Category: Thoughts

I Floated. Then I Hit The Ground With A Thud.

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Do you know what it’s like? When your toes curl? When your heart races? When your soul calms down? Do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re the purpose of another human being’s existence? Like nobody else in the room will ever matter more than you do? Like the luckiest being alive?

I do.

Have you read a Mills & Boon book? The rich and handsome Italian man falls in love with the almost-average girl that brings trouble where she goes? That was my story. Everyone involved in my life knows bits and pieces of this story. But nobody knows the truth. I never trusted anyone with the truth. This truth.

I was your typical teenager. Born into a dysfunctional family. I had no sense of permanent relationships. Terrified of commitment in my own way. I ran from things that mattered. I enjoyed the temporary. I enjoyed the boys that swore they’d never love me. There was a comfort in knowing that. Because I knew how to be prepared for the temporary. I knew to believe that people would leave. I didn’t have faith in the ones who promised to stay.

I was visiting my father in another country. A friend in that city introduced me to him. On another occasion, I would have flirted with the guy. But not him. Even I knew he was far too out of my league. He was handsome. Not the kind I was used to. Snobbish and cynical. Grudgingly atheist. He too came from parents that would have been happier apart but chose to be miserable together. He knew the fear of promises and forevers. We became MySpace friends.

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22nd July 2010. I needed a lunch buddy. He said “Yes.” We got subway. He called it a date. I didn’t say No.

It’s summer romance. I’ll leave and he’ll forget about me. A guy like that is not interested in me. He just wants to have fun. Fun is good. Fun is safe. Fun it is.

I landed back home after the summer. I turned on my phone and there it was – “I hope you got home safe. Call me the moment you can. I’m counting days till I see you again. Yours truly, R.”

I still grin when I think about it. It was our inside joke. “Yours truly.” He was my Shakespeare in disguise. I had fallen in love with a man that was far too good for me. He was mine. And not just for the summer.

We did the long distance thing. For two months. I’d cry and he’d make me smile with stories of the adventures we’d go on when we were together again. If love could be a person, it’d be him. He introduced me to all his siblings and best friends. I was “the girl he’s going to marry.”

When I got insecure, he got on a flight to visit me. When I got upset, he stayed up all night talking to me. And the best part? When I missed him, he missed me.

Hand written love letters. 8-hour skype calls. I wasn’t just in a relationship. I was in THE relationship. I had something every girl dreamed of. I had a man nobody ever gets to meet. I felt something I’d read of. A feeling of floating on the clouds. I was excited yet calm. He was my storm. He was my warm cup of coffee and cozy book during the storm. He was everything I’d ever wanted. He was everything I’d never thought of. He became the one I wanted to hold on to forever.

And life, for the most part, was beautiful.

But Fate never did like it when that happened.

There is this moment we all go through in our lives. The moment we find ourselves unable to help as we watch the ones we love suffer. We can support them. We can stay on the phone for hours so they feel better. But we can’t fix the feeling that hits them the moment we hang up. We can’t fix their problem.

His father got very sick. He moved back to Italy. The long distance became longer. His emotions grew messier. And I was useless.

There are particular emotions you feel at certain moments that you’ll never forget.

I’ll never forget the inability to reach out and hold him as he cried for hours. I’ll never forget my heart break as I couldn’t help him when he needed me the most. I’ll never forget the regret of not being there with him when I should have.

He lost his father after a long struggle. As a result, he lost himself. An adrenaline junkie.  He drank out of his mind. He slept with every woman that went his way. The man I loved became someone I would never consider being with.

His sisters told me he’d gone off the edge and I should give up. But I couldn’t. Because you don’t give up on a relationship because it got difficult. You don’t give up on someone you love because they’ve gone off the edge. I fought for who we were. And this is the moment where the world will begin to disagree with my choices.

After being unreachable for four weeks, he drunk dialled me. At 2:37am on a rainy night.

“Hey babyyy. Guess what? I was just with three women at the same time! Aren’t I the coolest?” I saw a man struggling to fill a void while running away from it. I smiled and asked him to get home safe.

