You And Me – How Can You Forget


What We Were To Each Other?

never mind. it is a rhetorical question anyway.

Rant alert. Rambling thoughts.

We had different needs, our lives were too separate. Too far away. And you kept stretching the distance like cheese from the pizza.

We were pretty much on the opposite side of everything but we met, love happened, or so I thought. So many things feel like love and we are so often and so easily fooled. I just wanted a shelter, a sustenance, while you were looking for haute cuisine and a pleasant home. ASnd then one day you fell out of whatever it was you felt, dusted off, got up and walked away. we meant different things to each other. our needs were different.

I lost myself in words and images I conjured in my mind, forever torn between the lover as you were and the lover I had created in my head and in that process somewhere I lost you. I noticed the slow decline from being everything to being no one. Saw every single act of dismissal but I stayed. I wanted to. Just as i wanted to believe everything you said.

It is what it is. You, my dear, are too much to forget.

I will turn fifty in a few years. More than half my life is over. I want to  travel before my stressed out body gives away. I want to go back to places I imagined us going to. I want your memory. I want to take you there with me. Carry you in my heart. I also want to stop being a sad, sorry fuck that I am and be what I would have been if we were together.

A time to shed what’s not me. Time to move on, move away from people who pretend to care and understand but actually wish me dead. Tough luck. I wasn’t born to be ruled by others. If some people did, it is because I allowed or because I was caught in the web of circumstances beyond my control.

While I am ranting, let me also say that natal homes are most often not the safe sanctuary one thinks they are. This thought is pressing hard on my jugular.

Gratitude too is a form of love. I am grateful for your presence , imaginary or otherwise. Grateful for love, for being the wind beneath my wings. Somewhere you changed direction and I plunged into nothingness, picked myself again and now I am drifting aimlessly. My wings are tired and I can not even fold them and rest for a while.

I rant too much. Blame it on the Hormones. Times are a changing and your memory, it comes at most impossible times. Peri-menopause does that. It screws up your mind and body. I was sure I was going crazy, unable to decipher what was causing the hot flushes, night sweats, sleeplessness, mood swings, anxiety attacks, meltdowns, palpitations and not to forget the intense desire to strip off all my clothes at any given time… Was it the aftermath of losing you or were the hormones going wacko. Jeez, it is hard to go through a heartbreak when you are dealing with midlife crisis. Cold showers, by the way, came handy in both cases but it is still too much to deal.

I would reach for anything within reach that would comfort me. Alcohol, comfort food esp sweets, books, cigarettes.. anything that would cocoon me and keep me safe from the world that had suddenly become so unbearable. But now, I am going to get my sexy mojo back by turning menopause into menopower and I will make the memories of love to make me strong. Love that I felt for you. I am going to fill that You-shaped hole in me with something good and I will wait.

My love for you was wild and reckless, strong and rebellious, painful and desperate, untamed and hungry, It was needy. I was needy. I was hungry. and for me even the less was more. You were needy too but our needs were different as i said earlier. You fed me love with your fingers and then one day you left, and now I know what it is to starve. But you know what, love stays longer, endures more. Lust doesn’t. It doesn’t give anything except a momentary high.

“Loving you was like going to war. I never came back the same.” ~ warsan shire

but I will take those wounds any day.

Seeing you in the flesh, touching you, kissing your mouth, letting you kiss my mouth, surrendering to love, to lust, to the moment that brought us together was the bravest thing I ever attempted and the weakest I ever felt and now my body is like a haunted house that is never owned. A house that is sometimes lived in but mostly abandoned. It is an archive of fingerprints and scars that throb. It is filled with a lingering odour of love, sex and spices.

I am walking through a fog but I trust my instincts and I will make it through the frenzy of emotional whirlpools I am facing now.

If you think this post is not going anywhere, it is true. It is a floe, forever drifting like me.

My boy thinks I need to “chill”, that old age crept on me long ago and I am living in denial. My foot. what does he know.

