The pre-not-so-golden moments

I want to write this, cause I don't want to forget it. If possible, I want to capture each emotion felt, from beginning to end.

In February, I had one exam to give. An exam I wasn't really keen on, knowing that I would not be prepped well enough, and I couldn't possibly achieve the required 2-3 years work experience (which the exam demanded) from a downloaded pdf. I cribbed about it, and my friends cribbed with me. (Darlings that they are :) ), and I knew I couldn't escape it. It just wasn't an option. I had to gather myself and give it, and I tempted myself into doing so, by imagining how great life would be after I gave it.

So what, I thought, it's just one exam. How tough could it be? Study, study for about 2 months, and just give it. Piece of cake. Would have been. But it wasn't meant to.

Around mid February, the dance school where I shimmy and shake, decided to play host to an international dance congress and arrange a tempting array of workshops, from belly dancing, to the mambo, from salsa casino rueda to popping. And boy, was I tempted. Learning these styles from those awesome dancers?! Hell yeah!

And then began the turmoil. The balancing act. I asked my mom, and she gave me a bewildered look. Her exact words were, Whats to manage? Right. What was there to manage? Work, study, go for the workshops for three days. Have the syllabus covered till then. I was fretting for no reason. It still was a piece of cake.

A week later, that piece of cake decided it didn't want to be just a piece of cake anymore. What was the fun in that? So, it decided to morph. I got a call from one of the instructors saying I was selected for team A and that practice would start the next day, at sharp 6 AM. Whats to rejoice? Well, Team A was team A. It meant that we would get to perform, on the final day, in front of all those awesome international instructors and crowd, and come down from the stage receiving the showered compliments oh so modestly. And who was selected for team A? Me!

After rejoicing and making phone calls to share the happiness, to people who did not understand what team A was all about, but woohoo-ed anyway, reality started to dawn upon me. Morning 6am to 8 am practice. Then work. Then study? That piece of cake was starting to get lodged in my throat now.

Deep breaths.

The situation was still in control. I'd practice in the morning, it was just for a week anyway. Work. And then study in the evening. Plus, I had the weekend. No friends on weekends, no movies. Just study. I mulled over it, and finally decided, this is how it would be. Friends would understand. Ofcourse they would. Not that they had a choice anyway. Right, so I could still swallow that piece of cake. No worries.

Practice started as planned, at 6 AM sharp ( a minute late, and you were screwed) and I have never been that exhausted in the mornings. The song was a fast one, and I was literally all over the place. I spun off balance, and I spun too slow. And I elicited frowns and tsk tsk(s). Not being one to quit, though my body begged me to, I pushed myself harder. I used to come home dead tired in the morning, just about manage a power nap (which I made myself believe would carry me through the day), have breakfast and rush to work. To keep my promise of studying in the evening, I would try to read a few pages, often ending up digressing or sleeping in the process. Impressing my way into the final team meant so much to me, that I actually took time out to learn a quick handstand and did so disregarding the muscle ache. As fate would have it, the handstand for the girls was scrapped out of the choreography, and I was scrapped out of the dream team. I was annoyed, frustrated, and I felt like I had been on a roller coaster after just having eaten. My limbs ached, I was sore, I hadn't studied, and I wasn't getting to perform on stage. I was a mixed bag of disappointment, relief, fatigue, and tension.

And then to make matters better, or worse, my dance teacher put us in a consolatory team B. Team B would have 3 dances, and practice again, from 6-8 am. My body screamed no. My mind went into overdrive, and I had no idea if I wanted in or out. Say no, say no, study and just go enjoy the workshops. Hell with the performance.

But I said yes. By this time, my reasoning capacity found it hard to deal with my silly surge of ambition, and just gave up. It was the classic, if you can't beat them, join them situation. I wish I could say I had an idea of where I was going and that I had a "plan", and that I could answer the "Why are you doing this again?" question with some amount of aplomb. I couldn't. I was just going with the flow, too confused to reason with myself, and too deep to back out. So, I continued to get up in the mornings, go to work, and come home and read pages. I postponed all plans with friends/family till April, and my list of calls to return kept growing huge.