After fighting with me for days, he told me he was too drunk to know where his home is. He’d forgotten his address and was unable to identify which of the cards in his wallet had his address. I had him hand the phone to someone standing next to him and requested them to guide him home. The woman who loved him but never got the opportunity to be with him became my helpline. She showered him. Had him change clothes. Put him to bed. And waited for him to sleep. I still find myself owing her one for that.

We were in the same city again. We had a fight. We went back to his place and his anger got the better of him. It was a fraction of a second. I told him he was overreacting. The next moment I had my palm on my cheek. It was the first of many times.

A date after forever turned into the beginning of the end.

10th September, 2011. 12:45am his time.

“I need to be without you. You’re holding me back. I can’t go through this with you anymore. I can’t be tied down to someone like you. I need to be with me. And lots of other people. It’s time for me to be with other people. This is what I want for my birthday.”

I hung up after telling him something he’d told me a little over a year ago. Something he told me right before he said the words I never thought I’d hear, for the first time.

“If you ever have a wish, I want you to know, I’ll do anything to make it come true. Because I love you. And there’s no changing that.” I gave him his wish. He was no longer tied to me.

I didn’t cry.

I met him a few months later. He was sober. He was dating the one who wanted him. The one who rescued him when I was in another country. The one I owe. He called me that night. It was like old times. He asked me to say Yes. Said he’d give up everything and come back to me. But that was his guilt talking. Not his heart.

I’ve heard people dissect my relationship. Call me weak for staying when he got abusive. Some said I was an idiot for leaving someone so wealthy and handsome.

A few months ago, I met a friend. We talked about dating. We talked about him. She made a comment.

“He broke you. He became a monster. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

I thought about that days after the conversation.

I fell in love with someone nice. Someone kindhearted. Someone caring. He believed in me. He believed in us. He worked for the greater good of so many. He took over his younger brother’s tuition because he could. He gave away money every month for the elderly and the adopted. He was made of something most people don’t understand. He loved so freely. He didn’t have expectations. He didn’t expect you to love him back. He never hurt people. He was careful with emotions.

He made me ambitious. He gave me a reason to work harder. He made me comfortable in my own skin. Everything I am today is because he walked in to my life when he did. Everything I will ever be, I will owe to him. He was my pillar of strength.

But life caught up to him. It threw him a curveball he didn’t know how to tackle. He gave in to the pressure. It didn’t make him an abuser. It didn’t make him an alcoholic. It didn’t make him a cheater.

It made him human.

He didn’t break me. He made me better when I was at my worst.

And I only wish I could have done the same for him.

Why?

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Why did you do it?

Why did you choose to be you for the first time?

Why did you make me want to pull all my walls down and open my heart up to you?

Why did you make me want to believe in fairytales?

Why did you let me fall for you?

Why did you say no to being mine?

Why did you break my heart into a million different pieces day after day?

Why did you hang up when I needed you the most?

Why did you walk away when I wanted you to stay?

Why did you tell me about this girl you spoke to at night that you really really liked?

Why did you make me feel like I was her?

Why did you ask her out when you told me you weren’t ready when it was me?

Why did I cry like the world was falling apart?

Why did you feel like the only lifeline that could’ve saved me?

Why did that feeling fade away?

Why did you choose to leave?

Why did I want that distance more than you did?

Why did my love for you get buried under a life I wanted to build for myself?

Why did everything become nothing but a memory?

Why did I have the ability to choose me over you?

Why did that choice feel okay?

Why am I okay?

Without you.

With me.

Chennai Isn’t Just A City, Madras Isn’t Just An Emotion

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I was sitting in an auto, stuck in traffic in the middle of Mylapore. I looked at my mother and swallowed my tears. “Forget it. It’s fine. I’ll stay here. I can leave another time.” That’s the moment I said goodbye to my life and officially moved back. On another day, in another place, it wouldn’t have been the same. But there, in the place I’d seen and admired for years, it felt like things would be ok.

