Maze of Distorted Self infliction

   She was tattered. From the inside and out; only by putting everyone's lives ahead of hers. And she thought that was love. What feigned from her cognizance was the fact that it was the lack of love for her own self. And one can only love fulfillingly when they are completely at peace with their own self. The one truth she never grasped. She had given up on patching the tatters up, rather, she had fallen in love with caressing the texture of it. Falling in love with a number of  things so often, had become a habit.

   The disheveled face she had started to carry on the outside? Oblivion. Towards self integrity. But why did she let herself tear and rot away? The pain of separation and desperation. The guilt of breaking people. A maze of distorted self infliction. The frequency of her fainting spells and tears were at its' peak.  Balled in a corner bawling so often, for something that she hasn't done, neither is she responsible for. 

   At the end of the day he still says: Never did she care, neither will she do. He too, lives in oblivion. Oblivion to acceptance. She's punishing herself for whatever it is that she did; yet unaware of her faults. She seems to be frolicking in the guilt of his sadness. Such are facades. And she expects he will run away from her. If he looks in the mirror, the misery of her actions, should make him run away. He must run away. The mirror worked for her.
   A reality check was enough of a push for her. All she needed to do was look in the mirror. The answer to all her troubles was right there staring back at her. With empty eyes bruised under and broken skin, the reflection longed for freedom. And the misery, the moment of truth, made her decide to run away and never look back. Ever.

                                                                      

                                                                                                                      - ThatGirl. Again

Mirage of a War

   The stark normalcy of each day is like a piercing scream in a silent night. Such high contrasts to what has been going on in the depths of two souls. The pretense of nothingness is worse than the chaotic drama she is habituated to each day. To be hurt in love is inevitable, but then it was clear that war always brought destruction. An ally's strike was always that. But she never knew that pain could make you smile and being loved could be unfulfilling too. All at the same time. A little seems a lot when replaced with nothingness. A lot is made to look like it's nothing because, Pretense. And the silence of it all, in an intimate territory with no boundaries, yet so far; leaves behind destruction of no measure.

  And yet again, she gets to watch all of it, the drama and him, slip away, ever so slowly, like a lightening flash; it will all be gone. And loss is such that, it leaves behind destruction in it's wake. The one who leaves might suffer from nostalgia, but is otherwise unperturbed. He's heading to  new world, either out of choice or consequence and there's no reason or time to look back. The ones left behind, among the same walls, breathing the same air, walking the same gravel; the ones left behind are the ones who would grieve. She knows that once someone leaves, they can never come back. And she knows grieving is unfruitful. Futile. 

   But she also knows she has always emerged out of distress. And even if it takes time, she will manage to get out of this one and joke about it.  But before that, there will be adequate drama, boatloads of tears and quite a few blackouts. And she is preparing her armours. She is set for the war, which will not only bring destruction, but smiles of horribly unreasonable nature.

                     - That Girl.Again

 

Nothing more...

Ever since she encountered loss, however brief, her heart started with those cracks. And then some shards here and there. A few pieces kept falling out without her realizing. Those tiny voids didn't come to mean much.. She would always learn to live with it before another one of those cracks would slice her through. In those snippy terse confrontations with her heartbreaks, her world would collide with the universe; in her head, there was just abyss.

Concurrent lapses of darkness and one rainy evening, she only finds a hole where her heart resided once. There's nothing left, not enough, even for tears. A silent, gaping, numb hole. But love would still come seeking her. Such loves she couldn't fulfill or deny. 'Heartless' they might call her then. But literally so. Coming around in bits and pieces, the hole would fill up some, fall out a bit more.

So much was buried in the confines of the dark, cracked crevice. She let no one see those dark secrets in the fear of loss. He had unknowingly induced healing in her. Piece by piece she was coming around. He illuminated the crevice, her secrets ablaze, and however ugly, this time she didn't try to hide them. Whether intoxicated with passion, the veil of fear had vanished from between them. Emotions were felt on a greater intensity, she hardly knew what she was doing. She was enveloped in a force led by her subconscious, she was busy taming the wildly galloping horses of her heart. A glimpse would curb all her unending questions. There was just one answer. That she was happy. And she didn't need a reason.

