Loved

I miss the way he would plant the kisses on my shivering lips, on my moist eyes, on my flushed cheeks, on my clenched nose, on my forehead. That was the tradition after love-making. I miss the way he would hold me near, close and tight as if to say he would never let me go. I miss the way our bodies would lie entwined,cocooned waiting to evolve wings and fly away. I miss the tune his heartbeats would create, the poundings slowing down slowly from the rush. I miss being called someone's. But I don't miss him. Its okay that I let him go. I respected him enough to set him free. I cared enough to not make him miserable anymore. I don't miss him. I miss the feelings. I did not stop myself from falling in love again. Love is a beautiful feeling. It takes you to a wonderful place. It makes you feel at home. It need not have a name. Love is love. Unconditional. Unpremeditated. But relationships ruin it. The moment you start treating all of it as duties is the moment the magic spell is broken. I fear to risk it anymore. The art of non-possession is indeed a great thing and mastering it makes you strong enough. But sometimes, just sometimes, it's neither about freedom nor about independence, sometimes it's all about belonging to someone and someone belonging to you.

You will be loved

May be I cannot comfort you with words. Maybe I cannot please you with what you want to hear. Maybe I cannot assure you that everything will be alright. Maybe I cannot reach you to wipe your tears. But what I can say, without knowing if it would comfort you or not is that I love you. Truly and deeply. I love you for who you are. For all your bright and dark sides. For all your cranky and loving moods. Remember this. Everytime you feel incomplete or content, you are loved. You feel lonely or celebrated, you are loved. You feel depressed or jovial, you are loved. It is night or day you are loved. It is summer or winter, you are loved. You feel hated or loved, you are loved. I love you. I want to love each piece of you. Each broken and rejected part of you left in debris. I want to find it out and love it. I want to give you all the love you ever failed to receive. So what if I have to burn myself away? I want to light your way up with a million pieces of my burnt up soul. I want to hold you in my arms. And steal your pain away. I want to love you in a million ways.  You were loved. You are loved and will always be loved.

To be broken

There comes a time in life, when you love nobody enough to let them define you. Is it good or bad, i am nobody to decide, neither are you. But once you reach that saturation point, when you are tired of being broken by those people to whom you hand a map and a dagger and show them the way to where it would hurt the most and the wound would be deepest, you really don't bother to collect the scattered and broken pieces of your heart anymore. And the ones who break you are the ones who try to heal you, which is even more pointless maybe. Because if they cared enough, they would not have broken you in the first place. Is it fair to you? Is it okay to let them treat you as the 'damsel in distress'? The best option is to have the power to heal yourself. The one who has mastered the art of self recovery, is the master of his/her life. If you let anyone heal you, you are handing them the map and dagger again. Are you ready to be hurt again? Is momentary relief that important that you risk it all once again?

To be back

Someone said to me today, blog not for people to read, but for you to feel good. And I could not believe how much sense it made. I blogged for the last time more than a year back and somehow stopped. Maybe because of the creative block I am going through. But as I logged in today, it felt the same as turning some pages of a long lost diary which contained some thoughts and feelings you almost forgot existed. And I ended up deciding, I shall blog, no matter how meaningless or how crazy the things I write might turn out to be. I shall not be writing for you, or for him, or for her. I shall write for myself. Writing makes me feel good about myself, makes me feel confident. Being me, I really rely on my diary and notebooks more than friends or people for sharing thoughts and feelings. And when I desperately search for words to express those thoughts,and not get them when I need them, that is the most helpless anyone can ever feel. My thoughts wander from blogging to being helpless, but I guess that is the thing about writing, you can always let your thoughts wander freely, specially when you know that what you write will not even be read probably by anyone you know. So I decide to start blogging again. To seek refuge. To feel good. To know that maybe somewhere, someone will read these thoughts and relate to it. Maybe, somehow my voice would reach out to people I would never be able to reach otherwise. So, you see, this is like the message you send in a bottle, and never know who it reaches, or if it at all reaches anybody...... It's all a maybe...