Somewhere in the beginning of the month, in which all this was supposed to take off or crash land, a close friend happened to come down for a visit. She was super excited and so was I. Plans for stayovers, parties, and hanging out were being made, and suddenly, 24 hours didn't cut it anymore. Each minute seemed to count, and I felt like I was chasing time while it leaped away from me.

She left in a weeks time, and I was a week and a half away from the event. I wasn't sure if I was in team B either, as I was against 5 girls who were a level higher in the school of dance, and while we had 6 guys to partner up with, one guy's place in the whole performance was questionable. And if he went, I was told I would have to go. So, the story went like this..I was practicing every morning from dawn, for two hours, for a choreography I had no idea whether I would be a part of, whereas I should have been reading more pages? Yes, that was the story.

Throughout this whole madness that had become my life, I hadn't lost those silly surges of ambition. Or stupidity. Or sheer insanity. Call it what you like. While practicing one afternoon, my dance teacher thought it would be a neat idea to put in 16 spins on the introductory piece of the music. Naturally, he asked us to show him if we could do so. Having come straight from a friends place, I didn't have the customary socks with me. And the rule in dancing is, you don't spin without socks. Especially not on a rough terrace floor. But, as I mentioned before, my reasoning capacity had called it quits, and so with nothing to stop me, I spun. X into 16 times. I can't recollect X.

X must have been a nice whole number though, and it made its wholeness known. The next day I got up with calluses all over the soles of my feet. I felt proud. I shouldn't have.

A day later, they grew into a big blister, that spread from my little pinky toe to my big non pinky toe, and covered the ball of my right foot. I went for practice anyway. And I danced.

Again, I probably shouldn't have.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the situation with my foot got worse. The next morning, I had to miss practice. The blister was full, it was soft, and I couldn't touch the ball of my right foot to the floor. I limped, and it hurt. Since I had to balance my weight on my left foot and the side of my right foot, I started having back pain. Realising it wasn't going to harden soon or burst with the puss and water it had lovingly accumulated, I had to get the blister surgically drained. This meant that the skin had to be cut off post draining, and I couldn't dance for two days. I was a week away from the event.

As luck would have it, (yes, luck does figure into the story somehow), dance practice was canceled for those two days and was rescheduled for the weekend. And that wasn't practice, that was going to be elimination. It was deciding time.

Having been warned not to dance for two days, I spent those two days revising that sequence in my mind. I believe (at the risk of sounding corny) that if your mind can conceive it, you can achieve it. It was time to put that belief to test. I'd revise expressions, the sequence and imagine the body movements. I had created a third person view, and I would critique my dance in my head.

D-day came soon enough ( it always does). By now I had rehearsed the sequence mentally, more than those X into 16 times that gave me that monumental blister. And then, I showed it off. I danced with abandon, while my mind counted each beat.

123...567...123...567...pause..smile...spin...stop...half split..bodywave...123...567...

My face was pulled into an (hopefully) oomph-ish pout (smiling in salsa makes you look like a dork. Unless its once of those island songs that go la la la la la) and my mind kept guiding me.

Lopsided smile now, pout now, little steps, count your spins, spot your partner, listen to the beat!

When it was done, I stood, huddled amongst the group, mentally preparing myself for disappointing comments and decisions. Being slightly more realistic than optimistic, I don't believe that the effort you take necessarily transforms into those amazing moments of satisfaction people keep dreaming about. Sometimes it does, and it almost always does in movies, but I'm no actress.

Excellent energy... very good expressions... you are obviously in. But obviously! Mine would say something like You are still not getting the spins right. A tsk. Next time maybe, practice your spins. I'd be lucky if the critique was just limited to spins.

I sighed, and broke out of my reverie (if that's a right word for such kind of musings), to look up at the object of such assuring praise. And my teacher was looking straight at me. I looked down, embarrassed. Couldn't he just praise that person without having me feel bad? Must he be so direct with his disappointment?

Really good... Nice..the 6 couples are done then. Practice this week, and I'll see you guys on Wednesday.

Great. I was out. He, as decided, had taken the 6 good couples.. wait a minute, did he say 6? Did that mean I waaa... I looked up, and was suddenly engulfed in a hug. Peeking over the shoulder of my partner hugging me, I saw smiles directed at me.