We often move out of the country to study. We find work and our feet stand still. We find a place to live and eventually, someone to live with. It’s home in all senses of the word. Yet, there’s this moment. This moment when you walk out of Anna International Airport to the sound of taxi and auto annas asking you where you want to go. This moment when you can hear the car honking all the way from the roads. This moment when a particular feeling envelopes you like you never knew it would. A feeling of belonging. A feeling of coming back from a vacation. Sure, you’re coming from home. But this place that you’ve landed at, it’s home.

A friend of mine who moved here for a while asked me, “What’s so special about your city?”

I was silent for minutes. Not because I didn’t know what to say but because I didn’t know where to start.

When I say Mount Road, the guide books will tell you about the never ending traffic, loud noises and the fancy malls. But that’s not it. When you’re driving down that road, look to your right. You’ll find history in every building you pass by. This city wasn’t made with concrete. It was made with art.

When you say food, it’s quite normal for that friend of yours who visited a long time ago to suggest some “decent” restaurant. But that’s not our food. Our food isn’t made by that chef whose name you’ll never know. Our food is the one that akka or anna sitting in a plastic chair carefully places on your plate while they tell you the tales of the city’s past and their predictions of the political future.

When they say socializing, I know you think of parties and business meetings. But that’ll never be it. Socializing in my city is sitting on those steps with other foreign return / aspiring maamis for hours on the end while secretly staring at that cute guy whose mom had probably dragged him to the temple. And have I mentioned that there’s a temple or two in every street with the kind of architecture that the modern man will consider “too time-consuming and almost impossible”?

It’s a bit of art, a bit of delicacies and a lot of smiling, helpful faces.

But that isn’t all that makes this city what it is. It’s more. More than words can ever describe. More than I can ever tell you. More than anyone will ever know. It’s home in a way that a home will never be.

It doesn’t matter if you’re from a different planet, you’ll feel welcomed. It doesn’t matter what your choices in life are, you’ll feel accepted. It doesn’t matter who you choose to be, you’ll find your crowd.

The story of who this city is will be different with every person that lives or visits here. For the ones who come with a dream, it is a helping hand. For the ones who come with tears, it is a shoulder to lean on. For the ones that come giggling, it is a friend to play with. For the ones who’ve lived here forever, it’s the loving arms of a mother that’ll always welcome us back with a smile.

And no matter what I explain, it’ll never do justice to this city.

Because Chennai isn’t just a city.

Madras isn’t just an emotion.

It’s home.

And more.

Happy Madras Day!

It’s Just a Piece of Paper

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The glamour industry is known more for its divorces than blockbusters. Two of my favorite A-list couples just recently filed for divorce – Ben & Jen and Gwen & Gavin. The tabloid article had an image of Gwen in her wedding dress, looking absolutely happy and it got me wondering..

What if divorces didn’t exist?

What if the moment you get married, there’s no out? If there is a problem, the two of you have to discuss it and sort it out. You have to find a way to work through your issues. And no, I’m not talking about marriages with physically or emotionally abusive spouses or serial cheaters. I’m talking about the normal couples who reach a point where they simply think “We have too many differences. I want out.”

I’m terribly afraid of marriage. Not because I don’t want to be married but because I’m afraid that someday it will end. I’ve said it before several times, the end of me will not be the moment my career comes crashing down or when I lose a loved one. The end of me will be the moment I hold divorce papers in my hand.

But what if that was impossible? I’ve seen so many people in my life rush to get married. My best friend got married after only knowing her husband for 3 months and I know that when in love the person doesn’t think of ever getting divorced but should there be a law that would never allow divorces, do you think the person would think twice before making their decision?

And very honestly, what is it about signing a paper that kills a relationship that has been built over the years? Through various struggles that have been overcome?

Several years ago, when my mother was holding divorce papers, my dad’s mother walked up to her, hugged her and said, “You are not my daughter-in-law because you signed a piece of paper. Our relationship will not end because you sign a paper again.”

That divorce never happened and there has been nothing to worry about on that scale since but my grandmother’s words never left me.

Am I someone’s wife because we sat in front of one hundred guests and got married? Am I someone’s wife because I signed an official paper that states “You are now husband and wife” ?

