Thursday, 20 October 2011

Raina

Mere Naina se dekh zara, tujhe har zareh mai roshni dikh jayegi magar mere naina se woh raina na dekhna woh aakh bhar layegi.




In this era we live, relationships and emotions have become more fragmented than ever. Masked men roam about in each little element yet you come across those who unmask. People like you and I, will keep on giving in love in a blank cheque and never learn that people are more cynical than they seem. However, it’s never the end of the world until the sigh of suffocation doesn’t rise above the one that Bob Marley says in one of his writings . 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 up the same way each night and out cry the emotion till it’s over. I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own pessimism. When there’s a out rage of that emotion and rage that arises, it’s best to forgive and love back like friends. Friendship mends all wounds, it gives a little smile and lessens tears, gives rise to new hope that no matter what, even if things fall apart there’ll all be friends and that is something nobody can take away ; that happiness of being. The happiness of being is nothing, it differs from all we have ever seen and ever done. The emotion travels to far land and doesn’t come too often.
Love is like a stab in the back, it hurts and leaves u astonished. The only thing that keeps the that person alive is the respect you build up gradually. That ‘respect’ will be a book mark in the pages between. Being with his pictures I feel a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm  used to that frozen pain and my very existence are one to dissolve .
The pain is an anchor, mooring me here. A sad fact, about life is that you see the very things you'll never adapt to coming toward you on the horizon. You see them as the problems they are, you worry like hell about them, you make provisions, take precautions, fashion adjustments; you tell yourself you'll have to change your way of doing things. Only you don't. You can't. Somehow it's already too late. And maybe it's even worse than that: maybe the thing you see coming from far away is not the real thing, the thing that scares you, but its aftermath. And what you've feared will happen has already taken place. This is similar in spirit to the realization that all the great new advances of medical science will have no benefit for us at all, thought we cheer them on, hope a vaccine might be ready in time, think things could still get better. Only it's too late there too. And in that very way our life gets over before we know it. We miss it. And like the poet said: The ways we miss our lives are life.”
 Only I will remain.I will stand by you in the toughest of time, like the sky by it’s sea, you’ll never face despair in my presence I promise. The rage I have, will dissolve in the lake of going away. Years to come, I will stand there, where I used to stand with you. By you and call it friendship or humanity, I will do it no matter how much you avoid your being and my being. I will splatter happiness over you and throw u in it as much as I can and if u shall resist, I’ll pull you back in place.
Hear me out, I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love but there are times where I’m nothing but a person in there. I hope not to do that again, to get attached, it’s a sin. I know !
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken into more than the fatal ways of this earth. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully in little luxurious covers; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the a pretty old shoe box of your selfishness. But in that box, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
 But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there.Nevertheless, There are people in the world, who are just wrong, and then there are the masses of population that are right, or at the very least they lie in the veil of between. I on the other hand, do not belong to any group. I don’t exist. It’s not that I don’t have substance; I have a body like everyone else. I can feel the fire when it burns against my pinkish skin, the rain when it caresses my face and the breeze as it fingers my hair. I have all the senses that other people do. I am just empty, inside. And then there are always clever people about to promise you that everything will be all right if only you put yourself out a bit... And you get carried away, you suffer so much from the things that exist that you ask for what can't ever exist. Now look at me, I was well away dreaming like a fool and seeing visions of a nice friendly life on good terms with everybody, and off I went, up into the clouds. And when you fall back into the mud it hurts a lot. No! None of it was true, none of those things we thought we could see existed at all. All that was really there was still more misery-- oh yes! as much of that as you like-- and bullets into the bargain! Someties, all u want is to be loved and love back.
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. I was lonely. I felt it deeply and permanently, that this state of being on my own might never disappear. But I welcomed the lonliness, which had everything to do with being anonymous. I realize full well how hard it must be to go on living alone in a place from which someone has left you, but there is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for. Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to sleep through it. But even if you go to the ends & edges of the earth, you won't be able to escape it. Still, you have to go there- to the edge of the world. There's something you can't do unless you get there, maybe ! ?



In true sense - It's hard to tell the difference between the actuality and granted relations, between my love and yours. Between reality and the workings of the heart.

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