn’t only to become what it is. It is the feeling of a zing of a lifetime. It brings to you everything and perhaps nothing more can really be said about it other than, “it is beautiful” because when you try to explain…it just becomes all the more … all the more… beautiful and you find yourself lost to all of it again.

Difficult, but real.