2013

It’s that time of the year again, when you do an annual round up of all that’s happened, and make lists of all that is to be.

But you know what, I’m not going to, not this year.

Because 2012 was all about what was never meant to be. Enough that an entire life got ignored, goals were forgotten, rewritten, adjusted. And now, finally, finally it’s coming to an end.

It has to.

Because 2013, there is way too much to do, for you to have one moment of resting peace. 2012 was lazy and sneaky, and managed to leave all of life to you.

So, gear up.

P.S. 2012 did do one really good thing as it drew to a close. It kicked me in my face and reminded me just how much of a bitch it had been. And for that, I shall always be thankful.

The Bride

She looked lovingly at her dress, as it hung from the closet door. The satin, smooth and sensual under her fingertips, the net, so fine that she couldn’t help feeling scared she might damage it by a simple touch. But all those months of designing and trying had finally paid off. She knew she’d look just perfect, walking down the aisle, in that beautiful perfect dress.

As a tear slowly escaped from the corner of her eyes, a click resounded through the room, followed by a slow tiresome, cackling sound, as she withdrew the lighter from the corner of the dress, and watched her life go up in flames.

Under the stars

As the bike cruised through the Mumbai roads, slowly but steadily leaving the crawling traffic behind, she smiled at the wind brutally hitting her face. She didn’t know where they were going, and she didn’t care. All that mattered to her at this moment was them. Him and her. Him.

She took in a deep breath, trying to conserve his perfume in every last cell in her body. She didn’t know if she’ll ever get to do that again. And at that moment, she didn’t care. All that mattered was now.

They rode for hours, but the expression on her face at the end told him it had been worth it.

Before them lay an expanse of sand, for miles on each side, the sea thundering in front of them, and not a soul in sight.

Just the stars, the waves, and them.

She was scared, yet excited.

“I never believed Mumbai had a beach like this!” she gasped.

“I’ll show you things you never believed possible.” He whispered.

And at that moment, holding hands under the stars, with the waves as their witness, they both truly believed, they’d be together forever.

Tequila Sunrise

She took a deep breath, hoping to calm her heartbeat down, praying he couldn’t hear it. She smiled. It was all she could do to not show it in her eyes. As she got out of the car, she turned to wave goodbye, and her heart did a somersault.

She saw it in his eyes.

Something Good...

I looked out of the window at the scenery, buildings and dirt painted upon the still horizon. Mumbai had grown on me, but it remained alien beyond repair. The dull ache inside me weighed me down, nudging me to not move, come back to the bed, engulf myself in darkness and stay in. Everything beyond seemed pointless, worthless, too painful.

In a last desperate attempt, I reached out to the world.

I need something good to happen today.

I trudged through the day, the everyday drudgery swallowing me and engulfing any sparks of happiness that may have remained. At a time when all I needed was a direction and a reason, all I seemed to find were thoughts more depressing than the last.

I reached home, glad the day was over, dreading the one looming ahead.

And there it was, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, waiting, for me. The scrawl on the card next to it made me smile, and cry, all at once.

I hope this qualifies as something good.

She had barely ever met me. Rarely, had we had a conversation. And yet, over the years, we read each other’s blogs, and wondered how we went through time, literally next door, and never met or talked.

And then, one dark day, she decided, to make something good, happen, for me.

The Vacation Diaries - 3

I was drenched, for the nth time that day. Every time I felt I’d had enough of the rain, it rained some more. It was luck testing my patience, in a way she’s truly a master at. But I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Not this time.

The lightening made me look around the dingy hole I was sitting in. A scrap yard almost, built in the corner of the lanes housing some of the most happening places in Singapore. Yet here we were, sitting on discarded chairs, looking out at the boats dancing in the shimmering lights of the boat quay.

He let out a breath of smoke, the calm clearly spreading across his face. His face. He had changed, a lot. But then, so had I.

He breathed deeply again. I smiled, remembering how much I detested smokers. And how cruelly my life seemed to revolve around them.

For once, it was a relief, to not care.

It had been a long day. My feet hurt. My vacation was nearing an end, and the next day, I was heading back to everything I had run away from. And all I had was this, this moment, of looking out at the lit up sky, listening to the drunken laughter in the air, the sounds of music from the clubs throbbing at the back of my head, the rain thrashing against the make-shift roof we sheltered under.