Sometimes in the dark of the night, they would question all of it, all over again. The invisible line that they kept crossing and pushing each other back on, the deciphering of spoken emotions and unspoken words, the assumptions of regrets, the expectations of hopes, the confusion of dwindling veils. Often, all the looming questions in the air made it hard to breathe. So much dilemma. Such quiet drama. 

Faced with each other, it all ceased to matter. They were only happy then. She was happy. And there wasn't a need of any answers. Happiness. And she's asking for nothing more. Nothing more.

- ThatGirl.Again

Prolonged Momentary Hitch Breathed Dilemma

   Trust and expectations travel in the same boat, with them comes hope and disappointment quietly follows. But we choose to fall in the boat nonetheless. We choose to love and to trust because we cannot do without it. And in that vicious loop people fall in the blame game, but really, if there's anyone to blame it's ourselves, and our instincts. Those uncontrollable flames of emotions licking our flesh. We fail to accept things that were bound to happen and cringe internally. Crib and complain. And whine some more. But we will never learn to contain those floods of emotions within our gates. But one day we get tired; tired of these continuous loops leading us no where. 

   She was tired too; and cold. Numb and stuck; she didn't wanna go on anymore, but she had to. Neither could she go on internally, standing at a divide in the road. She knew everything will eventually lead her to the ubiquitous, ineradicable pain with tiny little packages of happiness on her way. Stranded right on the fork, reluctant to decide, she waits to watch life go by for everyone. To let time tell it's tale. And it does without the slightest trace of her absence.

   Stranded at a place she's falling, the scenery around her never changing. Looping where shards of glass crack and start to fall to the ground but never really find any closure. In that prolonged momentary hitch breathed dilemma, she never knows if she will ever hit the ground reality. That ephemeral blindness of lights out is starting to seem perennial. Clutching at her heart, pleading it to shift to a slower pace, her pulse has settled on a permanent high. She's stripped of  conscious thoughts. Fleeting memories of him bring her out of this reverie. Brief encounters if his voice or face would cure her out a little.

    This forces her to believe he is what she's seeking. But she isn't. He's started to matter a lot more than the one who is supposed to. Because he is the only shore she sees everytime she manages to bob her head out of the strong current of the water's surface. Someone's holding her hand underwater, her feet are anchored by shackles somewhere deep down on the sea bed. She's fighting for breath and struggling to live, hence all other thoughts cease to matter.

                                              - ThatGirl.Again

The Never Ending Maze

Yeah, She definitely does follow a pattern. She had read somewhere about it. How women tend to follow a typical pattern while they subconsciously choose to fall for there significant other. Now she could join all the pieces, relate and see that she would always somehow fall for all the difficult Men. Or Boys.. All these guys with ideals, morals, values.. head in the clouds, ambitious guys. But if nothing, he would be amazing at heart. Elder guys usually wooed her more often then not. But then.. nothing ever ends without buts uhh.. He would have to be difficult, stuck in love or career focused. And I guess she subconsciously went for it because she knew that this will ensure her to be out of his focus of attention. But having enough to be able to ask for it. Unwanted attention was the last thing she enjoyed. 

    The drama and adventure of investing herself and fighting towards unattainable things attracted her may be. Because she never gave up. He would become the world she would live in and every smile of her's would be on his account. Such was the way she fell; emotionally invested. He would become the first person to know the trivial details of her insignificant day. And he would happily revel with her as an accomplice; in all her tiny adventures. But then again; again they would realize how hard and fast she has fallen. Reality comes crashing in. They would run from that. And hide. But to no accord. Like waves they will come crashing back to each other. Ever touching, Ever seeing. Never meeting. 