You are in baby! We are performing. Wooohooo! Told yaaaaaaaaaa!

Oh my god! I was in! I was in, babbeeyyyyyyyy! I was in. It was done. I would perform, and now with this tension of being selected gone, I could focus on the exam preparation. I could still swallow that piece of cake!

Not quite.

With the team being selected, my dance teacher asked us if we were competing. I avoided his gaze and admired the neighbouring trees instead. What green leaves!

Trees don't do much to make you inconspicuous though. He asked me about my participation directly. And I wished the Earth would just open up that very moment, and give me refuge.

I have an exam, I said, for work.

He wasn't impressed. He raised an eyebrow.

No time, I sputtered.

Time for what? You just have to go on stage, wait for the music to play, and dance. He looked at me, disapprovingly.

And suddenly, he had an idea.

Lets simulate the enviroment here. I'll play random music, and you all pick up the beat and start dancing. Let's do it!

Whaaaaaaaaat? I looked up at the sky, and almost expected to see God with a huge grin on his face, enjoying the scene on that hot terrace.

So I parterned up with a friend, and waited for the cue music. It was the cha cha.

I would love to elaborate on the cringe worthy dancing that followed, but I'm in no mood to thoroughly entertain you. So, the gist of the dance on random music with the correct style was as follows :-

• I couldn't dance on beat
• I couldn't follow the leads
• We wouldn't even be considered as competition

I'm still not sure how I ended up registering for the competition. It's a question that amuses me till date.

4 days before the competition and the performance, we were given our costumes for trials. The fabric was a skin hugging one, and also one that had a tendency to ride up. Plus, it was 2 inches way too short, in addition to being short.

Was this a sign? Was I not supposed to do this at all? Were these signals from those almighty people above, telling me to take a U turn? Or was it a test of patience and perseverance?

I was confused.

And the confusion wasn't about to end. The day before the competition, we realized, we being my partner and myself, that we couldn't co - ordinate a costume. We had no colours in common, and finally we decided to go - him all black, and myself in a red singlet and a black skirt. Those were dull costumes. I then called a friend, who I remembered had a nice blue costume. She told me she didn't have it with her,and redirected me to another friend who had a golden costume. She agreed to let me have it, and we decided to meet in the evening, so I could try it out, lest there be any problems with the fitting.

We didn't meet that evening. That meant I would be trying out the costume the day of the competition, and no alterations could be made if it didn't fit.

I slept that night, very exhausted.

Tomorrow would be some day. And maybe I would choke on that piece of cake.

I sat looking at the textured pattern on the wall. It was golden, with white flowers and leaves. My mother had reworked it four times, till she felt the texture maker dude had done it justice. It was such a soothing pattern, and especially under the three spotlights, it looked magnificent. My mother's a creative genius.

I looked outside the dining room windows, at the swing and the trees that surrounded it. The chimes hung in the window swayed gently, giving out pleasant and perfectly distanced albeit different notes. It was a cool night, and the white bougenville that creeped along the outside perimeter made a soft rustling noise.

I decided to move from the chair and sit in the window. I loved the fact that the window ledge was just broad enough for me to sit on. I just fit.

I scanned the entire frontyard. The rose bush. The hibiscus. The mogra. The magnolias.The palm. The other small potted plants I didn't know the names of. I'll call them the cute little flowers. The swing. And the other potted plants that hung from it's shed, with their leafy branches overflowing. The overhead awnings.

I sat there. I sat there, a little more.

A soft breeze sent a shiver through me, and I headed towards my room.

A floral blanket lay folded at the edge of my bed, and I wasted no time snuggling into it.

As I lay, waiting for sleep to claim me, I realised I was suddenly very calm. A big fat smile spread on my face, and I nestled in deeper.

Deep breaths ensued.....

Untitled

I leap a little everyday,
sometimes making the distance,
I confront a little everyday,
sometimes striking a balance

I trust a little everyday,
sometimes building the faith
I help a little everyday,
sometimes never too late

I look higher a little everyday,
sometimes seeing the sky,
I look deeper a little everyday,
sometimes liking what I find

I love a little everyday,
sometimes surging the heart
I dream a little everyday,
sometimes living it all

Of life and pain :)

There are two types of people in this world.