We talked of our lives in the last thirteen years. We laughed at memories of games played back in sixth grade, looked surprised at how much people had changed over the years, and yet smiled, knowing, that so had we.

There’s a comfort in talking to strangers that can never be found in those close to ourselves, those who care. There is a sense of freedom in finally relaxing and being who you’re most comfortable being, because you know you really couldn’t care less. Because right now, at this moment, with this person you've met after years and will never meet again, it just doesn't matter. There is relief, in having no expectations, of making no explanations, in just, being.

We talked, some more, of lives which had never crossed paths and never will. He smiled, and took a deep drag. I smiled, remembering how much I detested smokers.

And it rained, through the night.

The Vacation Diaries - Part 2

I was on a vacation. A rather badly needed one. Mostly alone, with a friend along for certain parts of it. Here it is. My vacation diaries.

The day I arrived in Singapore, there was enthu galore. From me and my friend. For the sake of anonymity let’s call her A.

Evening of the day I arrived...

A: We can do something today (even though I’m dead tired after my day at office)

S: We should TOTALLY do something today (even though I’ve just had 2 hours of sleep, and have sat in a crowded crappy flight, and am proceeding to now infest your room with the bed bugs I carried from it)

A: What? What?? You want to go drinking?

S: I feel high on lack of sleep already.

A: Shopping?

S: It’s my first day! I won’t have money left for the rest of the trip!

A: Ooh, Night Safari??

S: Ooh, Night Safari!!

And so we booked the atrociously expensive tickets online, and headed to Orchard to catch the bus and commence our looong journey to the Night Safari.

The shows got cancelled due to the pouring rain that refused to stop.

***

Our first day at Langkawi. We arrived at the hotel, changed into shorts and sexy clothes like enthu cutlets and ran off to the beach. You know, that pretty crystal clear beach, the zillions of bikini clad foreigners, who we soon planned to join, the pubs right on the sand…

S: Where are all the bikini clad foreigners?

A: Where is…anyone?

S: The pubs?

A: Eeee…I just stepped on something gross.

Random man on the beach <whistles>: Woohooo, ladies, want to join?

I wish I could describe the expression on our faces at that time. We rushed off to the one and only occupied restaurant on the beach (where the racist side of both of us found some skimpily clad foreigners), and felt a little safer.

Calling it a windy day would be like saying Mumbai gets a little wet during monsoons. We were thankful we didn’t wear skirts, or we would’ve been doing a Marilyn Monroe for all the world to see without an ounce of her grace. It was all we could do to keep our drinks from toppling over.

We slowly forgot about the not-very clean beach and the weird catcalls, enjoying the strong winds, the sound of the waves, and the weird siren-like music in the background from some club nearby. Just as I was about to dig into my chips…

A: Is it just me, or is that a siren?

S: Hain? I thought it’s part of the music.

By then, it seemed to have grown louder and louder….along with an announcement in Malay… We ignored it. And ignored it some more. Until…

S: Dude, did they just say Tsunami?

A: <Pretends to not hear me>

I turned to the waiter.

S: Err, was that a tsunami warning?

Waiter: <grins>

A: It wasn’t serious, right?

Waiter: <grins>

S: Was that a drill, or an actual tsunami warning?

Waiter: No, no, don’t worry.

A: Oh! So there isn’t a tsunami coming?

Waiter: No, don’t worry. It’s just a warning. When tsunami comes, you see, big wave. You run.”

And grinning, he left to run after the flying menus, leaving a flabbergasted A and me sitting at the beach, nervously checking out the horizon.

***

A and I couldn’t stop grinning. We’d just been on an unexpectedly pretty cable car ride. We could still feel the remnants of the clouds on our cheeks. Langkawi was finally living up to its promise. We talked to localites, checked out maps, found out about a nice little hidden waterfall nearby.

S: So do we cab it? Or save money and walk it?

A: Cab it. No, wait. Walk it. No, wait.

S: It is pretty, and I love walking, and the hills and the mountains…

A: Do you think it’s safe?

S: Well, it isn’t India.

A: And we never do anything daring.

S: Walk it?

A: Walk it.

And so us two girls, travelling alone, decided to walk into the wild, feeling herculean and Xena-ish all at the same time. We walked for two minutes, grinning ear to ear, looking at the empty roads and the mountains and the dense jungles… Until.

A: Oh god.

S: Monkeys.

And that’s when we turned around, ran to the taxi stand and got in.