    Always in the shadows of her ablaze self, would be someone who would truly believe to have fallen for her. And she loves him, but just that. She isn't in any fight here to achieve. Her fight here is to balance and that's worse. There's lot of patience and concentration required. No impulsive passionate shots of pure fury or pleasure. Just this frustrating obsession of perfection, balance, harmony. 

   But no one knows what she has been tired of explaining. She doesn't want the world at her feet. Just something that's enough to make her happy. And no amount of efforts are really required. If you click, she will fall in your arms happily. Then again, this entire game that she puts herself into. This maze between the person who sets her on fire and the one who seeks her shadows. It's all in her head. All the time. One moment she's dipping her toes in pure throes of fury or impulse, the next second she's fighting hard in her head to set the scales right. Continuously lost in this maze, they haunt her in her dreams too.

                                               - ThatGirl.Again

Back and Forth

   A vivid memory, in the form of souvenirs, collectibles or just little pieces of rock.. Those were her treasures. That's how she recorded her memoirs; of all the people she loved and the places she set her heart upon. But then, sometimes, not all the things hold that special place. Some places, she had come to fret. The places of parting; where she left a piece of herself and returned, empty handed. But she will never forget.

    That gate which he went through, the turn that she took and looked back for the last time, those railings which she saw him through, those stairs that she took, those windows which she waved through. Those last glimpses and the fear in those eyes; of hers and theirs. Those eyes will forever be etched upon the pedestal of her memory. And it hurts so bad not because they left, but because no amount of meetings will put things back in their place. No amount of efforts will help. Because she knew, once they leave, they never truly come back.

   And then for days she would feel like being in an existential crisis. the ones she belonged to are gone. Pieces of her are missing. And the comfort, the love is never coming back. On the other hand, there still are people, right besides her, claiming to love her. funnily, they are quite blind to her tears. It's so weird, that they read her, completely the wrong way. Her insides are like a sea at storm beneath a calm facade. The sand is right beneath her, has forever been, but fails to comprehend the struggle inside her. The sea inside her craving to meet others of her kind. Hindered by the waves of parting and anchored by the sand stretches, the waves go back and forth, never reaching too far.

   The ocean inside her and seas alike, all thwarted by the grains beneath. Craving, struggling for their similies, the fall back, failing. Failing to realize, that what's right beside them, has always been. Touching only the exteriors, the stand never stood a chance; probably, she never gave it one. Continuously looking out for his ocean of stormy love, the sand was never justified. A facade, of uniformity and acceptance, always over her. Appalled, the sand watches silently, those rare storms.

   It suffocates her insides, fills her with guilt, how she's incomplete, only because she craves. and the pretence and efforts to please the world; the sand. Those souvenirs, from every little place, are little parts of her that complete her.  

                                        

                                               - ThatGirl.Again

Breaking Out of her Own Cage

   To lie on her back and look at the stars. To sing aloud off tune with a couple of friends. To venture out as and when she feels like. To dance her heart out at her secluded retreat. To have those random food and selfie sprees with her best buds. Those little pleasures, about which she had forgotten of, were coming back to her. Life had given her a heavy layered, but nonetheless, very pretty dress to handle. Hard to breathe in, hard to walk in. But she knew she had to walk the ramp, managing to infuse all the more grace and beauty possible. So she had started to gather the folds of her dress. She had to get up and get going.

    All the times that she was distraught, broken or gloomy; she had learnt a lot of lessons. She had known love and friendship and their cross breeds and hybrids. And she had learnt that just because you love someone doesn't mean you like them or approve of them. She knew that one negative thought about a person or any doubt regarding their character,simply means mistrust, which in turn leads to unconcern. And that one person becomes a lost chapter in the book.

   

And they are still there, it’s only that one doesn’t know what to make of them and thus the lost chapter. And she had been a lost chapter to many. A subject of disapproval and dislike to quite a few too; while being an object of affection. He was one of them too. She was his ‘object’ of affection and he read her too; inside out. But no longer did it concern him whether what page of the book he was on. Or so she presumes. And still, every time that she thinks of Intimacy, it’s his face that passes through her mind. Amongst all the lazy whispers and kisses, the memories of his lightest touch arrest her body into numbness. And she was done with this. She didn’t want love that was pitiful. Love that was full of inacceptance. She didn’t need those sorts of people at all. People who were unsure, judgmental, threatened of their own sanctity.