One, who believe in everything that is good.
And the second, who chose not to believe in everything that is good.

And they both suffer from pain.

What happens to the first kind is, they can still reflect on this pain with warmth, and smile through it. They stare the world in the face, and ask for more. They live without fear, and with a renewed vigour.

The second kind feel vulnerable. They live with apprehension, always afraid to take that plunge and make that leap. They fear there won't be anyone to catch, should they fall, never realizing that they could make the perfect landing.

The first breathe life, and the second exhale it.

The first kind stand, touch and look up. The second kind shirk, wallow, and cave in.

The first kind feel they are beyond the pain. And the second kind feel they cannot bear the pain.

And the funny thing is, both have already borne the pain.




*Inspired from a quote by Saint Bartholomew. It goes "Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain.But you have already borne the pain. what you have not done is feel you are beyond the pain." *

Drown your sorrows in chocolate...

I feel crappy often enough.

And I usually cry it out, or crib about it, or just get some friend to give me a big hug.

Or I sulk. Like today!

But then, there was this one thing I had forgotten I used to do.

Few years ago, an artistic friend and a docile and disbelievingly innocent friend of mine, along with me, were attempting to crack the toughest exam in India, the IIT-JEE. Ok, we weren't attempting, we were kidding ourselves with thoughts of.

So, we used to do miserably. I don't even have to say I'm not kidding.

This used to upset that innocent friend of mine. And I couldn't stand her being like that.

So, in a very chirpy voice, which I could carry off then, I used to tell her,

"Let's drown our sorrows in some nice chocolate icecream!!"

Today, about four years later, I sat feeling like a useless thing..person. I was a clumsy daughter, a never there friend, and recently I had started spitting fire.

And this upset me.

I guess she couldn't stand me being like that.

So, in a very chirpy voice, which she can carry off, she said,

"Let's drown our sorrows in some nice chocolate icecream!!"

I never knew she actually did.

The beauty of friendship is that your friends can remember these little things you used to say and do, and love you for the same. And when you feel like complete scum, they can make you feel like lovable scum. And they remind you, that you are important. Cheers to friendship!

I'm really sorry for not being the nicest person to have around. A big fat thank you to all of you for being tolerant and nice, nevertheless. I can only hope, I deserve it :)

Should stick to writing blog posts.

* wails *

For that small, flitting grain of time....

I wish I could write a mindset altering piece.
One that would make people believe in existence of good. One that would bring goosebumps. One that will sear irrational convictions to bring about a radiant flush within the mind. Write words that would evoke feelings of togetherness and harmony. Words that deftly yet subtly signify some meaning of existence and humanity, providing solace to troubled, questioning minds. Some father would keep it, hoping to inspire his child. Some mother would read it, just before she kissed goodnight. And maybe some young adult, would wipe away a tear, smiling wistfully as he acknowledged the truth, the one he knew deep inside and the one that I'd written. A naive young teenager, would use it to calm herself, when she felt that tussle between her mind and heart. And somewhere, few of the words would be inscribed, in rock, for the world to see, and feel..... forever.


I wish I could dance on a big stage.
A combination of ballet, salsa and contemporary. Throw in a jumpy jive too, while I'm at it.
It'd be an exhilarating, new choreography, fresh and meaningful. Wear a beautiful dress, one with tassels and a flare. A dress that would encircle the waist with each spin and then flare out. And silver stilettos. The dance, the music, the theme would thrill the audience, draw them in, and leave them with a feeling of having made the best investment of money. The critics would describe it as "Sensational" and aspiring dancers would emulate. And it's essence would be captivating, and used in creative forms, to entice... and so would erupt a feeling, that could only be described as indescribable.



I wish I could be whisked away.
To an exotic location. With exotic food.
And spend the evening dining with a man, who is head over heels in love with me.
We'd discuss literature, movies, life, him, me and all that with potential of making the experience unforgettable. Oh, and there would be flirting too. The witty, classy type. And the plain cheesy. He'd wear the perfect shade of white. And have the mischievous, lop-sided, dimpled grin that would melt my heart. And then he'd ask me to dance, and we'd end the evening with a rumba on Celine Dion's Falling into You.