S: So much for adventure…

A: Shut up.

***

It was the last day of my trip. Also, weirdly one of the best. Universal Studios had us running around like school kids, squealing like girls, and shouting ourselves hoarse on crazy rides. We jumped around, we danced, we stalked Shrek, and posed with the Brendan Frasier lookalike. And we just couldn’t stop smiling. Until now.

Before us stood a monstrosity, of epic proportions, making us weak in the knees, just standing there, watching.

A: It’s too much.

S: Don’t look at it, or we’ll get scared.

A: Look at it! We can’t do that!

S: No, we have to! You can’t come all the way till here and not do this. We’ll never forgive ourselves.

A: Nope. I’m good at forgiving myself.

Just then the screaming reached our ears.

A: NO. WAY. Can you see the number of 360 degree turns that thing just did?!

S: WE HAVE TO! It’s on my wish-list!

A: It’s your damn wish-list! I want to still be alive to make my wish-list after this!

S: Okay. Here’s the thing. We are bloody phattu. We got scared of monkeys in Langkawi!  MONKEYS! We HAVE to conquer this!

A: I hate you.

S: It’s okay, I still love you.

We went in. There was no waiting time. Thankfully. I don’t know if we would have lasted the wait. Strapped in, I knew both of us were positively shaking. A turned to me.

A: Thanks for forcing me to do this.

I nodded. It looked like the nice serious thing to do at the time. More so because I wasn’t sure it was words that would have come out at that moment if I opened my mouth.

It was by far, one of the most amazing experiences of my life. When your world willingly turns upside down. And you can do nothing about it. So you strap yourself in, and enjoy it.

And scream like madmen.

And we did.

P.S. I did finally go to the night safari, and overcome any and every bad luck event I came across. Just saying.

Vacation Diaries

I’ve been missing from here rather long, but for once I have a very very good reason for it! No, I wasn’t being plain lazy, or obsessive depressive, or coming close to panic attacks. For once.

I was off on a vacation, a much badly needed one. One that I was excited and shit scared about, all at the same time. You see, I love to travel, I love writing about it, I love having the perfect partner to travel with. And as it turned out, I found myself without any of the above for various reasons. So it was decided, travel alone, I must.

Of course the destination chosen had to be one of the safest places on the planet, to ensure the parents don’t have a mini heart attack at the mention of the trip. And affordable, given the pittance I’m putting monthly into my bank account in the name of a salary.

And so it was chosen, Singapore it had to be.

And thanks to a friend who decided to join for a certain leg of the trip, Langkawi was added to the itinerary.

So here it is…

Vacation Diaries – Part 1

It took a week to pack. Literally. There were just too many questions. Did I want to keep all my hot sexy heels? Or my comfy sports shoes? Would I be roaming around in skimpy clothes? Or shut in the house reading a book in my pyjamas? For once, I just could not make up my mind. I didn’t know what I wanted from this trip. Was I running away? Was I going to mope in some strange house for ten days? Would I actually manage to get out? Talk to new people? Explore another country, alone?

There was one simple thought in my head. For once, I was going so far away, to a place where no one knew me, where I could finally just be, without a past, without a future, just be. Me.

Except I was no longer sure who that was.

Was I going to be the serious introspective anti-social girl who wouldn’t really talk to anyone new, and discourage those who actually dared?

Or would I be the sweet highly social girl who would talk to anyone and everyone and just want to know a little more, about everything?

Or a party animal?

Or an early to bed…early to rise types?

I could be…anyone.

The thought was exciting.

And scary.

P.S. I eventually packed anything and everything. I figured the decision of who I was going to be could wait for a more spontaneous moment. Yes, I decided a spontaneous moment. Oxymoronic, much?

The further you run...

Sometimes, you just need to run away

Far far away

But there’s only so far you can go

Till you’re dragged back to reality

And made to realize

That all that you ran away from

Was still right there

Compounded

Angered

Worse

Waiting

For you to get back

So all hell can break loose.

Life in a Metro

That’s what it feels like when you stay in Dwarka and take the metro to work, literally. You end up spending half your life in the metro. So love it or hate it, you’re stuck in it. For a good 3-4 hours of your day.

And SO much happens in a metro.

