"There are years that ask questions and years that answer. All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time. You have to die a few times before you can really live - I feel I have lived & died a trillion times already, answering & asking, & my head and heart now is one stale recycle bin, where there is no "empty trash" option! But there seems to be something still that smells nice out of the stale lot. I could sit and write all kind of stories, but they were not of any worth, until I wrote mine, & I even don't mind if anyone was reading or listening to thee, as I was so much busy myself trying to console myself about every word I wrote, filling in all those gaps , that I edited later, and revised. I could straight away go back to every moment good or bad that I ever belonged to, & it could carry me the same way I did, while I admired not so well written prosed collated vocab, that I tried to refine every time I write something.
There is this greed to be filled with harmony & peace, and acquaint thyself with all the materialistic as well as the non-materialistic. One can choose, but at times the choice is not an option made that easily available. Normal is an ideal. But it’s not reality. Reality is brutal, it’s beautiful, it’s every shade between black and white, and it’s magical. Yes, magical. Because every now and then, it turns nothing into something & then you see everything turning just the opposite in fractions of seconds. Its like paragliding without knowing how to. I sit down, stand, lay down, getting hampered and trying to hamper thee back, shoo away these thoughts that haunt me, and bring about just a giggle or a tear & more out of no where, in that state of saddened stoned state of existence that prevails out of no where, & everywhere and everything just falls apart for that very moment. After you are done with the lateral & the not to lateral thinking, and tormented struggling to keep your head straight dropping dead like Fred, & being like one living dead, as if you were already in hell or heaven (don't know either of there realities, so I assume they might just be very much like mine)
There is a kind of crying, I have experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face, giving you all the assurances that everything would be all right no matter what. At least if not everyday, once a week, I could fall into a fit of giggles and laugh rolling out load, holding my tummy, falling of the bed. (they said' there was something called happy tears), I so wish!
"First day of the year", is very much the same as the last day of the year, but then there is something about it that touches you to the core. As life gives you a flash back to the tiny of the ugliest or pretty petite and by and large few random good ones, travelling unwillingly to this whole thought process of past & a intuitively worried presumed future' down a memory lane through & through this very unsettled state of mind - a brainy & heartfelt episodes of ones living.
"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." - My story seems to be no less of a fairy tale, I tell you, but I guess fairies have fled away much long back & I have been busy slaying the dragons lately. I wish my guardian angel comes and save me from thee and slaughter these creatures who torment me away every day. I win , I loose, I get high, I get low, I get defeated, other days I am just average normal being, a less average, a below average, above average, & averagely I live life likewise everyday, and everyday is not the same. I seldom close my eyes, & think I made my brain shut, from the odds, if only I could say life is good, good is nice.
My body is the most revolting thing I own. I know this. I have got it bruised a million times emotionally & physically, thinking of it as a beautiful & ugly. Good riddance. Beautiful or ugly cannot contain what this body represents inside out. I am still here. In this body. After countless times of trying to leave it. A fight with myself-struggling to pacify with a hopeful fistful hollow anxieties & dreams that have made me a wanderer, though wondering now & then isn't that wonderful, I could utilize my time & head into a hell lot of other things I possibly could, If I could only settle down on to thee(my life). Its 3 am' I already made it to the first day of the year, glad! - Anonymous