My Lasts

I walked silently in the little area of my room, wondering about the shoes I should wear to graduation dinner at Sheraton Towers & Suites. Just then, I came across a pair of black flamanco block bellies; riddled memories came back and forth in just a moment. The desperation to let anyone know the reason for ur indifference is when, there's a proximity of love, not in it nor without it . I have stood in it's proximity for the longest season I can remember where minutes shall change to years; I stand there in the hope of tomorrow to be a warm summer morning.Much of it has caused me to write like Haruki Murakami & other indian fiction writers but, I posses a promise in mine. I have grown distant enough to remember nothing in less than 30-40 seconds, yet I shall try.
Although the scenes from last few nights, fall in places like jigsaw peices and lay unsettled, I shall draw curtains of silence for a while. When I look at my ring finger, the black band on it marks my absence to singularity but somehow, today, the ring felt uncomfortable & wrong on my left ring finger.I felt an absurd desperation for silence & isolation yet a mood to scream. I carried a sombre mood the entire day, but one particular memory came flooding back - Longing. The time, however,an impending release had compelled me to stay back. My mood seeped down to those depths of depression, where I steped into a steep valley & asked the almighty of it's height. Right, in the cubicle of my mind's blurred memory, sat a longing for friends, love and social culture. I have always been the isolated thiving character to live as cheerfully as possible but somewhere inside patterns of my analysing power, I fail to pretend more. Therefore, I'm going to do what I love the most- Read & write. The emotion 'proximity of love and not love' is nothing but a deeper effect of injury where I quote "Sometimes the heart and mind have plebisites upon the fact that who is fairer than the other, in between there's a piece called mind- absoutely confused. These fragments peirce through the emotion and tear apart those walls. There are 2 banks of the river but water flows on both sides so the middle is the mind and that's where is the void. Isolation is sometimes the only right thing to do and maybe I shall . Sometimes throwing urself in the claws of work,study and other parts where there's no love, will help heal those cuts. Those, that formed decades ago- My Lasts."
Despite my stoic belief that in Love, everything falls apart. My stark memories and practical analysing powers force me to believe the fact that it's the only thing in the world that will keep me happy, even though I haven't come across one single happy -in-love couple. The tiniest tinge of tears hasn't stopped for a while, what's this all about ?
I sometime get stuck in the hooror of wonders i.e. why does the sorrowful shadow follow me .No matter how hard but these tears don’t seem to stop for a millisecond, they have to fall as if they were rain after a drought. How hard could it be?   it’s tougher  than  expression  , it’s tiring than the last breath of suffocation , it’s harder to even explain now ….why is this haunting me time and again ? Why is it making me fall apart again? Why is that ’someone’ so Merciless?Sometimes, untold stories are best kept, though the color, fragrance and time fade away but the effect still holds strong in its place.I have forgotten what’s called being truly happy, I have forgotten about the happiness in me. ‘Somebody’ stole it and I could never find it ever again. Everyday I’m haunted to bits by these little monsters and all I can say is, I have nothing to say …that ‘somebody’ has grown so mighty in this era that he renders me speechless. But life still continues …maybe tonight is another night where the mood was drowned in syrup of despair and a crackle of ‘somebody’s doing’.

“ Love is much like a Wild Rose , beautiful and calm, ready to draw blood in it’s defense “

Now,Being with them I feel a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it. It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one.
The pain is an anchor, mooring me here.Even though love cannot save u from ur fate; to wither and decay, decopose and disintrigrate; for pain and salvation only time seperates. I didn't think I was in a morbid mood, but it appears I am. My mind goes round and round trying to figure things out, but I always come back to the same two things: Loneliness and Death. Life ends before we figure anything out, most importantly how not to be lonely. Solitude is fine. But feeling like you have no one to love - abject lonliness - is not alright.Even though I thought, to love is to be vunerable but To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.Where there's a longing for that 'somebody' -Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too.

The trail of my subsequent thoughts will continue to get re-editied as more people cut throught their way. There's been Trial & error and Much longing for love. Now I shall just isolate myself and throw myself in the claws of life , for once.