Image by John Hain from Pixabay 

When my life reached the age of 18, everything became so common. All the priceless emotions, such as love, care immeasurable sense of honesty and last but not least, the pure sense of longing had lost its morality. As if all the different jewels of the earth got confused about their values and hence got scattered in the chaos of their understanding. Some of them lying angry while some pale and some wishing to die. In prayers for a gemologist who would awaken the positive perceptions of their philosophy. Similar to this situation, my life was pretty perplexed with the price of each emotion I'd regularly and annually display.

I often wondered wounded, who deems the quality and qualification of an emotion? Rather, how is it calculated?

When I face a mirror spitting a replica of my image
All I feel is confined in a cubic mirage
A cell that captures me away from reality dropping me over grass that ought to serve me some leisure and serenity.

But to tell you the truth, this fantasy doesn't last long,
Knowing lies are fastened by knots of emotions, I would return back weary untouched by the palms of true love

As I was cemented with care and caution since childhood,
Sins stain the beauty of my soul
Yet I find place to return without a reason to behold.

Repeatedly I'd hide myself from spirals of thrusting emotions from the world...
Day in and day out I negotiate with myself, when will I get past through this?

I question myself.
What did I feel is nothing but an adulterated truth?
The reasons of feeling sad don't weigh anything?
Do I trouble anyone because of my presence??
Is my life a lie?

At noon,
I seek a floor to comfort my restless body to discover this unintentional tingling sensation.
But all I do is bang my forehead over the ground leaving myself sobbing with one statement.
But, my sufferings are lesser compared to those around me...
Since the time this sentence has paved it’s way into my life, the intruder has turned into a housemate.
And my life has been like a lid over the container of my gems’.

My light was clenched tight in this sentence never another judgment to slice its position in my heart.
To tell you evidently,
All my stories written in broad daylight were incomplete.

I had no knowledge about strategies, plotting and all the possibilities favouring intelligence. Nothing in particular enhances my presence.
Nor do I level to that of a concrete description about myself. I usually have lost myself quite a number of times. Especially my decisions regarding life were neither at risk nor played safe. To be honest, it was never constructed to be placed in a world filled with competitors and players.

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay 

Most of my thoughts were temporary like the invitation of a mystical source into the normally blowing air. Who would've paid heed just for the time being?

Make memories and live until the terrain of pleasures gets sealed.
And would say goodbye, Until a new season fetched my cold feet that would shamelessly wait again for it to appear. But, sadly I could connect the end result in a garden of wilted flowers, Replaced with seeds matching the dead, yet again spring a twining season awakening in my glassy heart. On an honest note, Most of it rendered me a phase of unrequited love yet I'd stay stable knowing the fact that unfolds who truly I am.

It sometimes felt uneasy to know, that Friends and acquaintances were heading on to a journey where, the bright sun would definitely shine. Where they could achieve things using the words like ‘mine’

As for me, the future of someone doesn't give me the right to draw conclusions but only collect my perceptions and praise them silently. What about my future?
My present hurts like hell.

Even if! I were to own a dream of my own just like them
I still lay my body unsettled in a box of wordless emotions.
I never knew what I was running for, nor was I interested in the money factor put forth by the modern world purely.
It surely was traumatizing to remember too much of everything every day and yet settle the dispute within yourself with a cheap pay of emotions.

Everything was gloomy, all turned boring.
Each day I'd begin to cross out a friend in my list.
My pleasures favoured to cancel people who would genuinely care about me.
Every time I began to lie about what I feel.
I started talking less.
I wanted everyone to exit from my life.
It turned out to be a solitary mess

I am just a human; I live with my family consisting of my parents and my mother's mother in law. My life is so much easier compared to their struggling lives of a middle class family. But they did smile whenever reasons and resolves gifted them their rewards.

As, I live under a roof thoroughly protected. My family invests in me through mediums providing education, culture and lots more, in order to forge a better life in the uncertain future. Yet I lay inside my linen curled like a snail wondering of all the possibilities of my existence.

