the crank

When was the last time things went my way? I'm going to burst soon. I can't have deserved this much punishment. When will it end?

the crutchy life.

The Crutchy Life

1. You have lots and lots of time to contemplate life, but you don't.

2. You experience every mood you have ever known, all in one day, everyday. Except perhaps embarrassment, because you start getting immune to that one.

3. You leave the bathroom door wide open most of the time.

4. You master the art of balancing trays on your lap..

5. ..while eating, texting and/or using the laptop.

6. Walking in squares is not that fun anymore.

7. You get room service.

8. You discover the true meaning of the word/object 'bed'.

9. You choose Grey's Anatomy over The Ten Commandments (totally loony).

10. You sleep alot.

11. You start respecting your family more...mostly their level of patience.

12. You run through messaging packages much more quickly, and still feel emptier than ever.

13. Once you sit down, you tend not to get up. for-like-freaking-ever.

14. The day you don't fall in the bathroom is epic.

15. Things like taking a shower, having lunch/breakfast/dinner/tea/brunch, and moving from point A to point B, becomes an event.

16. Yes, you start having lunch+breakfast+dinner+tea+brunch - everyday.

17. You have messy pathetic moments much more frequently.

18. You have messy lovey-dovey/mushy moments, much more frequently.

19. Your sense of humor becomes directly proportional to ... nothing.

20. You can never be fully comfortable out of the house with 'them'.

21. You really really really start hating stairs. Seeing them, hearing about them, climbing on and off them.

22. Final exams may or may not be a blessing.

23. Room service comes with its own call bell.

24. You like to think you're all murderous and can scare ppl at night when they're alone, you think you've got that image now, sans the eyepatch.

25. Your attempts at being a ninja are hopelessly marred by the pretty clinking and clanking and 'thunk-thunk' at every step.

26. You try to be a ninja anyway.

27. You envy ppl who are doing good workouts and wish you could be doing the same even though you know you wouldn't if you weren't in the crutchy life in the first place and won't once you get out of it either.

28. You feel pathetic, but at the same time you feel pathetic for being pathetic, and angry at feeling both.

29. Flowers eventually wilt.

30. You don't do chores. You devise new ones for everybody in addition to all the ones they are doing already in your place.

Feb 20th.

I, soul alone, am caught in this web of huge proportions. Transparent steel fiber wrapped around and around each wrist – knotted, frailed, knotted – spiraling out, twining up my legs and around my waist; held fast. Web; shiny and translucent, glow-in-the-dark menace and elastic cords designed to cause *panic*

You creep along your master strand, your wide walkway, gangplank, rolling up your spare wire in the other hand upon your natural spool. You, black widow spider, brown widow spider, wolf spider, you clasp together your weaponed hands and cackle. Menacingly. Ghoulish lights flicker off green slime-covered walls, and you cackle. You lightly run a finger, a single finger along a sharp cord as you pass, and sparks fly and screeches are heard and ears protest, and you cackle.

My heart, hard and fast, pushing up towards my throat, threatening to suffocate me, while I try to hurriedly force down air that is non-existent and unreliable. Dark spots appear, lights blur and kaleidoscope, your eyes appear numerous – I blink. You still have 8 eyes.

I want to shrug off these bonds; one good shiver and see them torn at my feet, but steel gossamer is an untried opponent…
My feathers begin to wilt.

Bloodshot eyes stare into bloodshot eyes. Long black tongue hungrily licks its lips while darting tongue frantically licks dry parched lips. Lips bared in a foul grin; lips bared in an angry grimace.
You circle, I am cornered. You against me…

Bring it on.

The Save-day

Today is the save-day. It's time to save emotions, save money, save hope. Tie it all up in a neat bundle, a red polka-dot 'kerchief, knot it onto the end of a stick, and get going. Save-day! I like you.


Time:
Waste?
Uh-oh.

My search..for...

I started my search in familiar places. Some I entered quickly, rapidly, set my hand against the brick and ran my fingers against its cool smooth surface, and felt the crevices, and searched. I paused for a moment on the step as I closed my eyes and breathed in empty air that reminded me of nothing.
The pause. The replay. The pause. The replay.

Other places I entered hesitatingly, haltingly, walking along with a forced nonchalance as if I had wandered there (not) on purpose. Head down, raking the ground with my eyes only to give them a place to look at while I reached there. I stopped. Stared. Dawdled. Lingered. Felt nothing good, nothing happy. Only anger. I molded it, swallowed it. Retraced my steps back to the world of noise and people and...reality.

Other places I avoided completely. The alcove does not miss me. I do not miss it.

