Deja vu/ Why?

2 things...

1. Déjà vu

(More Than) Empty Conversations

My favourite piece here so far...

I’m biased to my own stories, I’ll never make a good mom :-P

2. This is actually many things, but connected, for me :)

Why do we so often leave our best chances as last resorts?

Why do we often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude?

Why does it have to be All or nothing for me, ALL the time?

Why can’t I do goodbyes?

Why am I being SUCH a girl????

(ok, so maybe this doesn’t really belong here, but, mwa ha ha ha, MY BLOG, MY POSTS)

Also, the hiatus on stuff here is intentional, for those who asked :)

Coming back to Life

A million thoughts in my head,
A mind fuzzed with not enough sleep,
A thousand worries I shouldn’t have
Chaos all around, I’m still in another world

I enter through high arched doors,
Make my way towards the curved stairway
I hear the first faint sounds
A sound that will 'fix' it all
A sound that makes me smile
A sound that makes me forget all that’s wrong

I make my way up the stairs
The sounds getting louder and clearer
The sounds and sight i seek are right around the corner
The stairway lightens up as i climb on
The sound a final turn away
And I head into the shining sun

The thoughts lost,
The mind awakens,
The worries linger no more
And I’m in a world where I belong


Note: Another poem. Is it just me or too many of them here? Still don't think I can write one though.
'The Greatest Game Ever Played' remains a favorite. It rhymed :)

Song Recommendation: Doesn't fit here, but 'The Beautiful Letdown' by Switchfoot is on my mind right now.

The Road (Not) Taken

Somebody tell me what’s wrong
I seem to have lost my way
The urge to get away from a crowd is strong
And alone my far flung thoughts lead me astray


I’m headed down memory lane
Down a boulevard of broken dreams
I have an insight into what might have been
And the bag of choices un-taken is bursting at its seams


Trying to figure out how I got here
The paths so crisscrossed, it’s a maze
I see the paths I almost took, and the ones I did
Smiles await me at the end of the lanes
And not always at the ends of the ones I walked


I wonder what I’d do,
If I could go back and rewrite the past
Would I take on paths un-trodden?
Or would I still be here wondering?


Choices made, shattered dreams, broken promises
Will I ever know where I went wrong?
Maybe if I’d tried harder, held on longer?


Maybe I gave up too soon,
Or maybe, not soon enough?

~

Note: Just scribbles. Wasn't gonna put it up here, but then, I did.

~

Song Recommendation: Too many come to mind, but the line that fits the best:

'The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say' -Time

A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Note: Another attempt at fiction after quite some time. Tried to keep it short.

I think relationships can be defined by big moments that don't happen. ...Or by the little ones that do.

I don’t know where I went wrong. I don’t know if it one big thing, or one tiny thing, or several tiny things. I don’t know if the whole thing was wrong in the first place, but I did not see it coming.

I remember the first time I saw you. He and I were going to watch a movie, and you rudely cut into line before us. Then you lit a cigarette and gloriously ignored my coughing.

You turned around with the tickets in hand, and smiled, no laughed at Her, ran up to Her and almost snatching the slushie from Her hand, gulped down the last of it.

A common friend introduced us a few days later. I didn’t realize then it was you. You still don’t know. You gave a customary nod and smile towards me at my introduction, not really taking in any information about me. At the end of the party, I was waiting for Him to pick me up, saying my goodbyes to my friends. You - the party animal - was amongst the last to leave. Again, a cursory nod, and you were off, without a good bye or ‘hope to see you again’

Fate played a cruel game. He and you became friends. Back then, I saw it as being forced into your company. I took it as you trying to steal Him away from me. What with all our ‘dates’ moving from just the two of Us, to including you, and maybe more guys, hanging out at sports bars. I was jealous for the first time, and because of a guy. Not a good feeling.

I’d come home from a week long business trip. I’d been dying to see Him after being away for so long, but to my disappointment, when I got off the plane, He called to say, He was stuck at work with a deadline. Instead, He’d asked you to pick me up. Maybe it was the long flight, but mostly it was you that made me reply, ‘If you can’t come, I’ll make it home myself, I don’t need a stupid driver’. Of course, when I turned around, you were standing right there, after eavesdropping on my not-so-soft-spoken conversation and fake-grinned ‘your chauffeur is here ma’am’.

His birthday was around the corner. I couldn’t think of a good enough gift to get Him. And I wanted it to be special. ‘What do you get a guy who has me?’ I asked. You named a book, which has gone on to become amongst his most favorite books. I hadn’t realized you read. Heck, I hadn’t realized we talked enough, for you to be suggesting gift ideas, and me to be accepting them. It was when He gave me the biggest grin ever when He ripped open the present, that I realized I couldn’t have gotten Him anything better. I turned around to smile thanks at you, but you were too busy stuffing your face with cake.

It’d crept up on me, I’m sure. How else could I not have realized we were becoming friends? The frequency of calls increased, the subjects, moving from just one question to long discussions. When did I start talking to you? When did I start laughing with you? When did you become among the first people to know anything that happened with me? He didn’t mind our friendship. In fact He was glad for it. I’m not of the stone-age mindset, but I wish for once He’d have a tiny problem with it. He didn’t.

