Sunless Rooms

Will I, one day, with tentative hands, find the resolve To draw aside my heavy black drapes

And let the sunlight in again?
Will guilt molest my heart for the need or the deed?

For not retracting those hands that drew the drapes aside? 
Seeing it as I might, after a month of Sundays,

Will I shield my eyes from it, 

Or teach myself to behold it anew? 
That sunlight, I wonder, if it will swallow up the darkness

Or merely disguise it in golden splendor? 
There are places, strange places, 

Where the sun forgets to shine every once in a while,

Where sunlight can’t hide every blotch of darkness. 

Those places, those sunless rooms, exist inside me.

Irrational Irony, Inexplicable Indifference & Inevitable Idiosyncrasy : Ingredients of Life

You’re in a crowd, but you’re alone. You explain, but that just makes things harder to understand than they initially were. You speak, but you can’t be heard, or you’re not listened to. When you’re silent, everyone hears. When you’re down, no one wants to help you up, but when you’re up, everyone wants to drag you down. They tell you to hold on when you’re trying to let go. They tell you to let go when you’re trying to hold on. You’re dying while you’re living, and living while you’re dying.

Life is pervaded by the essence of irrational irony.

You talk to a person present in the flesh and you’re ignored. You talk to your “wall” on a social media platform and people who aren’t well-enough acquainted with you connect the dots of your untold emotions. You are forced to wear a smile that conceals the scars lest someone should see them and question your sanity or gloat over your probable insanity. You are forced to line your eyes with kohl to camouflage the deed all the midnight tears have done, because people seem to notice, but won’t seem to understand. You love someone, but your love to them is no more than the earth they trample underfoot.

Life is garnished with the oil of inexplicable indifference.

You are told by people that you will be understood, but ultimately, you end up being either not understood or misunderstood. You are told to stay put by someone who persistently tries to push you off balance when you’re like a feather amidst an air current. You choose your path and traverse it only to realize you’ve been treading the wrong way all this while. You gain something only to realize it won’t last forever, but you lose something and realize that it will be lost forever, like a drop in a boundless ocean.

Life is sprinkled with a dash of inevitable idiosyncrasy.

But life has to go on through it all, doesn’t it? And it does…

You know you’re not losing life’s battle, you’re just fighting your way up from the bottom.

Life is crowned with the indomitable spirit that surmounts the issues so insurmountable.

Battlefield of Emotions

Contrary emotions are like sworn nemeses in the medieval epoch. They find a place that can cater well to their need of habitation and they proceed to pretentiously coexist peacefully and convincingly, but as time goes by, their true intent to overtake the kingdom and overthrow the ruler is made manifest, and that is precisely how the war of emotions kicks off.

Hatred enters the battlefield armed with his weapon of poison, hurt with his arrows, indifference with his shield and insult with its club. Only love enters unarmed, sans even a single means of defense.

In course of combat, love is wounded mortally- struck, impaled and blown, temporarily weakened and incapacitated, but not enough to give up the fight. It allows itself to be victimized until the assailing foes themselves grow weary of the fight and retreat in defeat.

Love, though wounded, triumphs in sweet victory and basks in humble glory. It restores and rejuvenates itself and the Kingdom of the Heart that was subject to much attrition.

Love neither is a fighter nor a killer, but a conqueror. It is its own weapon- a weapon that eliminates what breaks and restores what has been broken.

Memories

They tell me not to look back on the past, but how can I abide by that when the past is just another analogue for “storehouse of all my memories”?

Memories. Those immortal things that will never leave you even if your shadow does.

Some people have them in pictures, some in scripts and others like me in the heart and mind.

For me, there are many in my treasure chest that involve the same person being the cause of my happiness and my smile and then (surprisingly) my sadness and my tears.

Memories can be suppressed, never erased. Just because those heartrending moments are over, long gone perchance, doesn’t imply that there aren’t days when it all comes rushing back.

Sometimes I just find myself alone, but in the company of my thoughts that soon lead me down memory lane where I find the eye of my mind making me oblivious to the sights before me in reality.

Some are so bittersweet that they have left an indelible mark on me, promising a smile complemented by tears or maybe just a blank stare and brimming eyes or in extreme cases grinning with apparently no reason.

But if there’s something I’ve learned from memories, it’s this: they aren’t painful reminders, they were priceless lessons.

If something is etched in my memory for a lengthy period of time, it’s either worth remembering, or it’s remembered or resurrected for a reason.