I wish I could live a million lifetimes in each breath.
I wish each emotion could be wholly expressed.
I wish my words could be written into a book.

I wish I could strike a chord within your heart.
I wish you'd smile when you saw me laugh.
I wish my glow could light your way.


I wish I could live on in your dreams...
And be unforgettable...
If not for a lifetime, you'd at least remember me,
For that small, flitting grain of time

Manhood and Haha-ness

So there's a group of three guys and a girl hanging out one night. The usual gibbering lead to an interesting topic. The talk was regarding the killing of dolphins off the coast of Denmark, by young teens, as a sign of attaining maturity and proving their manhood.

The conversation went something like this.....

Girl: Sick man. That's just appalling.

Guy1, Guy2, Guy3: I know. Sick.

Long Pause.

Guy1: Sick.

Long pause.

Girl: Well, if they really want to prove their manhood, they should just get a girl pregnant. She gets pregnant, and there, you have cleared all doubts. Done.

Guy1: Actually!!

Guy2: Hmm..true!

Guy3: Really!


Pause.

Guy3(while looking up at the ceiling): But then the human rights activists would come running.....

Girl: I didn't mean forcefully dude!!

Uproarious laughter.


**The Dolphin killing in Denmark is probably true.

I can't understand why people make such a big deal out of their first love.

Is it not your last love that's important?

That's the one that lasts.

And I shall believe...

I'm an ardent believer of positive thinking. I believe in laughing loud.
I believe it when they say all ends well.
I believe it when they say every moment in life is worth cherishing.

I clap when the hero rescues the damsel from a cruel, disgusting looking villain. ( No, I don't believe he can save the world. I'm sensible that way).
And I believe in happily ever afters.

Hell, I'll believe any sappy-triumphant story you tell me. Be it of life, love, humanity, compassion, ambition.

And then I realize I don't live in a three hour motion picture.

I see that sometimes it's too late for all to be well.

And some moments in life are better best forgotten.

I see that heroes get sidelined by caste, creed, and money.

And a happily ever after... is like an adult version of the Santa Claus.

I see that mere resolve fails to make a heroic story. And deciding to save the world or whatever you hold in the highest esteem, doesn't happen by you saying, "Hold on, I'm coming!".

But you probably knew that already.

I, however, stubbornly refuse to give up my right of clapping, cheering, and saying, "Ha! I told you so!".. because you see...

Even if it's lie...
Say it will be alright...
And I shall believe....

A warm fuzzy memory

There is something inherently fond about memories. And something pleasantly unpredictable.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, beneath layers of information, lies this small little movie clip of your life, shot at some arbit point in time, which is capable of sending warm fuzziness throughout your entire being.

It makes you glow and smile, probably looking like an idiot to a third person, or even a second person, but who cares? Give me that tingly sentimental funny feeling anytime.

I feel simply awesome having all these pictures in my head. Those "Oh my god, did I just say that?", the "This is NOT happening to me", the "This is happening to ME? ME!", the "Yey! I Did it!", the "Why god Why", the "I love life!", the "Whee" moments, the "Hmpf" moments, the "Awww.." moments, and the.. sigh.

They come scented, they emote. They let us hold on to our past, while defining our future.
Snapshots of us, once upon a time, when we dared to do something spectacular, something remarkable..

Something that was worthy enough... of becoming a warm fuzzy memory.

Riddle me...

You riddle me with these questions,
Of what a future can hold,
Curious, my mind begins to wonder,
How these mysteries will finally unfold

You riddle me on my dreams,
And if I really can seize the day,
Defensive, my mind begins to go over,
The actions that have led me this way

You riddle me on my thoughts,
Like you can see the drama in which they play,
Befuddled, my mind begins to muse about,
The transparency I seem to portray

You riddle me with these questions,
Of what's said and done, the right and wrong,
And then I try to explain it to you,
And you smile, like you have known the answers all along

Unwritten...

I am unwritten....
Can't read my mind...
I'm undefined...

I'm just beginning...
The pen's in my hand...
Ending unplanned...

Staring at the blank page before you...
Open up the dirty window...
Let the sun illuminate the words...
That you can not find...

