Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Of witches and saviors.

The journey between a yes and no makes me a million times older. The number of times I said maybe… now, my heart says maybe without a thought.

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What do you do when your dream is at once sufficient and insufficient to keep you? What do you do when you want your dream to expand and contract all the time, every time? What do you do when the size of your dream has fallen short?

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Who are you? What do you dream? Are your dreams my nightmares? Have you packaged your dreams just so – I tip them, I unravel? Is the distance we travel a mirage? If I shattered it, do the million shards craft a million stories?

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Trophy.
Tryst.
Tyrant.
Tie.

But not with you.

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you loved my demons.
you nurtured my ghosts.

i loved your angels.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Breathe, again.

 Today, I found the voice that wrote.

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I love her. I love her like I have never loved before. Like I will never love again. I love her like this is my last chance at loving. It is silly. It is challenging. It is a reflection.

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I know I live a good life. I wake up to a beautiful view of a sprawling city. I wake up to a cute kid who sleeps so freely, so recklessly on a large bed. I wake up to a wonderful man – a man I will be always indebted and grateful to. I wake up to parents who are eager to share a sliver of my life. I wake up, occasionally, to an old dog with whom I’ve shared so many tender, unbridled moments. I wake up to a smiling maid. I wake up to household chores that I enjoy. I wake up. Everyday.

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A colleague once told me realists were once dreamers.

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I spiraled for nearly a year. What a lie. I spiraled all my life. They saved me. Yes, you.

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I always had direction. Now I don’t. I just float. You’d think, knowing me, this is freeing. I want to undo this freedom. Freedom is only as good as its story, sometimes.

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It is not raining outside anymore. I have the hot chai and the samosa ready,
but not the show.

The night settles around here rather quietly. I have the cold water at my bedside,
but never a good book.

The drive to work is long, allowing time to think. I switch on the radio and roll down the window,
but it doesn’t drown the thoughts.   

Power.
Privilege.
Penance.
Pry.