She

The run

It was her birthday, she was going to be nineteen. Eagerly waiting for love to enter her life, hoping with every passing year that she would be saved.
It was a typical day, just like any other. Everyone was jolly, greetings were exchanged, gifts taken. She thinks to herself I'm young, I'll find love.
Didn't feel like dressing up ever, even on normal days, looking in the mirror she saw a strangers body. Like a guest in a hotel room, her life on autopilot, like room service.
Blew on the candles of the cake, breathing in the fruity aroma of the cake. Taking a bite, feels so good. The day went by, she didn't find anything significant to say about this particular birthday but conversing with her parents, because they usually didn't feel like entering her mind. Probably that's why she was so hungry for attention, love, mistakes and life. Nothing significant, but we had to start the story somewhere, red lips and some mascara for the special occasion. She loved wearing red lipstick, and some good perfume. Probably because she associated the male gaze and attention she got as communication. Hardly getting any response from her parents, no inspiration, no love. No rest, years and years of pain. Objectified herself to a point of delusion, where she was sexually abused and tortured multiple times, but did she didn't have a clue. Too little, too blind to understand, living within, rotting away in a mirage, waiting for miracles but preparing for oblivion. I asked her, what does life feel like? What does she want to feel? She tells me that for years building upto the moment in time this question was asked, she desired love but wanted pain. Wanted to disappear, wanted pain. Now you're going to ask me why she'd say something like that, but ask yourself, don't you know yourself, we are created this way. If you understand, you understand otherwise you don't know enough pain to drown yourself in. Anyway here's an excerpt//

people who are caged in the darkness fight
to get to the other side,and when they do
the light blinds them. Big and small things
astonish them,geniune smiles,care and love.
The most love, because it is so intense it
chokes them instead of freeing them.And all
they can do is watch in lament, and
addiction is them destroying themselves out
of the habit of being destroyed.//

She had the will and the energy to overcome this disastrous pain but how? It seemed so impossible to her, indeed it was. How can the blind, create colour?
Her mind kept on wandering around, to the unknown, danger disguised as safety. She had always thought of men and their needs, ways to get attention. An compliment, she liked to flirt. But she was confined. So, it never really worked out for the hungry men around her, thankfully God had her back. Deep inside, within she felt a fire burning and it was so hot because she was the flame, the red and the blue, she was sometimes scared she'd burn herself and die( not literally, but theoretically.) In all essence the fire was all consuming. She was a scared, scary person. Who felt ugly, and bloated. Who was the most pained person she knew. She has quite an essence I tell you, powerful being man, but power, is fire. You need to be very careful around it.//

I can breathe fire into your insides.
Just trust me when i say this.I know i might be your transverse orientation, your cosmos or even your constellations you try to glorify with the art drenched in your soul.They all might seem so perfectly evident in front of my existence.
I could be the light you see,like a moth you'd follow me in a daze like a deer stuck in headlights not knowing, where you walk.Until you stumble upon my pearly gates somehow loving the grace. Curious and caught in a trance of the madness.But I'm the fire and to live like one is what i desire.I'd rather burn too bright, well i believe fire's got a dominating edge to it. But for my hungry soul the price is infinitesimal so i let the ice break. Set yourself on fire or reduce everything around you into ashes. Holding the strength of making the best beauty out of your pieces left now shattered by the mind numbing pain. Burn too bright for this world, burn the brightest you ever can. But as they say the brightest flame lives the shortest so dont ever expect me to stay. Because I'm on the path of my self destruction, my beautiful demise.I'll please your eyes trust me but never follow me into the dark for I've been there and its hard to come out. I've seen the blood on the walls and the coke stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans all ready to be aroused. I've kissed my own blood, I'm a demon of an angelic creature incarnate. There are places in my mind that are so pure that the echoes of my gods Drum past as they lay in swathes of gold and riches bleeding their royalty with preservence that thunders at unjust yet still with a composed demeanour loves knowing the deservance of love. And there are also places in the back of my head that bleed the walls with my mind.Most of the nights i find myself bleeding. The blood pouring down my mind onto the floor. I'm the flame that lights the flame of your life. I'm rather a shriek of the insides i believe. I melt the walls you build you're the paraffin wax to my fire. You're solid, you hold yourself till you melt down everytime losing pieces of yourself in my fire. My love exists, but my fire breathes you molten till you're on the verge of devastation. The last dregs of blood still within this flesh of yours. The last bit of sanity left in your mind. And we'll all die in the end, some by fate, some by choice, some by their fires, some by their heartbreaks. Some keep on dying daily. Thats harder. The flame will go out once the paraffin gives up, Alas.
Because you can never replace the way you loved someone you had. You can replace people yes, but you cant replace the way they made you feel. Thats why I think i die little deaths with the people i do love, sometimes. By mistake. //Random musings/Welcome to my mind//