And does my relationship with this man just end because I sign another paper that says we are no longer united by marriage?

Does one piece of thin paper hold enough strength to turn every fight, every argument, every struggle, every moment, every kiss and all the love insignificant?

If not, then what is it about a divorce? I know I’ll hear a lot of people telling me that marriage is complicated, you have to think of your happiness and a divorce is unavoidable at times. But why?

If there didn’t exist that piece of paper, what would you have done?

Would you have simply walked out? If you knew that that particular piece of paper did not change your relationship, would you find a way to fix the problem? Would you have stayed?

Or would you have still packed and walked away?

I’m not experienced. I can barely hold a relationship together. But I’ve been raised believing that the concept of signing a paper mutually for the beginning and end of a partnership belonged in the corporate world for business deals and not for emotions.

Not for a marriage. Not for a relationship. And definitely not for love.

Am I wrong?

This Isn’t A Happy Ending. It’s Not Even A Beginning.

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I don’t know how to express this emotion today. I’ve been trying to find the right words but I just can’t.

Have you ever looked at someone and thought “You’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m not even one step close to getting there” ? It’s how my heart feels today. It’s not jealousy. It’s not hatred. It’s a feeling of longing for something I can’t explain. An emotional freedom to be who I choose to be without fear.

I write this with tears in my eyes because I am so ecstatic for so many that have fought for decades over something that shouldn’t even be considered a privilege. For the incredible souls that have waited all their lives to do something their brothers and sisters were able to do, not because they were any less in love but because the society decided to deem their emotions Invalid.

Today, a part of the world took one step forward towards Human Equality and I couldn’t be more proud.

Screen Shot 2015-06-27 at 12.41.34 pm Today, it has become more blaringly obvious how many steps behind India, as a country, stands. Today, it has been shoved in my face that while someone out there gets to look at the person they love and say “I do” irrelevant of gender, in my country, I still can’t say “I love you” unless it’s to a man.

And I can’t help but cry as I look at the joy on every person’s face half way across the world because this is a joy I doubt I’ll see in my country for a very long time. The joy that gives them freedom to be who they are. The joy that lets them live as they choose to. The joy that will allow them to look into the eyes of the person they love and know that they can be married just like every other couple in this nation.

And how much can an LGBTQ community fight with a society that has made up its mind and refuses to accept change? When we ask for a change in law, the government doesn’t discuss with us. They make up their minds and pretend to listen to what we have to say. How can you arrive at a successful conclusion when, at the beginning of your conversation, you’ve already lost?

We recently had #YogaDay. It was picked up across the world. I couldn’t stop thinking, what is the point of a healthy body if your emotions are still locked up? It doesn’t matter how much yoga or exercise we do everyday, because unless we wake up comfortable with who we are, we will never feel happy or calm. And right now, we’re not all comfortable with who we are because most of our emotions and relationships are still illegal. And did I mention it may lead to a ten-year-imprisonment?!

Marital rape is legal. Marrying the one I love isn’t.

I can’t imagine waking up and having to lie to the people I care about everyday of my life. I can’t imagine not having the ability to hold hands and showcase my love to the world. I can’t imagine not being me every single day of my very existence. I can’t imagine what thousands across this country are going through right this very moment. And I can’t understand why we’re not doing something more about it.

Because I don’t just want to be #ProudToLove. I want to be #ProudToLoveWhoeverIWant and until we get there, this isn’t our victory. It’s not even one step towards it.

My Reason To Write

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I’ve been feeling a little lost lately. In a sea of tones and styles I adapt everyday to take on my career as a writer, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to sound like myself.

On a local blogging community, when I asked for help, someone said, “Think about why you started writing.”

I was 6 when my cousin walked in and said she’s going to be a journalist. I was not sure what a journalist did. I didn’t know how to pronounce it. But at that moment, I told myself ‘This is the dream’ !

Over the years, the idea of a journalist didn’t seem so appealing but I never stopped wanting to write. I failed every class in high school, I always passed English. I began writing my first book when I was 14. A cheesy love story about the girl with a dream. I still can’t believe I let my friends read it.