For example, if you’re not very fat, and don’t have an extremely menacing look on your face, chances are you’ll be an easy target for the thoda-adjust syndrome. It doesn’t matter that the seats are made for a fixed number of people, with indents marking the same. It doesn’t matter if there are already more than that many people on the bench to begin with. There is always room for +1. And you’re likely to be the one who has to thoda-adjust, namely, have the indent of the seat ride up your bum while someone literally sits on you. Literally.

Having said that, the fact that now there’s a ladies coach makes the metro journey much more bearable, given that you’re not worried about random men sticking to you anymore. It’s just random women now.

The fact that the ladies coach is NOT sponsored by Stayfree Secure came as a bit of a shock to me. Like, really?! Then why the hell do you have all those pink and white flowers all over the platform?!?!

And apparently, now that there's a ladies coach means that if I travel in a general coach, I end up the subject of taunts and annoyed looks. “They have an entire coach to themselves, still they come here!” Thanks guys. We wouldn’t need that separate coach to begin with if you could learn to behave yourselves. But now that we have it, apparently we need to remain jailed within it. Like, seriously?

Women sometimes make rather daunting co-passengers as well. Especially the demanding unassuming ones. And for some weird reason, there are a LOT of them. So the other day, I was sitting in the metro reading a book, and this aunty stood in front of me, and dumped an exceptionally huge purse on top of the laptop bag lying on my lap. Now don’t get me wrong, I really don’t mind carrying her bag for her, given how annoyingly crowded the metro gets, but I’d rather not be treated as a piece of furniture by her. I mean, we have men to do that to us, right?

Not only did she dump her bag on me without a please or a thanks, she then proceeded to open it on my lap, so that the handle and the flaps now covered my novel, and went on to luxuriously finish her make-up, completely oblivious to my exasperated look. I did consider objecting, or shifting my position a bit so that her bag drops, or at least to make her realize that there is a live human being in front of her. Instead I kept staring at her. And she kept ignoring me. Till I smiled at her and gave her my seat. Mission accomplished. Hers.

On a completely different note, I have a HUGE amount of respect for people who manage to catch a few winks in the metro. Really. It’s happened to me a few times during college years, when I’d manage to catch a corner seat, so I could rest my head on the oily glass pane and drift off to sleep…only to be jarred out of my sleep two minutes later with the announcement of the next station. And then the next. And next. For 32 stations. Yes, I counted.

But worse than the being woken up, is the fact that every time you wake up, you look up at the hundreds of squashed people standing in front of you smiling at the little trickle of drool that you were unaware of until that moment…

Aah...memories.

All in all, the Dwarka metro just stops short of being a Mumbai local simply because you can’t hang out from the doors, and are stuck without fresh air from the windows to take care of the numerous body odours you’re subjected to.

But that said and done, it probably never hurts to remember, that no one is in that metro because that’s where they would love to be at that moment, stuck between someone’s exceptionally huge…err…bag and someone else’s arm pit. They’re there just like you, because they have to be. So instead of frowning and fighting with that aunty and that bossy girl, next time, maybe try an understanding smile instead?

Hmmm....

Okay, who am I kidding. Some of those women are plain bitches. Use your elbows mercilessly. Period.

How can one not be a feminist?!

How can one not be a feminist?

When in one of the most developed nations

Politicians are anti-abortion

There has never been a woman president

And the perfect man is a dominating vampire / millionaire

When you read the newspaper every day

When our politicians say women should not be given phones

When chowmein gets the blame for turning men into beasts

When you see your maid come covered with bruises from the night before.

When you have your ass grabbed in the bus

When you’re too scared to stop to grab a bite after a late-night movie

When the clothes you wear are not what you choose but what you must

When you carry a pepper spray in your bag.

When you think twice before smiling at a colleague

When you grit your teeth at your client’s crass comments

When you let go of self respect and dignity

When you’re told how you must behave.

When the most common words used are

A slut

A whore

Easy

And blonde.

How can one not be a feminist?!

This post was inspired by my cousin, who had put up this question as her status message. And the depth of it just didn’t hit me enough at the time. But then it did. And the question seemed just that simple, just that frustrated. In this world, how can one possibly not be a feminist?

Memories and Some Randomness...

Where the hell is time going?!

No, that is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking, where the hell is time going?! And what the hell is happening to this world?! Like seriously?!?

In Meredith Grey’s scripted words, “We’re adults! When did that happen?? And how do we make it stop?!”

