Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Contrast-foul-Contrast-fuel Longing


I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.
Life isn’t meant to exist in a narrow color spectrum of perpetual happiness. That’s a movie. It’s not reality. Experience all your vivid, fiery, watery emotions. Give yourself permission to be full bodied. You’re peeling. Revealing. It’s a messy, magnificent process.
Sometimes the verbal communications from a complete stranger are so friendly, that you sink down sulking to an awe of desirous longing for knowing thee & sharing yourself to thee more. If that little conversation lasted pretty good, imagine how rest of it could. You rejoice to a strange yet pleasing appraisal of kind interaction, that made your day, and the more of it seldom makes you want to grasp and hug and kiss and never let it go, never let It end.
God created man and, finding him not sufficiently alone, gave him a companion to make him feel his solitude more keenly.
Agreed we all are strangers in a strange strange world until we start becoming friends and inmate thee. Far are the truths and the false attributes of a life, that often tie us down, and we slowly open, each layer peeled of resulting in a ruined or building up a strong impression that could last for eternity or die instant.
I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul. This world is so guarded and fearful. I appreciate rawness so much.
Presumptions and expectations based on our judgmental core values lead us to somewhere or no where. We often kill it and try to flee away from what is not so desirous to thee and keep safe the desirous that belongs to our fetish forte. Tired to rinse and wash often thy stained, we start a fresh and the viciousness follows.
I despise the space that separates our skin whether it’s only the threads of our tshirts or the miles between our beds
Desire to mingle and talk more, sharing and caring gets more ascertained based on how the other person reacts to your over friendly gestures. Not often is the person on other side in parallel terms to your choicest of options and its different all together to a contrast foul or a contrast fuel (contrast full) of seldom conditional self centered agendas.
I may not have been sure about what really did interest me, but I was absolutely sure about what didn’t.
Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first. People who need help sometimes look a lot like people who don’t need help.

How difficult is it to simply tell someone that you were fond of thee and in response all you get is why and how in reaction to thee statement delivered. Backing off is the only step left to save yourself from any humiliation thus caused, meanwhile hard to convince that the lonely soul might want to creep to a soul that mistook the fondness to be a misinterpreted and misguided approach, pretty much straight that was nothing more of an outrageous attempt to be straight forward and approach thee with love, failing to which, one dwells into ones shell once again with no trust to thee.
I hide because there’s more to me than what you see and I’m not sure you’d like the rest. I know that sometimes, I don’t like the rest.
Bend down rudeness of harsh realities make you live in a fake world of your own, and the world would never understand you , just because you tried so hard to reach out to thee, but thee never understood. Failing to the intellect that could mesmerize and settle it all even, the journey flings from one corner to other , from one soul to another, & the poor soul gets pissed off at the end. Grief stricken privacy longing to be invaded & assaulted.

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. - Anonymous

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