And she had to be her own star, Dance in the rainy storm, Sing her own tune. She didn’t need another lead character. And thus the stars and the selfies and the out of tune songs. Because life might be out of tune too but she had found the fun in it. 

                                              

                                            - ThatGirl.Again

      

     

Picking out the Shards

   Once everything was scattered in front of her and all the pieces lay on the floor beneath her, she went in pieces with them too. And for hours altogether, all the pieces stayed there, grieving. But life has to go on, and there's always show time. For her, every morning is show time. So she gathered herself up, and while she was doing that, she came to realize that the other pieces just didn't make sense anymore. The edgy, painful shards were just really random memories that still hurt as much, but somehow ceased to matter. All they did was pierce her soul, again and again. She began trying to put the pieces back together. But she ended up hurting herself. Such were the fragments. Randomly scattered. Which didn't make sense.

   She had begun to realize that she was aboard a ship which was sure to sink. She had drowned down her ego, friends, work, family, commitments all unknowingly, only idolizing him. Trying to keep him aboard. But the ship was still sinking and she knew nothing can save the ship anymore. And she knew there were lifeboats. The ones she was choosing to ignore all this while. And she knew it was time to act before it was too late. The book had to move ahead. The page had to be turned. And everything in the past was just a lesson. Going back in the past was allowed only for reference. And she knew all this. 

  But she kept on questioning herself, 'What about those promises?' 'What happened to forever ever after?' 'What if he still loves me?' 'What if he decides to come back?' But she knew all the answers in the hearts of her heart. Promises are made only when both people involved are unsure of the setting. There is no forever ever after. Ever. He never loved her. He was never there in the first place to ever leave, or come back for that matter.

   Her eyes were finally taking in the mess that her life had become. And she knew it was time to do some cleaning. She had seen people walk off out of their mess, leaving the other people involved in that deep shit. They would casually locate to new territories. But to her, Cleaning up made so much sense. It washes off the grime and crime, off your hands. And what needed the most cleaning was her conscience. She needed to get over her guilt trip. The guilt she felt towards herself, mostly. So she spilled it all out. Her escape. Her Wonderland. The Vivid Memories. She had to leave her eternal escape behind. Get out of the vicious whir and blur. Because all of it didn't matter or make sense anymore.She knew she had to start rolling the film again. And of all the things she had to do, She knew getting herself a new film roll was the most crucial.

- ThatGirl.Again

Oblivion of Obsession

   She keeps it all stacked together. His words and memories and every beat that she missed while being around him. It's her box of guilty pleasures. And she revels in them so often. Sometimes by choice, but most times a wave comes and drowns her into the sea. He is the anchor that holds her down and keeps her there. And she can hold her breath as long as she knows he will be around. She has known love and she knows it doesn't hold u down. She knows how much of a junkie she has become while satiating her desperate need of him. He is her addiction; though she knows there's rehab; and she is on her way to find it.

    She laughs at herself a lot these days. Doing what she did. Fighting. Struggling. To surpass his standards, to receive his 100% approval, to impress, to gain attention. Her efforts were like that of a butterfly trying to please a flower, while everyone else in the periphery was in awe with the butterfly. And so was the flower. But the flower was just too colorful to clearly express it. It was all so beautiful once, back then. Starry quite nights on the rooftop on drizzly nights. Electric currents fusing through warm bodies. Never ending stories and cosy comfortable silences. He knew every expression of her too well. he could almost read her heart written all over her face. In just a glance. And he was one of the very few who could. And may be the only one who cared enough to do. And showered her in soft caresses in return. He knew she was an open book. And he knew she meant everything she said. He even knew she meant it, clear and direct, when she asked to be left alone.

