Spahallolia

when it all began

"is is necessary?" I said boarding the train slowly with a tensed look on my face. Although I'd be the first one to jump on the train if anyone would have noticed for the last few years how excited I was everytime we'd go for something like this. I would be normnally squeaking and gleeing and would dance around like an idiot as if im boarding on a train to heaven . even the dusty and odd seats of the train would be my throne. I'll sit like an angel which is not exactly how others would describe my sitting position full of movements and clumsy twists and turns and complains about something making me itch my bum and awkward poses with my best friends but it really didn't matter. Even if I'd get tanner and almost black, well im not racist but this surely needed to be mentioned!!! Even if I get that fine line of brown and white on my legs and arms which ill eventually regret. Ill even curse myself for not carrying a sunscreen , I'll whine about the heat and the warm winds smashing my face , I'll cry about the disgusting oily food , I'll get angry at our teacher for not being fun ,I'll complain about the insects and bugs and the stinky washrooms even if I won't be bathing for five days! But........ I'll never regret it. Atleast that was what I used to do since ages but this year I'd rather be facing finals in the middle of the school year but not step on that train. Not that I am not adjusting , infact I am so sdjustable like clay. I get shaped and molded so easily and just like that I get broken effortlessly. I may be shiny and fun to mold and everyone would like to try their hands at molding even I would......when I was a kid I would've been so happy if I ever got a chance to play with clay! Do something new like make a pot! I'd be so proud ! and I know it's all fun and games until you actually do it. Just as beautiful things can turn out and make a masterpiece out of a dull, boring material using nothing but hands it is also to be kept in mind that the hands that can be so divine can also be destructive and they can shape you , sculpt you so magnificently and keep you in museums where people admire you but they are also the hands that can simply break you, crumble you and throw you in the dirt. Then why is it that we let any foreign pair of hands touch every part of ourselves , let us shape us, mold us and later destroy us? But dear had I known the answer then why would I be writing this?

Things haven't quite been the way they were. In a way nothing has changed yet everything has. It makes no sense just like my life does. It is just going on and on without an aim and I am content with it because the heart travels where it wants, sometimes with people, sometimes with memories and sometimes alone. Living an aimless life doesnot scare me but leading an emotionless one surely does. It will obviously ache and hurt and make you feel miserable but once you live with it it just lessens over the couse of time. There's nothing wrong with it but in another way all of it is wrong. You hurt, you bleed, you cry for days and days alone. You suffer, you whine but you cannot complain. Your heart tears apart, your tears fall but you cannot fade. It just goes on but it never stops. No, the pain never goes away ... you just don't feel it anymore. You are naïve and hopeless and that's when it starts to get scary because even when a tusnami of emotions is flowing inside me looking for a crack to escape I am just blank on the outside. No, those waves don't calm me . no, I am not addicted to pain but what I am is broken and what is sad is that I just let it eat me. I let it consume me to the day that it doesn't matter if it goes or stays. I remember asking myself to just simply let go! But only if it were as simple as that. If only adding the word simply would make it easier. I wished I could ask this pain to go away but one day I realised atleast I can make this pain stay even if I couldn't make him. The him that is behind my every word, every action and every reaction . the way I am . the irritating and depressed me. The emotionless and boring me. The sad and sadly, the bad me. He took away all I had. All I could give and left me with nothing but a broken heart and a band aid.

I would have crept the depths of hell for him and all he would care about how hellish I looked that day. I would have fallen for his flaws but all he would do was point out towards mine. I would have showered him with love but all he would do was complain about being wet. I would have given him all of me and sadly, he would have still said I never gave enough. Ironic, isin't it ? how one can give all of themselves and it would still be not enough and im sorry that I was never enough. Never good enough for you and your sky rocketing standards. Your moody behaviour and guess what , now you've turned me into someone who thinks is not good enough for love.