Reaching for something in the distance...
So close, you can almost taste it...
Release your inhibitions...

It is simply brilliant how some words can reach right into your heart, mind, or whatever that little something is that defines you, and touch you to the extent of giving you goosebumps.

Whenever I listen to this song, I imagine myself flying freely, unbound, and light as a feather.

High over the hustles of daily life, of inhuman expectations, of gigantic ambitions, that float as a cloud in my mind.

Way over the fear of failure, of loss, of unrequited love, of if and buts.

Somewhere, where reasons are not needed because everything falls into its nice little niche.

Feel the rain on your skin...
No one else can feel it for you...
Only you can let it in...
No one else..

It allows me to feel uninhibited, even when things are askew.

It makes me feel like dancing, makes me forget what happened yesterday, day before, last week, last month, last year.

It stops me from wondering about what might happen tomorrow, and how it could change things for me.

It allows me to savour that moment, that transient moment, moments, minute, time.

It speaks to me.
It boosts me.
And it puts a big fat smile on my face, raring to go laugh at the world, for the little jokes it plays.

It overwhelms me with an intangible feeling of confidence, of self respect, of power.

Of worth.

No one else..
can speak the words on your lips..
Drench yourself in words unspoken..
Live your life with arms wide open..

Today is..
where your books begins...

The rest is still unwritten...

And I keep writing...


*Unwritten is a song by Natasha Bedingfield.

A little something

There's always a little something inside of us.
A little something that keeps talking to us. That keeps evaluating us.
That judges, praises, punishes, pushes.

A little something that makes us unique.
A little something that sets us apart.
A little something that makes others love us.
A little something that allows a peek into us.

A little something made out of everyday experiences.
Of ephemeral emotions. Of passing thoughts. Of impacting words.

A little something strung by fleeting memories.
By secret dreams. By rising ambitions. By unflagging hope.

A little something fed from conflicting observations.
From self realisations. From worldly proverbs. From momentous principles.

A little something grown through revelation.
Through redemption. Through fortitude. Through incitement.

A little something that has survived hurt.
Disappointment. Ecstasy. Agony. Anxiety.

A little something that leads to great beginnings.
A little something that ensures a satisfying end.

A little something that grows bigger everyday.
But a little something which will always be little, in these many ways.

Release...

Release me of these feelings,
None that I understand,
This sadness and this longing,
An emptiness that keeps haunting

Release me from the tears,
that fall free from my eyes,
Release me of this illusion,
that one day you would be mine

Release me from these pangs,
that I hide behind a smile
Release me of this hollowness,
that suddenly awakes at night

Release me of your hold,
this power you seem to have,
Release me of this notion,
that if I go, you'd be sad

Release me of that day,
when I told you how I felt,
Release me of this regret,
the blow that I've been dealt

Release me of the urge,
to tell you what I feel,
Release me of thinking,
of a dream that can't be real

Release me from this self,
Release me from this phase,
Release me from this losing battle,
that I fight everyday

The Lil Mermaid

Utterly romantic, silly, naive,
the girl in her, spun and weaved,
magic in every dream she dreamt,
trusted her heart, wherever it went

Ways of the world, crooked and twisted,
Ruthless acts and words so pointed,
Neither she skipped nor danced nor laughed,
Neither she knew, how to mend a broken heart

She fell and bruised, and nights she cried,
Wished upon the stars, their light belied,
She tried to turn her heart to stone,
But so many feelings, would quickly unfold

Soon, a gentle calm she felt,
a little whisper, to her it said,
In Trials, Life isn't about giving up hope,
neither sitting nor standing, just staying afloat

Laugh louder when happy, and cry to ease the pain,
A truth sought effort, never goes in vain,
Companions you'll meet, while you trod along the way,
Some will travel with you, some just a day

Then the peace within you, will stand you against the storm,
it's not a miracle, and definitely not a lucky charm,
it's a gift to you, by a power so strong,
an inner self, an inner strength reborn


* I'm sure you are wondering.... why that title? ;) *

I love...

I love how you try to hide your yawn, when I'm talking too much...

I love that you think my hair is like my personality...

I love when you act crazy with me on the phone...

I love how you enjoy talking in baby language with me..