When I was upset, writing became my mental health specialist. It healed me in ways that people couldn’t.

When I was happy, it became my secret friend. I could pour out everything for hours and not have a care in the world about judgemental behaviour. When I was a teenager, writing was my one true best friend. If my parents didn’t understand, if my boyfriend didn’t text, if my friends were being bitchy – I could just always write about it. When I saw the man, who I believed was the love of my life, with another girl on his arm, words became the shoulder I leaned on.

It’s almost ridiculous to think I gave up. For a while there, I told myself it wasn’t for me. That I was meant for something more conventional rather than creative. But life caught up with me.

At my worst, I turned to words again. This blog became my sanctuary. The people I got to connect with. This is my world away from my world. This is where I am true to myself because social situations may fail me, but words never did.

I began writing my thoughts, troubles and tales. It was supposed to be my personal diary on a public platform.

But along the way, something changed. Something inspired me. I started hearing people tell me how they’d needed to hear what I’d written. And I felt something. It made me want to be a writer again. It reminded me about my first poem. It reminded me about something very emotional. It reminded me why I began.

And it wasn’t a lost cause. It wasn’t random or silly. I didn’t write just because I needed an outlet. I didn’t write to make memories unforgettable.

I began writing my first book when I was 14. It was a cheesy love story about the girl with a dream. She struggled. She fought her way through life. She chased her dream with all she had. And she made it. I wrote that book because I wanted to give hope to those who didn’t have it at that moment. I wanted to let people know that if you fought hard and refused to give up, you’d find your dreams, no matter what. I wanted to inspire someone to chase their dreams.

This is my reason to write.

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I began writing because I believed that words can change the world. That it can change lives.

And I wanted to prove it.

I will.

It’s A New Day..

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I want something bright. That was my first thought process last week. It’s getting too dull and I want something bright. Maybe because I have started looking at things a little differently and have come to the understanding that when you look at something bright, it somehow feels better. But I just had this need to change the way this blog looked.

I began experimenting with themes and colors. I couldn’t quite understand what would work. I wanted the option of widgets and other pages to exist without overbearing the writing. Believe me when I say, I had been switching themes until the very last minute.

And as I began scouting for pictures for the header, I came up with quite a few:

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Though they all defined who I was and what I liked, none of it was quite what I was looking for. So I paused as I tried to understand precisely what it was that I found myself searching for and it hit me.

This change that I’m trying to make on this blog is more than just a visual one. I want something fresh. Something bright. Something similar to what I feel every morning.

And when I found this, I knew my search was over.

Loud Thoughts Voiced Out (with spaces, yes) is now:

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Shot by Joseph Barrientos and found on Unspalsh, this header is just the beginning..

And I know I’ve been slipping but I assure you, moving forward, I will have posts up every alternate week.

The content will remain as it always has. This will still be my space and all you beautiful souls will forever be the people I will trust with all my heart. And yes, I will still struggle to add as many images as I probably can (and miserably fail). But I just felt like it was time for a change.

The old theme and the way it was felt perfect at that point in my life, but right now, this is more of how I feel. Like the title suggests..

It’s a new day..

It’s brimming with possibilities and love.

Sending some your way,

Poornima

a.k.a, LoudThoughtsVoicedOut

The Monsters Behind Masks

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If you’re reading this, it means I’ve used every last ounce of the courage I possess to press Publish..

Maybe it’s because I’m finally old enough to see it. Maybe it’s because, for the first time, I’m retracing my entire life. Recollecting the moments that forever changed who I am.

I saw a movie yesterday. The girl looked at the guy and said, “I was 7 when someone asked me if I wanted to be with my mom or my dad.” It shouldn’t have mattered to me. I shouldn’t have cried. But I couldn’t help myself. Because I was 8.

When I tell someone how insecure I’ve become as a person because of the way I was shoved in the middle of a struggle to save a marriage, they think I’m being too sensitive. I almost tell them they’re seeing it wrong. They’re looking at the 22-year-old analyzing that moment. But I wasn’t 22 when it happened ! I was a child ! But I never say it. I smile small and turn away so they can’t see I’m hiding tears.