And just by the way, three people, yes you read right, THREE people in the last few weeks have told me Meredith reminds them of me. I don’t know whether it’s a compliment or whether I should be deeply troubled. Like really. But knowing me, I’ll take it as a compliment. Even if it is just the dark and twisties. But, I’m really not dark and twisty anymore (I buried that Shreya in some deep dark dungeon quite a few years ago), so it has to be the pretty, ambitious, and fun-loving Meredith right? Right???

Oh, I went off the topic. But take it as a warning, that might happen rather often today.

Yes, coming back to time and things changing. A few days ago, I found myself walking down the lanes of North Campus with an old friend, after ages. Lanes we had traversed a gazillion times during our three years there. Now, I’m madly, like madly in love with North Campus. I think I had some of the most amazing times of my life there. Just the thought of all those old buildings, the winter mist, the cheap food, the independence, the shady Chinese restaurants…

Except... wait. What the hell happened to those shady Chinese restaurants?! Remember the Soho’s, Noodles, Momo Point, Bon Zai’s in that tiny dirty naali wala lane behind bungalow road?? Remember the awesome shake’s at Keventer’s?? Like…WHERE????

That particular walk was depressing, to say the least. We ended up eating at Bercos (which from our student days we remembered as this AWESOME Chinese restaurant, where we could eat once in a while, if we were feeling very very rich). What we got was the slowest service on the planet, crappy food, repair work drowning out our voices, and music (the playlist was still from our school days…Bailamos…no, not kidding) turned up even louder in the hope to drown out the repair work.

Oh. Well.

In other news, there have also been times when the clock doesn’t seem to move. And getting through a day is an achievement in itself. But this blog no longer pays attention to that. Ok? Ok.

In the last few months I’ve met a lot of old friends, and made some new ones. There have been fun times and boring ones. And most importantly, a LOT of people have been making me get off my lazy and depressed butt and get out and actually have fun.

And, at this point of time, I would like to declare to the world, I am in LOVE with Vir Das. Really. Seriously. No jokes.

Oh, what an oxymoron.

And now that I’m back in Delhi, I’m finally beginning to see the actual city. For I have spent my whole life, well, at home, or north campus, or, well, at home. And there’s so much to see! I think I know more of Mumbai than I do of Delhi, so it’s like getting to explore an all new city. Just that this time around it’s not as a broke kid…and that helps.

And I never realized how much I missed Punjabis! I realized it once, after almost a year in Mumbai, when I was spent and disgruntled, I saw a sardar uncle once, and felt some weird amount of happiness rush through me. It seemed like such a rare sight, and made me homesick. Then of course, I realized I must look plain stupid grinning at him, so I walked off.

When I talked about moving back to Delhi, I was scared. So was everyone else. I have a pepper spray in my bag (Except I’m scared that when needed, I might spray myself by mistake!), and a constant painful vigil in my head. Except for one simple realization.

I missed my Delhi friends. I missed Delhi. It’s like coming home. Except, that’s exactly what it is.

I’m home.

P.S. I know, this post had absolutely no point or direction. But sometimes, neither does life. And you know what? It’s ok.

Dead Inside

I believed the world

A beautiful place

Experienced and loved

And trusted

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in people

For not everyone was

Meant to be bad

I believed

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in me

My strength, wit and

My intelligence

Emotionless I thought

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in you

My savior from this world

I thought I’d smile

Forever

I was wrong

But I lived inside

I believed in us

In destiny, love and fate

Soul mates
Meant to be

I was right, yet so wrong

Today, I died.

Of Dreams & Reality

It’s one of those times, when everything is just so perfect. All that you had always wanted, just within your grasp, and it seems so easy, so obvious, that it was meant to be. All those years spent thinking about it, imagining it, wondering how it would feel, all those years led up to this, this moment, this experience, this dream.

It’s perfection. Almost too good to be true.

And then your alarm shatters through the perfection, jolting you out of that beautiful reverie, bringing reality crashing down on you with the force of the strongest winds and the harshest waves. You search for the snooze button, hoping against hope to hold on to the last threads of your dream, refusing to let reality gain control of you, yet again. You cry out in pain, struggle against the rough grasp of the truth, and hope that somehow, just somehow, you can continue with your dream, untouched, undisturbed, unharmed. Yet, you know, even as you see yourself struggle against the grasps of reality, that somewhere it’s over, somewhere, it had always been just a dream, too perfect, too good to be true.