So I will put a frozen teabag in my vagina (before you get ideas, it is for medical purposes. Sorry to disappoint.), have a hot mug of coffee or  go indulge in the finest wine or anything I fancy from a brain hemorrhage shot to a manga, get a short spunky hair cut that doesn’t need too much looking after.. (going bald is still a recurring thought), eat healthy while keeping my cravings satisfied, change the wardrobe (bring in some colour), and most importantly NOT GIVE A FUCK. Till now I was only writing and not believing but I guess it is time to change that.

Hormones can rage, your ever-present missingness can run havoc, financial trickling can continue, and people can snoop and stalk my blog for whatever they are looking for(you know who you are and I know it too) because I am going to live my life as I want. I am done with naysayers and f*tards that drained me of belief in myself. Go find your entertainment elsewhere.

Of course i miss you and I love you. Trust me, you do not want to feel what I feel. It is not easy task to go from halo to a broomstick in a jiffy. Don’t even try. Just understand.

this will keep me on a roller coaster

But

I will rock the change. I will flow.

And

I hope one day

you will find yourself and in turn find me.

If only
one fingertip
of a touch
could make
you real.
If Only ….

till then….

I will just come here and vent.

Better out than in.

Good things are happening in my writing world . Will share soon. 🙂

Don’t need no memories hangin’ round


I want to offload. Offload all the clutter from my head. Offload the memories. Who wants to remember  anyway?  Spit, gargle, scrub, wash .. I did everything to clean the scars that my life got when it touched yours but the scars settled in the corridors full of memories won’t fade. They take monstrous shapes and explode inside my head. Isolated snippets that becomes larger than life , uglier, gruesome as they flash past inside my head like lightning.  Wounds that cut themselves and come alive in flesh and blood only to drag me down the past I want to run away from. There is no healing with memories lurking inside oneself. They appear out of nothing, damage and vanish. Just like that. 

What wouldn’t I give to forget these memories, wipe them off. I am tired of  tossing and turning each night, I want to get back my sleep? I would give it all up even if it means losing the good memories from another time , another place , of some other people. Yes, I would, if it means I won’t have to remember all the crap that scalds my inner, which gags and chocks my heart.

With my life going the way it, the things I have known and those I come to know whether I want it or not, the images that I am unable to shake however I may try, the mental trauma and heartache that wears me out on daily basis, the words that resonate inside my head however I may try to shut them up, the good memories too are slowly turning rancid.

Actually there isn’t anything good about your memories to be frank.  They are nothing but poison ivy clinging to my brain and sapping life out of me.  In fact I shouldn’t have let you in.  I pay the price with loss of face, faith and everything. I left the house that once I called home ( I wonder why coz it was never my home ) but the memories tagged along. I remember it all. Every bit of it. And that is the part I hate most.  You encroached my space then and  won’t let me have it now. 

I want to  gladly clear it all.  Give up , the good, the bad, the ugly.  Just don’t need no memories hangin’ round. What am I going to do with memories? Am done with sob story memoirs. I don’t wish to dig up the graves. Am done with all that. Am done with wanting to remember. Done with you. Please Leave. I do not need a fucking rotting fungal infested tumor of memories in my brain that is You. 

I want my mind spot clean.  I want space for new beginnings to flourish. I want  peace.  I do not want an inner tumult to wreak havoc in my outer world. I don’t want memories of old hurt, anger, loss, love anything  influencing my judgement and making me read the signals incorrectly. 

So you ask,  what about “happy memories” ? Memories that warm you on winter nights and give you company in loneliness? The beautiful sunsets and the walks in pathless woods?  Well, there is nothing happy about them, they hurt big time. These attention seeking narcissists. They bring a sense of loss, a void. Some people may have them, I am not denying that but for me , I can do without them. This cocktail of bitter-sweet nostalgia and pain. I don’t wish to go on vacillating between past and present with the noose of memories tightening on my neck. The events that were , were happy , full of warmth but as memories I can do without them. I will have many sunsets and many such walks in woods in present to fill the empty spaces.

I want to “die to the past” and ” live to the present”. 

Maybe I will find a stability later sometime in life to not let mind take over but right now, Oh man! I need an escape route.  

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;

One need not be a house;

The brain has corridors surpassing

Material place.

~Emily Dickinson, “Time and Eternity”