The search is not over. It shall continue.

hope

Is it your turn to lose control yet? I keep waiting for you to slip so I can stand up and claim my falls.

Winter afternoons

Afternoons.
*sigh*
Afternoons are not good times. These days. I believe it is the weather, the atmosphere, the routine that has an effect. For, winter afternoons signal the end of the day, the imminent setting of the sun, and the nearby transition to darkness, and evening, and cold.
Hence, they depress me.
Every afternoon finds me curled up in the corner, staring at the artificial flames, seeing past them, feeling so much all at once, and my body trembles with sobs, harsh sobs that may or may not hold tears.
Or, under the heavy quilt, which sees and hears and feels me then and at night, and tries to hug me into itself, tries to comfort me, warm me, and yet, the dying sun has set – and I am warm on the outside, but still cold inside.

I wait for times when memories will bring only smiles. And perhaps a tender touch of wistfulness.

I miss her, who hugs me only with words, and that is better than any bear hug.
I miss him, who wishes and waits and whose path I embellish with flower petals.

The better half that is you

January the 1st deserved mention, but unfortunately got it not.
No matter, there have been days and days after, minutes and moments that brought warmth and energy and smiles and tears - tears of joy, tears of longing, tears of bittersweet emotion. Words. Words that were heavy with emotion and feeling, feeling so pure, so selfless, that it is indescribable, possibly because I can only wish to be so myself.
You are light, you are warmth, you are the sun. The real sun. The only sun. The summer sun.
The strawberry blond that shines and ripples and bursts with fruit-energy. Fresh. Rich. Lush.
Green grass, that needs bare feet to feel alive.
Cold mirror on flushed pink cheeks. Relief. Slowing down of pulse.
The pulse that races. In your presence. In your absence. In my fantasies. Us.
Indescribable. Threads that we wove together, you and I, threads that we kept adding strands to, weaving side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Flaxen thread, ebony silk, warm-brown-soft.
I do not need your open arms to know my worth. Your eyes say it all.
I do not need assurances of loyalty, of faith, of belief, of hope. Your voice radiates it, with laughter, with gruffness, with humility, with passion.
And yet, yet it matters, somehow...somehow it feels good to hear it.. when you say

I love you

burn me...please?

i was the candle and you were the moth. then you were the candle and i was the moth. we burned. you faded. i went out. distance brings cold. do you want to play with fire again? my heart says yes. my mind says no. my soul...i dont understand the language of my soul. i await your answer only.

The lion cub

I’m blotting out several sounds at once. I want to disbelieve what I’m seeing, what you’re showing to me, but its taking effort. I keep getting distracted, but…this is how it goes down. Yes.

Things dictate themselves, over and over again, like lab rodents, hamsters in their wheel, guinea pigs who need ulterior motives. And you ask me to do what?

You give me memories that haunt me for hours and hours and days later. Memories that I sometimes find difficult to escape from. I want release, but do I really? I wish they did not exist, but now I will accept them, embrace them...but make them my own?

I am in a state of mental anguish. Anguish. Chaos. Pain.
Sound. Noise. Heat.
Feeling.

Warmth radiates out from our little circle, our alcove of peace and security. You may try to penetrate it, but you'll probably come up with nothing. It is empty now, polluted by, nothing in particular, and yet very much.

So God help me.

Picking flowers

Sometimes I cannot figure out where the beginning is and where the end. Endless words and feelings pop up in my head and images flicker back and forth like entire film reels. Emotions.

I’m just a silly little girl who thinks she knows a lot but actually knows nothing about anything.

I make mistakes everyday, and now it seems I have started a chain of mistakes that are linked to each other and keep going on and on, a chain reaction I cannot stop, a trail of problems that will not end, a withered daisy-chain that my fingers will not, cannot, stop building.

So help me, God.

It is difficult to point my finger at a single point and say that this is where it all started – my daisy-chain is deceiving…it looks the same wherever I look at it from. Every flower is innocently alike. How cute.

Pathetic is one way to describe me. Foolish is another. Feel free to pick more.

While i wait i might as well discourse

I do not know what I am doing. I did not know I had such little self-control. I want to stop..then I want to start...then I want to stop again - and it goes on and on. Is it wrong? Is it right? Can I explain my actions to someone else? If I cannot, does it mean that it is wrong? Or does it just mean that this is something that other people will not understand?

Of course it is wrong. Of course. Too much happiness is outlawed. It is illegal. It is unfair. One person cannot have so much. I'm trying to stick with it, but soon nature will snatch it back from me. That's how nature goes, that's how it's supposed to work.

Adios love.