     She sat on those stone steps with everything scattered around her. All the memories strewn across the surface going down hill. And she realized. It's not him. It's not him at all. It's the memories. Those beautiful pictures painted in her head. Only memories. Mere memories in all their grandeur. The movie that keeps on replaying at the back of her head. Only because she knows the movie has stopped progressing abruptly. And it wont anymore in a positive direction. Hung in mid air. Only because it hurts looking him right in the eye and fighting the urge to run to him and be enveloped in the security of his arms, resting assured to be not judged or or looked upon with wrath. But everything ends, all movies do. Some movies have weird endings and so do some lives. She knows the onset of memories will ebb some day and gradually vanish. And eventually there will be someone with stronger arms, who would read her face better. 

Must listen to: Still by Daughter (If You Leave)

- ThatGirl.Again

Will you be mine?

   It's not when you miss a person terribly or not when you want to spend all your time with them. It's not at all when you are ready to do anything for them and not when they're continuously on your mind. And the concept of not being able to live without a specific person, is a complete fail. It's not even when you think you are compromising when you do things for them and also not when doing things for them seems like trouble or a formality in order for them to not get hurt.

    She is a wild sea at storm now. With raging waves of emotions. She was once a smooth flowing river, calm and sorted. Not anymore. She is continuously being beaten down by the rocks at bay. All the waves are breaking down and rebuilding. She can't quite figure out one from another. She can't feel the catastrophe around her. Because she has gone numb. Numb from feeling too much of everything. She has heard promises; she has been shown dreams of forever after. She has melted in words and shared smiles to the ninth cloud. These silver linings have made her fall that much harder. Often; It's this delusion that we mistakenly call love; we pay no attention to the gist of the words that the lover says while we are too intoxicated in ecstasy by the way they're said. 

       But even in ecstasy, she rarely slipped with the words. And it's the words that she remembered the best. They meant too much to her and she dwelved too deep in them. Those four simple words from an year ago, "Will you be mine?" keep replaying in her head. Those impulsive sweet talks and spur of the moment promises came to mean more than they were meant to. And the sweeter the words of the past, the harsher they cut her in the present.

    The words; the words have left a hole in her heart. His face; everytime it appears; scrapes the edgy facets of the hole in her heart. Tears are shed and so is blood. She can't feel it though; numb as she is. So numb. She knows it's not love. Definitely not it. Not the words; nor the feelings or the substance of the promises.

-ThatGirl.Again

Say Something, I am Giving Up On You!

   The seeds of doubt. The unbelieving looks that pass their faces. The speculations. And how their actions speak so much louder. How they look away. And how they make it a point to pierce her with their words or actions, making it look like it was just another random thing. Those loud cries of desperation and insecurity being defended as clues and hints of unsatisfaction. The pretence of killing a flying bird while she has been caged and rid of her wings earlier. Sometimes they say it, sometimes they show it. Most times they abandon her. And again she gets trampled on and forgotten despite all her efforts. It's hard to tell who is more desperate.

     She goes out of her way. She compromises. She lets god her own comforts. She has gone numb about her own choices. She abandons her sleep each night. She carries their baggage while dragging behind her own sorrows or dropping them altogether. All she expects is acceptance, care. A concerned look, deep down her almost unfathomable eyes. A genuine, giving hug; not of self infliction or formalities. The promise of belonging. After doing so much. That is all she asks for.

         What she gets instead is taunts, pokes, anger, avengeful words, unsatisfaction and most of all hurt. Still she keeps trying. Running. She never stops trying. The little mouse on the wheel. Struggling to make all ends meet. Pleasing everyone. Feeling guilty for working late. Wishing for seconds to tick by faster or slower as people please. Only to make them smile. Because that is what counts. And that was all that mattered to her. Until lately. She has put down her weapons now. She is tired of running. She is going to be blamed and hurt either way. So she's giving up. Letting go..

 

 Recent favourite song, Watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2U0Ivkn2Ds&feature=kp

                          

                                                                                                                   - ThatGirl.Again

If Only..