There are moments in a relationship when I look at the guy and wonder what would happen if he could see inside my head. If he could see the way I see life. If he could read my thoughts. Would he run? Would he choose to never come back? Would he think I’m crazy?

There are moments when I wish someone could understand it. There are moments when I don’t understand why anyone should.

They say it’s amazing when you finally figure yourself out. When you learn what makes you, you. But what happens when the person you are is someone that’s holding on to all her darkest fears? With bruises turned permanent scars? With the need to be loved but never having the ability to believe it?

What happens when every little thing about you comes from a place you never want to go back to? When you realize your entire life changed because of the one moment you had no control over? When there is a constant battle between the guilt for allowing yourself to be drawn into a mess while arguing that you didn’t know what else to do?!

Do you stand up for the child you were or hate yourself for not knowing better?

As I think through all the relationships I’ve had, I’m beginning to decode patterns and it’s like a nightmare playing on repeat as I realize I’ve done the same thing over and over again, wrecking every chance I had at a happy ending. Every time I was so close to it, I let it stop me. I let myself be pulled back. The fear that I don’t understand. The fear that stopped me from ever moving forward, turning this tunnel into a never ending hole of doom.

I wonder what would happen if I could look at them and tell them how it feels like a lost childhood. How in the process of letting them have what they have right now, I drowned. How they’ve made me terrified of commitment. How I run when I feel too much while still craving it because I believe in leaving before I’m left. And how I’ll never stop believing that people leave.

And how, in that moment, when everything I wanted was right there, I couldn’t nod my head yes. I couldn’t walk into the light. I paused. I struggled. I lost.

But maybe that’s just the way life is, isn’t it? Each with a struggle of their own. Not many win. Most of us lose our battles. We give in to whatever it is that consumes us. We let it win. We learn to live with that loss. We learn to put on a mask and hide behind the person the world would like to see. The one that’ll blend in. The one that won’t draw questions.

Someone asked me recently if there was a reason behind the playfulness he sees in me. He felt like the light reaching out. An opportunity to walk out of the dark. All I had to do was trust him with the truth. And I wanted to tell him. This is my mask. This is the way I relive my childhood while still running away from it. This is the person I became when I sat on a couch at my aunt’s house, grinning broadly while crying inside. This is me blending in.

So I smiled at him and said, “No. I’m just a little immature. Nothing else.”

NEED came a while ago..

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It’s a dream. A dream many would find so simple. But in his world, it’s a big one. His mom picked up a third job to help him. His dad works all day, everyday, to try and give him what he wants. He puts in so much effort. He wants to make his parents proud. He wants to give them a better life, a better world. He repeats his mantra to himself every morning, I’m going to turn this around for them. I can! Or rather,

He could have.

Today, the world teaches you to think “positively” and turn yourself away from the face of negativity. We’ve become so focused on this that our positive thinking is now just ignorance towards the things that matter. And I don’t know how to make sense to a bunch of people that break the internet over something as irrelevant as a photograph of a dress with #TheDress. But I’m going to try. And I’m never going to stop trying.

Because “I donate a lot of money for charity” isn’t good enough anymore. Because his parents were looking forward to the day they could go to his university and watch him graduate. Because his parents went to his university to identify his dead body among 140 others.

Because I’m terrified that the level of ignorance is directly proportionate to the increase of dead innocents. Because we as a society are empowering people to get away with this by not shedding enough light on something as important as human life.

Because I’m not a blue and black dress. And this post is never going to be as relevant as optical illusion. We cannot break the internet. Not the problem. Not the dead university students. Not the thousands dying everyday for no fault of theirs. Not the selfish that cause this level of destruction of human kind.

People often talk about the tyrant that killed so many innocent people through a harmful gas. Little do we realize, for the one monster that died, there are a hundred more today. Every one of them claiming to have a reason – the religion, the race, the spirituality, the tradition, the culture. So what about the human being?!