Our jobs often took us to different cities. We spent precious little time together. I would miss Him terribly when He wasn’t here with me. Another place, I wouldn’t mind. But here, home didn’t seem home without Him. Phone calls, no matter how long, or detailed, could only comfort so much. You became the one I turned to. I’d often tag along with you and Her. Funny, I never wondered if She felt the same as you did initially, while hanging out with us. She didn’t seem to mind, and She and I got to be friends too. But seeing you with Her, got harder with time. Maybe I misunderstood.

The two of you together, always reminded me of the two of us. If not in how you were, then in how you were not. Mostly the latter. I always thought ours was a grown up mature relationship, and yours most obviously wasn’t. The silly arguments, and the mushy making up, the giggling and the touching, the wanting to know about every second of the other’s life- I thought we were way over that. Again I misunderstood. I openly made jokes about how childish you two were, but I was just being jealous. I was missing Him way too much. But I thought I was too mature to simply call Him ten times a day just to hear his voice.

You sensed something was amiss. You tried your best to cheer me up. It worked, but only when I was with you. When you weren’t around, my mind was even more confused now. Missing Him and you. I should’ve seen it coming at least then but I didn’t. i was just missing Him, and you distracted me. I knew this. Then why?

How did we end up there? How could I have misunderstood so much? How did I end up being so confused. I never stopped loving Him, I never thought any one else could ever take his place. Yet there we were. Watching a movie, one afternoon. Some stupid zombie type movie, none the less. I laughed appropriately at all the bits that were “scary”. I don’t know how it happened. Suddenly I was very aware of the fact that I wasn’t looking at the screen, but watching your expressions change. I smiled when you gaily laughed. I smirked at your disgusted expression during the zombie-eating-human bits.

But what got me back, was when you turned to look at me. First you were still laughing at some scene, then your expression changed to a smirk, wondering what I was thinking, and finally as realization dawned, your face dropped, and your eyes closed in disappointment.

‘This isn’t’

‘I know’

‘He’s my friend’

‘I know’

‘He truly loves you’

‘I love Him too’

‘I love Her’

‘I know’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘No, it’s my fault’

‘I can’t…’

‘I don’t know what I was thinking’

‘This isn’t’

‘I… know’

Song Recommendation: ‘One Slip’ by Pink Floyd

Note: The story is fictional, the idea is not. Maybe I can come up with His and Her part of the story. Kind of feel sorry for them.

Broken

Note: Apparently, I love drama.

I’m a hoarder. I love collecting stuff. Most of all, I love collecting tiny pebbles. I used to have loads of them. Picked up mainly at beaches. Different shapes, different textures, different sizes. Each one, unique. That’s what I liked best about them. I liked them all, but none of them were exactly the same as another.

One day, when the pebbles grew a little larger in number than I could manage with ease, I got a beautiful glass jar to keep them in. With the pebbles all piled up together, the glass jar seemed a pleasant sight to look at, with the different colors within it, reflecting light at different angles. I placed it right where the first rays of the morning sun could hit it, and the first thing I saw each morning when I awoke. And I smiled each time I looked at it. Slowly, but surely the jar began to fill up. More pebbles of more colors, shapes, sizes and textures. Each time, I thought one more wouldn’t fit into it, I’d just shake the jar a bit, and the pebbles within would move, to accommodate the new one.

Then one day, two things happened. I got a new pebble to add to my collection, but before I got to add it to the jar, I found out there were going to be guests coming over. The guests included children, which included a lot of running around, and into things, and my first thought went out to my pebbles. I wasn’t very keen on handing out my pebbles to them yet either. So I took the jar and I placed it on a very high shelf, where none of the little hands could reach for it.

All was well for most of the time, until my worst fears came true, when one of the kids, running amok (why aren’t there leashes for those things? :-P) headed straight for the shelf. In my minds eye, I almost saw it before it happened, but was dumbstruck. In slow-mo I watched the kid run into the shelf, and then bounce off its door and run out of the room, without breaking pace, getting away from the other kids behind him. I stared up where the jar, shaken from its position wobbled a bit, then stilled dangerously onto the edge of its base, before making its journey downwards.

I lunged for it, trying to protect it, but from across the room, my move didn’t do much good. I halted, suddenly, and closed my eyes just when it hit the floor. But I could not shut down the sounds that followed. The glass shattering, the pebbles scattering, the gasps of the people followed by their sudden silence. I opened my eyes, to the blurry (I was NOT gonna cry) mess in front of me. Each precious pebble I’d so carefully sought and guarded, there amongst bits of glass. I tried to salvage a few, but the jar had shattered into so many little pieces, I couldn’t touch a pebble without getting any glass in my fingers. My bloodied fingers finally made me stop, And I resigned to the fact that I could never have those back again.

Walked out this morning/ Don't believe what I saw/ A hundred billion bottles/ Washed up on the shore/ Seems I'm not alone at being alone/ A hundred billion castaways/ Looking for a home - Message in a Bottle by Police

I have that one new pebble that I hadn’t yet added to the jar. Maybe I’ll start over, or maybe I’ll add it to the trash bag with all the others.