    Freedom. Space. That is what everyone is craving for. Nature; Independent and free; Acts on will and thus so beautiful. So Breathtaking. And as true and kind it could get. That is what freedom does. Instills life in mundane proceedings. To be able to branch out; or set and rise at will, dance with the wind or break down and drop like an autumn leaf. No questions asked, no judgments made and no expectations to match up to. Only cherishing the changes and adapting to them. Attaining the stability to act on impulse and be accepted. This is exactly what she is struggling for. freedom. Space. Naive Impulses. And no questions asked. No judgments made. Acceptance.

        Bound by indifference. Bound by work. Running on a spindle like a mouse. In confined spaces she fights to feel; and to feel for him, free from him. She wants a shout out, and no judgments. If she could only step out from behind the spotlight. If she could only muster up the courage. If she could only master her heart or the world. If she could live out with the crux of her being. She craves being looked upon, cared for, accepted and overlooked. The ravenous stares that pierce her back with judgments have to be vanquished. If she could only build and destroy as she pleased. If she could only feel for him, free from him.

                                                                                                 
                                                                                                                            - ThatGirl.Again

     

Once in Forever

    Breathing. Putting one step in front of another. Blinking with time. Smiling at apt moments. Dressing right. Waving at people because that's how it's supposed to be. The correct attitude. Controlled emotions. A mask, That continually smiles. For the world. Grieving; only after lights out.And it's a vicious circle on repeat mode. The tape has been pulled out, damaged, tampered with, but it's wound again in the cassette. It looks perfectly fine. But There's no sound. Lying in a lone corner, No one plays it anymore, Outdated. Obsolete. The world passes by, No one realizes. Everything is in order. Breathing. Putting one foot in front of another. Looking forward only to the finish line.

     And then, Once in a while, seeing that one face. It's like the sunlight streaming in through broken glass windows. Rays of light come through. Hope lightens up. Once in a while, everything comes alive in her. The storm is pushing, fighting against her walls. She is losing her composure. She wants to scream her lungs out, fling her arms around her love and just let the rest of the world melt away. Once in a while, she wants to let go. Once in a while, she doesn't wanna be afraid. Afraid f needing. Afraid of needing to be in love. Once in a while, she wants to be consumed in the fire of love. Being washed over by it. Feel all of it; And then Let it all Go. Be Free of it. For once and for all.

      Trapped. Trapped behind bars built by her own faults and slips. Chains wrung around her by her very own self. Lying inside the cage, musing over the imprints. The imprints left behind. It's funny how the imprints are like shadows, only left behind. And misleading. Misleading shadows. Shadows that are a lie. So much more Grandeur than it's actual form. But she needs that once in forever, Where she can let go and let it all out. All the emotions brewing inside and brimming at her rims. And the only person she wants to talk it all out to, is the one who put her in the cage, in the first place. But he can never know. He must never  know. He doesn't care enough to know. He's not worthy of knowing. The bounds, the struggle, It's all wasted. Wasted upon an Unaware traveler; unaware of what he's treading on; who later decided to change his path.

Follow link to see the illustration :One of my favourite artist's : ' Finding Quieter ways to love you'

- That.GirlAgain

                     

   

     

Lost, Incomprehensible. Again and Again

    When obsession takes over. When a personal catastrophe is created. When the rib'cage' of the heart is realized. When a head is pushed under the surface of the water for too long. When the extreme waves of emotions are beaten down and have gone numb. When sentences from novels are read over and over again to decipher new meanings. When she cares enough to read every blink, every frown, every smile and grimace and every emotion that passes by his face. From afar. When she cares too much.

    She's on a swing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Closer now, farther away the next second. Lost and incomprehensible in the speed and wind of life. Going on walking on a tightrope. Scared to admit anything, lest she falls. Back and forth. Back and forth. He's always in sight, right in front of her. And she goes back and forth. It can't stop, lest he disappears. It can't go on, lest she looses her head. She goes back and forth. Lost, incomprehensible.

