The whereabouts of Me

The provocative whereabouts of your position in people's lives. "Where do you stand in your loved ones' lives?"
You feel consumed by your existence. You're trying to stand out and prove you need to earn a spot in their daily lives. Like a glimmering star in their galaxy. You want to be their priority. Their missing piece in the puzzle. The vulnerability of your emotions, is depleting your affection. Like an exposed rose with its petals carried away with the wind of indifference. Now, there's  nothing left to be seen but the thorns. It was when their words and actions were in vain that you couldn't care less more than ever. They left you with a false sense of belonging. Hoping to get back and you'll be still waiting with the vacant memory they left behind. You ended up with a hollow heart and brain. Wallowed in your  dark thoughts giving yourself the right to hate, to despise those who walked on you. Earnestly wanting to end up with the right fears.

Into the rabbit hole

Don't be afraid
Step inside
Take a closer look...
Welcome to my wonderland.
Into the rabbit hole, I flee. Don't dig deeper in my thoughts as you'll never hit the bottom of my elusive unspoken words. I barricade my dreams against blackholes of devastation. I will forfight for my soul to wander till eternity in the maze of expectations. Run, run towards the woods of endless possibilities. I'm the Alice in my wonderland. But, I'm not lost. I'm a wanderer with every inch of fear in my mind. The walls of my wonderland won't collapse on me until the glimpse of freedom fades away.
Into the rabbit hole I'll always flee....

Like different phases of the moon

Change is an inevitable paradox.  It is lingering in our restless minds. We all fear the unknown, the changes and what would happen if...? Yet, we secretly hope to change, to break the daily routine. Patiently impatient for others to change, for us to change and live up to their expectations subconsciously. In request to seek the missing pieces of the puzzle of our lives; the loose ends. The loose ends in every story of untold mysteries of people. People whom we wait to change our stories by changing theirs.  People whom we used to call friends, family, soul mates, colleagues and their nominations continue to vary. They used to be your everyday routine. Reminiscing how your heart beats were so loud echoing in your chest, like trampling upon floor full of glass shards in their presence. Now, you look in their eyes, hauntingly. Knowing that their absence is a loose end of an old unraveled mystery, yet it's the threshold of a new adventure. Maybe, you are a loose end in someone's life. You changed, too. In desperate need to embrace who you used to be is in the past with every piece of puzzle you unraveled. You became what you promised yourself and others you won't. You choose the phase, the change, the better you of both; past and present. It's a matter of unnatural selection. We all change to adapt. The moon changes its shape through phases. You get to see the dim and the lit sides of the moon through the interval of time. Even when the moon is embedded in the clouds barely seen, you love that invisibility like a well hidden treasure. How mesmerising the moon's captivating changing perspectives. It's the transformation of the moon that makes you grateful to change. Like the different phases of the moon, we change. You and I change. we get to see the different beauty of the dim and lit sides of people through intervals of life. Individuals resembling another phase of a beautiful transformation. Just like the moon, we change....

Just an incandescent thought

For delusion of love has become my new reality. A glimpse to your igniting soul is all that my misguided heart needs. You thwart my lucent dreams of hope. I can not tell whether your manipulative words are sincere or not. Your jokes, your smiles, the locking of our eyes. Is it true? Is it really happening? Am I falling for you? The pondering means I already did. How to undo such deed? Neither the overthinking nor the oblivion helps.
I want to have faith in you, let you be the beacon to my sanctuary.

-With courtesy to the photographer of the image.

Reminiscing the drastic event: Thursday, July 2, 2015

It's 8 am and I'm trying to get some sleep. I turned on the TV, witho no sound to help me surrender to my dreams. Electric guitar intro merged followed by the lyrics of Marylin Manson's sweet dreams. Playing on repeat in my mind, it took me few seconds to realise that is my alarm. As soon as I muffled the alarm, rubbed my eyes and checked the time, I rushed to get dressed and head to the market. Grabbed the smallest bag I could on my way out, locking the door behind me. Started walking down the street, after few turns, I reached a familiar building. How could I ever forget it? hundreds of people pass by that place oblivious to its agony it caused me for two years of my life at this same time of the year. She died there, my grand mother. That building with it's dull pale yellow painting and lingering memories. I didn't cry. I just stared into that building: the hospital, while all these memories flowed. I guess I didn't cry not because it's not about death, it's about all that precedes that and the fact that I lost her to cancer. I regained control of the situation and remembered I was on my way to buy. I kept on walking to find my self in different alleys surrounded by pedlars presenting their various goods. I reached my destiny, finally! *Phew*
I walked back home, loaded with bags that I can barely carry. It crossed my mind all the other details I observe. However, they're insignificant. Just the daily rush hour of people.
That was all about my Thursday.

Dwelling quote

“I am a loner at heart, though you wouldn’t know it. I regularly make an effort to leave the house and mingle, and when I do, I endeavour to appear both approachable and friendly. However, in the back of my mind, there always lies this dull steady ache, begging me to leave.”
—Beau Taplin

I just thought that this quote should be universal. It fits the description 

Pathetic existence

I laid a foot on the step, saying my daily "Good morning" with a pleasant smile. Then, I headed to my usual window seat in the bus. On my way to the university, I propped my head against the window, observing the mesmerising blossoming trees resembling Sakura trees of Japan. Passing by a poor woman dragging her little child to drop her off, a man in a suit with his briefcase in hand and fiddling with his car keys in the other. Noises transcending: Pedlars calling, giggles of children running in the street,  loud car horns.The nature's sounds submerging with the human element producing that bizarre familiar symphony. Everyone is engrossed in their paisley pattern of their dull life. Just like me, stuck in that seat waiting to reach  my destination. That feeling devouring my soul, watching everything from a window pane. I want to be a stranger, yet the most worthy person you will ever meet. I want to be a ghost, still, remembered for my everything. I can feel it in my bones, I'm intimidated. Why would I feel that way? Is it because I expect from myself to adapt with others, that I'm compelled to  crack my shell? I mean mentally. That was a rhetorical question.  Everyone who gets on that bus craves attention, including me. Why do we have that survival mechanism based on continuity of family, friends, or other Homo sapiens?  It's pathetic. Even when we're about to die, the first thing that conquers our minds is that we're leaving our loved ones behind. Enough with that tribalism. I know it is inevitable that thought: I want to be alone. But, not lonely. I want to be secure. I want my safe haven where no one could hurt me. On second thought, we all seek that pathetic existence. For my fears are eccentric, I shall be silent. *gets off the bus*