Remedies for Healing a Hurt Heart

There is that one feeling that cuts deeper than a razor-sharp scalpel- hurt. Hurt is a consequence of love- love that you gave but never received in the way you hoped to. There are ways of coping with the pain inflicted by love. These are my self-discovered therapeutic remedies to refrain from imploding or exploding, or in extreme cases, both…

  • Let your mouth speak for your heart

If talking to someone aids you to express your love, it will also serve you well to express your hurt. No matter how deranged this may sound, talking to yourself or an inanimate object is also remedial. But if you’re bent on speaking to a mortal in the flesh, select that person with as much care and caution you would reinforce while selecting your wedding gown. Never seek sympathy, rather, seek counsel, warmth and understanding.

  • Let your eyes water and be your own comforter

Crying is a means of purging oneself of the debris of accumulated hurt. Doing it in solitude is most preferential to me because when I’m hurt, I feel like I am my own comforter and that my own heart understands the reason behind my tears better than anyone else would. Somewhere I read that “clouds burst when they can’t withhold their contents any longer, and so it is with us.”

  • Allow time to be your doctor

Just like a physical wound requires time and treatment to heal, so does an emotional one. Never pick at a scar that has closed after much ado. But remember that time doesn’t relieve you of the weight you are bearing. It just accustoms you to carrying it.

  • Learn to accept

Once Doctor Time has accomplished his job, you will be in the phase of accepting your altered state of emotional affairs. Never expect to be skyrocketed to Planet Euphoria in no time. Recovering from the sting of heartbreak is equable with recovering from a malady. Remember that your heart might still be fragile and vulnerable, so do not dive headfirst (or heart-first without using your head) into the pool of pleasure because you aren’t going to know whether it will suck you in and spit you out in a mortifying condition or cause you to hit the solid bottom. Accept what has been and hope in what is yet to be.

  • Move ahead and move on

Never let the past remind you that you were weak and broken. Rather, let it be a reminder that you fought that interior battle and have emerged triumphantly. The past is irreversible and unchangeable, so leave it be. Let the past follow you, but let the present live in you as you live in it, and let the future lead you. Move ahead and move on. Hurt can last only as long as you allow it to.

A Drop of Strength in an Ocean of Weakness

I left myself wide open again and now I’m in a million pieces, but does that make a difference? After all, I wasn’t even whole to start with. Sometimes I feel I keep my heart in all the wrong places.

I spill all my contents to people and finally I’m left empty. I then run back to them to have them fill me again. I am then filled, but only with hurt the weight of lead.

In the face of all these emotional calamities, I have indeed lamented, cried and complained, but I have also learned that love and strength are tested and refined in situations as these.

I could never boast of strength if I hadn’t any weaknesses to overcome and I could not fortify my love had I not met with insult and coldness from the people that I held dear.

It does take something to bare your heart and mind to someone, but I did that anyway. Sometimes I was consoled, sometimes I returned more out of shape than I was to begin with.

Those moments I might have cursed, but to be honest, I was blessed with them, for in my weaknesses, I discovered my strengths, so I wouldn’t trade those happenings for anything under the sun. All those moments brought me closer to myself and to the people I cherish.

It’s like being the sole survivor of a tempest- battered and shattered, but still a survivor with a story worth telling.

If I didn’t know I was weak, I could never have known I was strong.

So, to everyone who has ever broken me, thank you. You taught me to repair myself and to give my love and my feelings a voice. So, feel satisfied for every stone you’ve hurled at me. Not one went in vain.

Separation

One thought that has been lingering in my mind like a nimbus cloud over the earth: Do some people walk into your life just to walk out of it so suddenly?

There comes a point in a close-knit relationship when the person becomes imperative to your existence- where he/she becomes an indispensable part of you, without which, your wholeness would just be a fantasy.

The thought of separation is as dismal as the deed itself.

Having to do without someone who means the world to you is like having to do without a limb. It’s a sort of emotional paralysis, goodness knows whether benign or chronic.

There are so many metaphorical comparisons that can be drawn.

For instance, it’s like a tramp with one single lucky cent that he holds dear. When it’s snatched from him, he sinks into despair, not knowing what to do in the near future.

And the worst part of it is when they have a choice between staying and leaving, and they settle on the latter. No matter the sincerity of your pleas to remain, they choose to go their own separate way.

That parting moment is like watching the only light in your life slowly recede until you can see it no longer and you’re abandoned in an impenetrable darkness.

Imagine a piece of your heart tearing itself away. That’s what it’ll feel like.

That’s the pain of separation.