    The yearning hides. It sits and waits till nightfall, whilst feeding on her soul. And as the sky darkens and we are returned home, it feeds on her tears. The yearning is insatiable. Her thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of him. And the run through that's in her head is making her dizzier with time. 

     She drains it all out. In the form of tears and ink splattered on paper. That's how she breathes again every morning. That's how she fights the anchors holding her down in the deep black sea. Words are splattered in the dead of the night. And she resurfaces each morning, to drown out all over again. Again and Again.   

- ThatGirl.Again

WanderLost

    There's work. Family. Friends. Events. And Priorities. Everyone has so much to do. It all boils down to preferences and priorities. But for people bound with emotions, there are even commitments to look after. And sometimes she lets go of her preferences to look after her commitments. And she fights and struggles. For Fulfillment. Because giving up an internal conflict is not easy.

     She wanders. A lot. So does her head. She's moody. All designers are. But she's bound. The boundaries restrict her to twirl and twerk and explore. Work is just that. Work. Conditional. Tiresome. The infinity of exploring has transformed into a Never ending drag. In a tight little circle. She's gasping for breath. But with all that, work still comes first. At least in her head. Everything in her head is work. Everything else is secondary.

    Like Love. the love that's lost. And the love that lives. And the abyss in between, with the whirlpool of delusional emotions. She's so deeply involved in her emotions, moved so close to them. She can tell one from another no longer. The world is just a slow motion movie in the backdrop.

     She lies there among lights and colors. Doubled over. Holding on to a steady nothing. Her eyes are empty and so is the sky clear, just after a pour down. She's unaware of what she's staring at or where she is lost. But her wishes and his memories wont leave. And she lies there. Basking in the cold sun in the aftermath of his memories.

        She let her heart wander free. Its lost now.

           p.s. relatable quotes 

"It's not that i cant fall in love. It's really that I cant help falling in love with too many things at once. So you must understand why i cant distinguish between what's platonic and what isn't. Because it's all too much and not enough at the same time."  - Jack Kerouac

Hey There!

   Hey there! Everyone of us is lost in the crowd of people and emotions. And we still tend to feel alone. Because there are a thousand faces and a million facades. Various names and infinite identities.And nothing is constant. Except Change. The world lives on change. It will die without it. Every flicker, every blink, every heartbeat and the world is different in every second. Our life is an adventure and you do not know what will come next. Yet we live, in hope, in anticipation, thriving to be constant. And we fight against inevitability. Because human nature always wants different things. Humans are never satisfied. This fight, this adventure is the spice of our lives. Or that's what i think.

     We are young. Beautiful. Naive. Impulsive. And we will be that way till we live. Every Heart is young and beautiful till the very end. But we are always wandering in the world with the burdens of the past, while anticipating the future. We drag with us, our regrets and memories, masked in dazzling hoaxes. And all of us want to go back in that time, that we once were in. That time when opportunities came with ambition and courage. Giggles were louder and the twinkle in her eyes was omnipresent. Dreams were endless and love was on the top of the list. Sheer innocence. Unscathed beauty.

     But that's gone. That girl is lost in the deep abyss of her eyes. No one cares enough to look closer. At anyone. The courage has been stabbed out by critical eyes. Giggles are scattered, Dreams gloomier. And fear has taken over love. Loosing it is so much more scary than the happiness of feeling it. Lives are vulnerable. But deep inside, we know, That girl lives. Somewhere in us.

     That girl is improbable, childlike, acts on impulse, falls in love too hard and too fast and laughs, laughs at her own free will. What we have learnt on our adventure are lessons from her mistakes. The scars we wear proudly are the old wounds from her various demises. The cloak of past that we wrap around ourselves, in order to be not vulnerable, is all sewn together with the rags of her memories. And sometimes, all we want to do is, close our eyes, slip into a daydream, and be that girl again.

        That Girl Again whom anyone could Fall In Love with.

                                             - ThatGirl. Again