Paparazzi gets paid thousands of dollars for a picture of a new celebrity couple. Did you know there are pictures of the dead students from Kenya? Every one of them more disturbing than the one before. But it’s not gossip. it doesn’t get the world going. it’s not as pretty a sight as two celebrities who constantly wish for privacy. How can someone not see why the entire concept of this is so unbelievably wrong?!

But what if it changed? Just for a day. 24 hours. If every celebrity in this world chose to talk about nothing but war zones and gunfires and dead innocents. If for one day, the paparazzi published nothing but news. If for one day, every government head in this world used every ounce of their power to track down the monsters that create such tragedies. If for one day, someone drops the gun and refuses to fight the war. If for one day, the loving parents could have their son back..

We’ve waited months, years, decades. We’ve hoped for world peace. We’ve prayed for world peace. We’ve created campaigns. We went on strikes. Until we put our hands in the air and gave up. We turned our faces away because we told ourselves, “What I’m doing is not going to save the world.”

We focused on better things like the weather and the Box Office. We cried when Paul Walker died because he played a bigger role in our lives than some kid holed up in a university room that called her parents to tell them she hears gunshots and doesn’t believe she’s going to make it out of there alive.

She was right.

And we’ve waited this out for a long time now. We’ve told ourselves that when they want our help they’ll call us.

But we’ve turned away for so long that we didn’t notice when the want came. When the want transformed into something more desperate. When the evil destroyed families. We were drowning in new age music, we didn’t hear the loud scream of the mother who saw her baby die before her very eyes. We were buying that new pair of expensive denims, we didn’t see the thirteen-year-old get raped. We were reading our favorite gossip spread, we didn’t notice the girls that got kidnapped for wanting to learn how to read.

We were so busy living our lives, we didn’t turn to them when their want came. We were so caught up with our problems, we didn’t pay attention when the want was replaced with need – the need for help, the need for support, the need for protection, the need for someone to look at them and see what they’re going through.

The need that is now turning into death counts.

And you’re still waiting… for what?!

The Fear of Falling

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There are these moments in life. These moments when you see someone for the very first time and you feel your heart skip a beat. Not because you’ve fallen at first sight. But because in that instant you know, with time, falling for this person would no longer be a choice.

I met someone for the first time recently. He caught me off guard and if only I didn’t know better, I would have said the skip of a heartbeat was from feeling startled. But it wasn’t. It was the moment when I saw trouble.

Ten seconds later, I felt my heart hammer. Because I knew. This was a trap I was going to walk into, willingly.

There are three kinds of people when it comes to circumstances like these – the ones that never take the first step forward if they knew it was trouble, the ones that would walk in a little and then choose to back away because they know it’s unhealthy to their heart and of course, there are people like me. We know it’s trouble. We know how this ends. But we will still keep going with the hope that this will be different from the last time while always knowing deep inside that this path is taking us to a place we’ve known before. A place that’s going to emotionally cost us a little too much than it’s worth.

It’s been a few months now. We get along quite well. He’s one of my closest friends. And I feel that pit in my stomach because I know what’s happening.

We have so much in common and yet, we couldn’t be more different if we tried. We want the same things from life. Just not in the same way. We’d be right for each other but it won’t last. And somehow, I’m still here. Because I enjoy the time we spend. I value the little things that only I know. And beyond all, there is something about finding company that’s been where you have and understands the nooks and crooks of all the emotions you feel at very specific moments.

Which is precisely why, at this very moment in my life, I feel nothing but fear. I’m afraid of falling for this person and ruin a friendship that I hold dearly. That I’m going to make this awkward. That we’ll never get back to this place of comfort again. And I’ve thought of the million things I could do to stop this including the middle of the night ridiculousness that is “I could always move to Mars!”

But quite honestly, I don’t think that’s going to work. I’d miss my dog too much.

So I’m going to do what I do best. I’m going to sit back and hope this goes away. That this turns out to be different than the rest. That what I’m feeling is not the hint of a crush but rather a fondness for a friend.

And if it doesn’t..

Well, you’ll probably find a blog post about heartbreak within the next year.