In conclusion, my plate is filled with fruits bearing no results but misery undressed with melancholy. I knew I was secured and protected, but I also knew someday the sealed gates of education will unleash me into the world. Someday I will have to earn the same bread I ate thrice, I will have to pay the same bill I lived rent-free more than thrice, and I will have a lot to execute. And in that chaos I wonder am I suitable enough to encounter what I am meant for. However, the future is unsure. But my present is still lingering in the shadows commanding abilities to relive roots of endless pain.

My heart bears a fertile soil and at the same time my mind bears a canon of poison. My understandings run parallel; my blood intersects points of destruction. The poison shoots my blood from the centre of my mind releasing itself to flow deep into my eyes, sinking inside my throat, camouflaging my lungs, and finally gouging through the pipes of my heart like lethal thorns piercing dominating every part of its existence.

The morning light met my fuzzy eyes at 8 am daily.
The blanket giving me warmth reminded me of its purpose.
The brush I used to cleanse my teeth reminded me of its purpose
The mirror I used to comb my hair reminded me of its purpose.

I stood in the middle of my house staring at the furniture settled across; windows embracing light, stationery neatly stacked in its residence and carefully watched everything visible to my naked eye.
Eventually everything had a reason to stay. But when I moved my vision to the skin on my palms. My eye lashes moistened up as it found out I had no reason to stay.

A change: What caught my attention?

The first day when I woke up
I proceeded to carry on my daily routine prior breakfast.
It was a pretty boring schedule.

My fingers unlatched windows yielding no dreams.
The air flew by gradually to support my existence.
Light gouged inside trapping hope away.
Curtains were sided in the presence of an unforeseen dawn.

Yet the blood rushing inside my face felt mad, insane, and lunatic on admiring such occurrences. But surprisingly I also carried a face who would smile right away even if the most simple joke or event struck by. And I also had a face that would struggle to disqualify itself from emulating itself with a jerk.

As the clock struck 9, I stepped inside my kitchen to make myself breakfast. And that is where I decided to skip the bread in the meal due to unknown reasons.
The second day my tongue abandoned the taste of steaming tea.
And the third day, I lost appetite to partake in my morning meal.

The aroma of the meal sheltering my nose numbed my conscience, yet there was neither thirst nor any desire. Evenings sometimes I would sit broken like every human being calling this feeling of boredom normal.

Everything that I penned down now seemed to drop down an ink of curse.
A curse knotted to an obscure element.
An element I thought who could probably tell me the purpose of my life.
Stories weren't penned by ink anymore, but by blood alone.

Image by Ambady Sasi from Pixabay 

My fingers lost the momentum like a clock running slow towards its death. All the things done in totality, never satisfied me, I had a face yearning for a purpose while it rested upon countless plucked flowers soon to be dead. I had eyes falling in love with darkness.

And here I go again speaking of all the lilies leaving a toxic fragrance.
I must cease, but a place other than home would never accept me.
And even it would, I still have no judgement, no gut, no intuition of my true meaning or existence of this act of me staying alive in flesh and bones.

The piece of paper separated the words into my body and I could feel as if a candle was igniting inside me alive.
The heat produced pictures of me in the past being hurt, the present stabbing me to honesty, all the hollow unjustified deliveries, and the painful ideas of trying to die.

I knew it; my existence was nothing but a pain..
Even if light had to pass through, my cracks or my wounds were not lethal enough to be accepted.
Nor were my actions been of any worth.
It was a waste of time carrying out the act of living, but yet I feel so exhausted.

My head dropped over my shoulders and lay fast asleep.
I feel like I am floating in my blood with no room to escape.
But in that blood, I lived to complete a purpose.
And the purpose was to let the blood flow by adding meaning to it.
And so, I began challenging my life and signed up for this battle.

And I walked away from the crown of despair, living to dare. This change dropped in a resolve liberating like never before.

.    .    .