Ticking bombs

I want to see how her story unfold. One day, life will make her pray, that’s when she dies. She will be one among us from then on. Right now, she is in a coma, unable to wake up, living a fictional world inside her head, living in the present, without the burden of the past. May she wake up when the time demands. We are waiting for her arrival; we will be arranging a grand reception for her. When will she pray, either she faces dangers or in peril, that’s the first, the second is she achieves everything she desires, and have nothing else to do, and she prays to God, because she is old, copying everyone who gets old. What do I want? I prefer the second, why? What good is the movie, if climax is horrible. Then it will be too late for her to correct her mistakes, the moment when she understands what she has done, how meaningless her life has been, the painful last days of her life, so miserable.

The problem with them her or whoever it is, even though they are suffering, they are not changing. Once they recover, they move back to their past behavior, stabbing people from behind. If they need change, they must pray, that means coming my way, asking for forgiveness, not just me, to everyone who they were unfair with. And they think they are reigning over me, when the reality is different. They are just ticking bombs waiting to explode, if they didn’t, their karmic patterns will follow them to their next life and stick them right into their ass without even them knowing.

Library

Some people think keeping me out of library will keep me away from the love of books. But I don’t want to have an entire library to myself. I can’t hope to read every book written in this world. I paint often, but I don’t use the whole set of brushes, just a few of them. I want to travel, but that doesn’t mean I want to know every nook and corner of this world, just a temporary stay somewhere far from home and come back when I misses the home. But some people are opposite to this without understanding the depth of what they are saying without thinking. No matter how far you go, there will come a point you miss the home, you can’t roam forever. When it comes to books, I used to finish one to two books per week, but I stopped, I knew what I was aiming was impossible, I just opted for a small bookshelf instead for the whole library. Now I don’t want to read new books very often, I want to go back to my favorite ones and read them again.

Recovering

Back when in my academic years, I didn’t understand many terms my friends used. But now I do, they were so dirty. And I was too clean. I asked none about what actually they meant, I had the slightest idea, but I was so busy in other things, I loved music, I had no time, now I understand they weren’t so clean. This is how I grown up, had help from none, had to discover all by myself. When the first anomaly happened, I thought I was sick, then I forgot about it, and one day I blew the rocket. Still, nothing’s changed, but that’s what made me who I’m today, it trained me to think. Maybe people think I’m too extreme, because I’m so raw, I don’t know how others work, everything I did, I did according to what I felt right. And that’s how I fell, but I’m recovering from the damage, spreading my wings, to fly once again.

Slow ride

My situation asks me to rush, but I like this going slow. There is something about being an artist, I don’t need loads of cash, just enough. And in return I get to live my life in peace. Look at the things I have now, wind, music, what else do I need? Money, after a certain limit is just numbers, I even planned to retire after some time, so much early than my fellow human beings. What if I don’t have much time left, what if the world is about to end in three days, would any of it matter? Sometimes, I think, home schooling was better in my life, why spend twenty-five years of our precious life learning things others found out, when we can find our life purpose and knowledge on our own. Looking back, I don’t remember much from my school life, I’m still the same, raw.

Union

I thought there was something broken inside me, something that need fixing, but what need fixing was my soul. He is broken, and he is not willing to cooperate until he sees justice for what happened to us. Now, we have begun to crawl out of the ditch we have fallen into, and I can see why it wasn’t happening. We saw hell together, and they guided us back for we are not supposed to be there. So, we came back, broken. We asked for hell for we know heaven won’t accommodate us for such deaths. We are here, fighting our way back, but changed, tears change people. Now, we are dreaming for that union once we had. A dream unfulfilled. I don’t know when that moment happens, but we are waiting, to put the past behind, to wake up together.

If there was something between us, would I have been alright? The only thing that’s aching me was what happened to me physically, it’s keeping me in a circle. Otherwise, for what reason, I would even think about her. I don’t know a single quality of her, never had a conversation, never properly heard her voice, never seen properly, not a good memory only charred remains of mine, and I’m looking at them now. They tried to force her on me when I was repeatedly implying a no. Then it became a suffocation for me until that son of a bitch came and sat near me. A fox, he thinks of himself, but he is nothing short of a coward, a disgrace. He must be her dad or I don’t know what to call him. He is well suited for the word I’m not telling.

Until I return

I cried, not exactly me, before leaving here, from morning to evening for days. All those abuses, I feel sad for him, not had a happy memory in his life. I didn’t know why he was crying, now I know, he was preparing to leave, leaving everything behind. He believed he was hated, and no one corrected him. He was kind, and everyone walked over him, but he signed out in peace, deep inside he knew it wasn’t his fault. His Karma was clean, too clean. Now, he is reigning in hell, you would ask why hell? It wasn’t an ordinary death; the weight was too much for him to carry. That’s why I’m here. I know he will keep my place in balance until I return.

Trying at horror - Would you believe?

Someone is waiting for me, circling me, I can hear her footsteps (Anklets).  Actually, she woke me up and now she is outside or some chill is near my foot, I don’t know why it’s so cold. I thought these were the product of someone’s imagination, but no. These things are real. This is not my first encounter with its kind, but that felt like a dream, but now it’s live. I can hear it right now.

Those anklets, I’m hearing, at first, I thought someone is trying to play with me, any recorded sound playing in a loop, but it’s different, there is something I noticed. If I focus on the sound, one minute it’s near me, and the next moment it is somewhere far from me. Things are getting weird here. Hey, if you are reading this, please don’t frighten me (I was talking to that lady who is supposed to wear a white saree while pacing back and forth). I don’t know what happened after I wrote this, it has been two days, and nights are silent.

Memories

I’m in the mood to write, with this background music, it feels so good. But no words can explain somethings about how it used to be. Those days when my pets used to sleep in my lap, gave me company while I was studying. That non-stop talking with your sibling. But now it’s all memories. But everything collapsed when aliens started messing with our brains. They made us fight each other, now I’m sitting with just those memories, and I look at my pets whether to pet them or not.

It was full of life, laughter, even the rain was magical. Now in that same home, with the same people, I don’t feel safe. My pets made my life beautiful, now I just stare at them from distance, sometimes I blink my eyes and they do the same in return. My life was beautiful.

It was just a fire.

I never questioned anything, I was simply praying, and everything else, God took care of. But the world labelled everything I do, If I simply draw a fire in my iPad, then it is suddenly about her when I never even thought of her, and when I looked into the picture years after, there I saw her. I never spent a minute thinking about her, the only thing I did was pray, and the things I wrote was supposed to end up in the trash, but suddenly from somewhere I got this idea not to throw it away. Reading it anyone will think that I’m holding some kind of grudge against her, but the fact was never. I was just developing my skills, but she was never in my mind. If God was never there, my story would have been non-existent and everything that happened to me still be inside some corner of my mind. When I was mute, God made me talk, gave me clarity about what happened.