"My phone buzzed, the notification bar tells me I've received another message, this guy seems quite nice. I'm quite hopeful." But he's flirting my dear doll and you don't see it. Attention isn't love. The cigarette fumes surround her and she speaks to her friends, but doesn't understand what she's saying neither does she remember any of it, obviously because she doesn't understand it. Her neurotic system's not mentally in sync and quite underdeveloped. She's sad and she's naive. She's scared but she's doing this, not quite knowing why, she throws her favourite perfume in her bag, doesn't have any money on her. But yes stupidity has heights, twenty rupees in her pocket and she is out. Free, in the night, in this new world full of glory. Remembering a similar, unsuccessful attempt, she had made when she was young. But this time she got out. As a young child her only friends were books, romance novellas, these books were her world, And later music. Art was her best friend. She as a kid, had a very very wild imagination. You can understand why, she had never grown up, faerie tales were real. She had packed all her books in a large bag, thinking of leaving her house as a maybe nine year old. She reeks innocence I'm telling you, she's thinking about living on the road, roadside actually. Where she would set up her library and have amazing adventures with people who loved books as much as she did, she herself narrating them stories and sharing love and art in the world,as little as she is.
"The breeze is cool now, it's getting darker, and I've lost myself even more. But I think I found my, for I saw the reality as it is.

I am walking on the streets of New Delhi and I've had almost fifty people ask me 'kitna legi?'
Meaning, how much do you want, I'm not scared, because I'm convinced this is destiny. I'm convinced that love will find me, I'm convinced. I sit back on the ground and a drunk man parks right next to me. Gets off his bike and asks me. Who I'm waiting for. He slurs and throws his beer can in the bushes behind us, and sits next to me. Asks me, who I'm waiting for, I reply briefly abashed by his reeking self. "Love" I say and he tells me that love doesn't exist. I'm so happy, that I'm finally finally finally going to find love, he must lead me forward because he came to me. I didn't approach him. It was natural. I didn't have to beg, he suggests that we get moving because I didn't feel like spending my lifetime on the roadside anyway so I agree. And of course he was leading me to love, he reeked of alcohol and was drunk. Didn't look exactly like love but, it's possible he's leading me there. I sit behind him on his bike and we drive all the way to the nearest McDonald's.
He says you must be hungry it's quite late and this is the only place that was open at this deadening hour. We order two burgers and fries. We started talking, see I'm not scared. I'm just so happy, I tell him I found nirvana at such a tender age of twenty. I tell him to follow his heart, I tell him to do good, be good and God will listen, he always does. Because he's listening to me, finally I'm free, finally I on my way to find love. He says he works all day and drinks at night often because life is sad, I tell him even if it is, there's always a silver lining to every story. I tell him that he can be anything he wants to be. The possibilities are immense, we are born to live, and we are free if the war Inside us is understood to be a mirage. That one must believe in miracles, as I'm a miracle myself. He doesn't say anything. There's not much to say about that night but, his bike broke down and we walked around all night. He did almost beg me to come home with him and even tried to touch my nubile body, that it's too late and I must be tired, but I was just waiting for love, must be around the corner by now. I didn't feel tired, I felt ecstatic.