I love the way you get excited at the idea of us on a road trip...

I love the way you yell my name when you meet me...

I love how you always give me the bigger piece of chocolate...

I love how innocent you act when I catch you doing so...

I love how a lead character reminds you of me...

I love how you make it a point to tell me about the latest book you have read...

I love how you think my life is an adventure when the reality of it is otherwise...

I love how you make up new nicknames for me, because you don't want to call me what others do...

I love how you sleep on my swing, waiting for me to get home...

I love how you blame your camera for making me look fat...

I love how you say I'm family...

I love how you say your heart breaks when I'm not at a party...

I love the fact that you like me being shorter to you...

I love how you ask me where all I'm going to take you when you come into town...

I love how you tousle my hair when you feel proud of me..

I love how you crib when I say no to a plan...

I love how you call me to discuss a brilliant game of tennis...

I love how you flirt with me...

I love when you demand something to eat. And then apologise for it...

I love the fact that we wear the same size...

I love how you can come over, at anytime...

I love how you let me blame your phone, when the line disconnects...

I love how you make my favourite meal when you feel I've had a bad day...

I love how you call me to say my favourite movie is on...

I love how quiet you get when you think you have hurt me...

I love how you convince me of myself...

I love how angry you get when I feel I'm not worth it...

I love how you delete pictures of me I don't like...

I love how you make me laugh...

I love the fact that you want an autographed copy of my first book...

I love how you complete my sentences...

I love how happy you get when I praise a song you recommended...

I love how you smile when I give you a spontaneous hug...

I love how you send me a message first thing in the morning, when you miss my call at night...

I love how insatiably curious you get when I say, "I have to tell you something!"...

I love when you ask me if I'm awake, before you call at night...

I love how you keep changing the radio stations so I won't be bored while driving...

I love how you hold my hand while crossing...

I love the way you look at me when I'm involved in a movie...

I love how much thought you put into buying me a gift...

I love how you help me clean my room after a sleepover...

I love the fact that you pick up something for me when you go shopping...

I love how you console me when I feel heartbroken...

I love how you listen to my opinion while making an important decision...

I love how you worry that I don't get enough rest...


And

I love that you have read till the end.


*To the 'You' s who make each day special. This is my thank you*

Slipping away.....

Slipping away...
to revive a paradise lost...
Into the depth of my mind,
my labyrinth of thoughts

Slipping away...
to sleep in a bed of wishes...
Into a cocoon of warmth,
and pleasant little niches

Slipping away...
far from a reality that bites...
Into another sought,
of sunshine bright light

Slipping away....
I now realise who's me...
I travel my own path,
I wasn't born to follow thee

Of that can be.....

A thought a minute,
every day, every night,
Smiles and tears,
of happiness and fright

The silent longing,
The wish, the hoping
Light, then darkness
Rising and falling

Caught in a cage,
of the minds own,
This love, this want,
To have and to hold

And the eyes speak,
what wishes to be said,
The heart then flutters,
from the touch it lead

Such are these feelings,
powerful to be shown,
Yet daring to go beyond
Times barriers unknown

So set sail,
In a realm of dreams,
A journey then begins,
Of possibilities

Ache

A million stars sparkled in the sky.
I stood alone. I stared. Their beauty lost on me.

And a part of me ached.

Not the heart wrenching kind, when you cry till you have no tears left.
But the kind in which the tears stay in your eyes, unnoticed, unless someone looks closely.

The dull, soft kind.

The kind that stays with you for small periods of time. Everyday.

The kind you talk yourself out of, only to be reminded once before you sleep.
And once when you wake up.

The kind that you smile through, so no one thinks you are weak.
So you don't think you are weak.

The kind that makes you wish you could turn back time, take back words, and change your feelings.

The kind that proves irony.

The kind that makes every moment enjoyed, larger than life, yet fleeting.

The kind that lets you breathe, but never that deep.

But it is also....

The kind that makes you accept.

The kind that empowers in the strangest of ways.

The kind that makes you fearless even while losing the battle.

The kind that makes you appreciate the beauty of honesty.

The kind that shows you the power of love.

The kind that makes you believe in a better tomorrow simply because you lived truly.....your today.