You wake up. You get out of bed. It hurts, but you realize you’re left with no choice. As the day goes on, you busy yourself, trying to rid your memory of the remnants of that beautiful dream, that perfect world, too good to be true. Yet, you find yourself reminiscing the feelings ever so often. You scold yourself, call yourself delusional, tell yourself to be strong and understand and accept what’s real.

Yet, you go to sleep every night, hoping against hope, to dream that dream, yet again.

My December

I sit, and I wait.

As the clock slowly ticks, crossing away each second, each minute, each day, slowly edging towards that time.

The eerie darkness, sunlight in perpetual hibernation, each breath condensing in the thick air, falling short of its purpose, yet creating beauty before its expected demise. The chill permeating your skin, entering your bones, making each movement an effort, yet an accomplishment in itself. Your sight, blurred by the constant fog. The shivering, the chattering of the teeth, the sharp pins and needles, and then the sudden calm as the pain gives way to numbness, a numbness that slowly spreads and consumes each inch of your body.

But most importantly, the numbness that consumes you.

As you step outside in the freezing night, where nothing dares move, lest it be identified as the wind’s prey. As each emotion fights its way through, fighting for survival, for the warmth, to be let out and dance through the world. As the chill slowly suffocates each, in its own relentless brutal way.

And then, you finally smile, feeling the stretch of your face from the effort, and yet it’s beautiful. You feel the chilling wind hit your face, freeze your nose, sting your eyes, so hard that it almost hurts, before you feel it no more. Before you feel, no more.

It’s a beautiful season.

Depressing for most.
Liberating for some.

I sit, and I wait.

Domestication

It’s a word that reminds me of an untrained dog, or something worse, like a cow running wild in the woods.

“Why is it doing that?” ask the bewildered villagers.

“Oh, it isn’t domesticated yet.”

And that really does explain it all.

Except that it’s a term that mum chose to use for me. Well, because, I’m 25. And a girl. And couldn’t be less interested in cooking.

I guess that explains it all as well.

So now that I’m back home, it was only a matter of time before Project Domestication was launched. It didn’t quite go in the direction either of us wanted, but we’ve reached a nice little compromised middle path with which both of us are rather satisfied.

So my dear future hubby, I might not be able to make daal tadka and ten types of veggies for you, but I should hopefully be able to appeal to your sweet tooth at the end of the ready-to-eat packet meal we’ll soon get used to devouring.

So that’s what’s new each weekend, and you know what, I actually look forward to it!

Last weekend was my Mum’s simple vanilla and two layered cake. You would be happy to know, that it wasn’t hard, it wasn’t burnt, and it wasn’t anything weird. It was, in fact, rather perfect.

The yum vanilla cake!

And the double layered cupcakes

Maybe I do have my mum’s baking genes.

Or of course, maybe it was simple enough for a monkey to cook, and with my mum watching over my shoulder and giving instructions, not much could go wrong.

But I choose to believe in the former!

Right now as I write this, there’s a lemon soufflé resting in the refrigerator. Fill you in on that one, well, once I figure out if it’s edible! Fingers crossed!

Hope

Note:

In some ways, this is a continuation to Fate. But then, if you ask me, I don't believe it is. Sometimes, it's all about believing. And I don't believe this is how Fate ended.

Two souls brought into this world

Meant to be, meant to be

Lost faith and yet found each other

And made their own destiny.

But with sunshine came the clouds

The rain not far behind

The moon hid forever

In darkness, they collide

He let the dark consume him

And waited for her to find

But where hope is deep imbedded

Life cannot be lived blind

The dark she couldn’t bear

The light was not his home

Separated by unsung boundaries

Entombed in their little dome

Never once did he ask her

Why she chose the light over dark

Never once did she tell him

Her darkness had left a mark

Never once did she ask him

What made his words sway

Never once did he tell her

He never meant it this way

Thrown together by destiny

Torn apart by fate

They struggled with each other

And within, each day

Belief can be confusing

For those who choose to believe

Enlightening and full of hope

Before it chooses to leave

What they never understood

Fate and destiny only go so far

Once brought together

Hold on, or be flung afar

Cruel is fate’s humour

Cursed from the start

Some things are meant to be

Some meant to fall apart.

True Blood

She was shocked at all the blood. She stood helplessly, ignored, as the hospital staff ran about frantically trying to curb the bleeding. Finally, silence filled the room, as the last breath escaped the bloody form.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, as she watched the nurse wheel her body away to the morgue.