Sometimes we lose to expectations and then we fall hard, on
our face. We deny it, we scream and we look for unseen closure. Thinking of all
our hard work, our prayers and our expectations, all failed to nothing. We
cheat ourselves. We act. We pretend. Because we know, deep down, that we never
really worked hard enough, we lacked. We prayed, yes. We kept expectations
higher than necessary, yes. But we failed so we pretend.
We crumble under our own expectations and the carry the
weight of those hopes that others have from us. We hide from the truth and the
acceptance of our faults. And so we blame. We blame it on every possible
option. We break, inside. We doubt and we lose joy. In the end we just sag;
unable to carry the weight anymore, of the acceptance and expectations and
She lay there, among a cascade of sheets, hands
behind her head and ankle carelessly crossed; Days old red nail-polish chipping
off. The fan whirs above too loud for
the quiet that surrounds her, the lights too harsh for her seemingly serene
moments, the atmosphere to formal for her casual posture. She sits in a place
too unlike herself… too formal. Her mind is another place to be, nothing like
her posture or the décor around; it’s mayhem of thoughts, a turmoil of ideas
replaced every moment, flipping out of grasp, exploding volcanoes of colors,
rainbows of events, chaos of recollection. Such serene moments.
A simple emotion to show that you care and understand, or a
complex mode, that envelops you inside itself, making it unmanageable to
Love, they say you never plan of falling for it, it just happens. Like
meant-to-be’s. Like miracles?
Love, they say it gives you infinite happiness. Just like
taking you over the moon and your frequent visits to cloud nine. Or the feeling
when your feet don’t stay on the ground.
I think I know love. I think I understand. Why wouldn't I?
I have seen it happen, I have felt it. I know the gusto of
it, I know it’s craze.
It’s blissful. It’s petty.
It’s ecstatic. It’s contagious.
It’s the serenity of living in a dream. It’s the beauty of
being awake in that very dream.
It’s the dream of reality.
Why wouldn't I know love? Why wouldn't I feel it? It’s there
around me. It’s not a lover’s kiss for me; it’s my sister’s peck, my friends’
smiles. The laughter and love in all those eyes that are around me. The sparkle
and the sheen. I know love and that’s love.
When you close your eyes there are two
things you envision. Initially it’s one; as soon as you close your eyes you
imagine before you scenes from your imagination, thoughts of the past and
expectations and dream for the future. But focusing a little you’ll see a
reality, the actual darkness of your closed eye lids, focus without opening
them, it velvety and swirly and deep…endless. Infinite? Focus too much and you
lose it as you pry open your eyes. Balance your concentration and you can watch
it for hours that are really minutes, which are really just seconds. Because in
a moment the strain of the focus will make you open your eyes.
And that my friends, is life. There are our
dreams and aims and then there is reality which is endless the more you go into
it the more it turns in to a labyrinth. And just when you are about to get a
grasp of it you are stirred up by karma, which either gives you your dreams, or