Eight months ago.

A few days ago, I listened to the voice mail you left me a day after we broke up.

In it, you asked me to go fuck myself. I still remember that night. I still remember how excited I was about my new mail box service and how you managed to spoil it just like my day. I remember wondering how someone I chose to show all my scars to could be so cruel. 

A month ago, I called you at 6 AM when my mom wasn't home. I expected you to ignore it, but you answered it and I felt my heart fall down to my knees. You probably thought it was because I missed you, but truthfully it was because I had prepared myself to fight back, and instead, I asked you how you were. You said you were fine, I smiled and hung up. That was the last proper conversation we had. 

I made sure to let go of you. 

Fast forward two months, I still wonder how you are. I still wonder if your brother recovered from that accident or if you adopted a new cat. 

If you ever hear me say this, you would probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet (which I rarely did. Very very rarely)

You'd probably think I think these things because I loved you and/or I still love you, that I still want you. But that is not the case. 

You see, eight months ago, I would've given anything to make sure you were happy. And now, I remember you as a person I shared myself with. 

But it is not eight months ago.

It is now, and now I don't miss you. 

And maybe things will be better someday. Maybe you will understand that I'm not what you think I am. And maybe, we will start being friends.

But for right now? 

Go fuck yourself. 

Crazy babblings.

Fuck!

I am so mad.

I wish I were a good writer.

I wish I could say things about you, your nose, your smile, your skin. God your skin, your touch.

So that someone, anyone could understand how fucking crazy I am going but all I've got is sometimes I want to reach over and grab your hand, and sometimes it's at 3 A.M in the morning, and sometimes it's in the middle of calculus class.

And my heart is beating fast because I saw your face in a dream

And it's so fucking crazy.

Our first kiss

All I know is you have dead black eyes which light up when you're about to kiss me. You turn your head sideways towards left, and lick your lips. The end of your lips gets curles into a smile. You cup my face in your hands and the room falls down. You move your hands slowly along my arms while you kiss me and god! How lost I was in that kiss. The space between us explodes. My arms were around your neck and your hands couldn't bring me close enough to you. I kissed you and I realized I have been starving. Maybe it lasted a minute or an hour, all I knew was that kiss and how soft and safe his touch felt on my skin. 

And I started missing it as soon as it was over.

Who are you?

Mayday Parade-Miserable at best.

Day: whatever.

I walked into my room angrily and shut the door behind me. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself. My big eyes staring into my own big eyes, my freckled nose, my thin lips, long neck, collar bones, small chest, long fingers, thigh gap, and thin legs. I tried to read the mind of the person standing behind the mirror, because I had no idea what was on my mind either. And I felt ugly.
"I hate you. Oh god. I hate you so much. You are the ugliest person I've ever met." I said. I did not feel the kind of ugly that makes it hard for others to look at you, but the kind of ugly that makes it hard for others to stay with you. I felt ugly on the inside and if you've never felt that, be glad. It is a horrible feeling to feel.
I rushed towards my cupboard and threw all my clothes on the floor. I wore my white gown, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Still ugly.
I felt on the huge pile of my clothes, the window was open and the sunshine fell on my face, trying to make me look away. But I didn't.  I stared at the sun, lying there, like a dead body. So cold, and still. I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't.. think of anything. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel a single thing. All I knew was I wanted to cry. But I didn't.
I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel beautiful on the inside and out. I wanted to feel loved. I wanted to feel excitement. Thrill. Happiness. Anger. I wanted to feel everything, instead I just laid there staring at the sun and wishing it would swallow the earth, so that everyone's forced to start a new life. I swear, I could stay on my pile of clothes till then.
My mom came into the room, and saw me in my white gown. She fell right beside me on the pile of clothes, and looked at the sky.
"You'll be okay, you know that, right?" She said, staring at the sky.
"Yeah."
"What's wrong?" She looked at me, and placed her hand on my shoulder.  "Why are you wearing the sad gown?"
"Because I am sad." I replied still staring at the sun.
"It'll soon go away." She said.
"I don't feel beautiful, mumma. I don't feel..anything at all. I wanted to feel beautiful and this gown has always made me beautiful. It didn't.  I wanted to feel beautiful, I wanted to... feel something." I replied with a breaking voice, and hid my face in the clothes.
I wanted mumma to go away and not talk to me, because I knew if she said another word, no matter what it was, I was going to cry. My mouth was shaking. I didn't want her to see me cry.
"I am gonna make something for you, call me when you're done."
And she left. I smiled but started crying as soon as she left.
I did not know why. The day was fine, in fact more than fine. Everyone complimented my outfit, I was smiling the entire time. I had no idea why was I crying.
I guess sometimes you just cry, not because of a reason or because you want to. Because you have to.

I'm sorry, okay?

Every time I want to write something, all that comes into my head is "I'm sorry". I'm not even sure what I'm sorry about.
I'm sorry that I'm bad at beginnings, I'm pretty bad at middles and ends too, so I'm sorry about that as well. I'm also bad at distinguishing a beginning, middle, or end. I'm sorry.
Hello, how are you? I'm sorry. Meeting new people isn't easy for me. And I'm sorry if we could have been best friends, or fallen in love, or you could've made me a better person.
Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Maybe if I wasn't myself too much, maybe if I wasn't so trapped in myself, and maybe if I wasn't choking on my silence,  we could've been more.
Maybe then the beginnings wouldn't be so difficult.
I'm sorry I ruined everything.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

A part of me died that day.

He made the face that he makes when he's trying not to cry.
"So, here's the fifty rupee note." He faked a smile. "What does it say? It says we were never really serious about each other" I looked away trying to hold back my tears. "Oh, don't pretend like you don't remember the bet?" He looked at me like it was all my mistake.

--TWO YEARS AGO--

We were standing at the beach. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" I looked at him and smiled. "Yes, it is" He smiled at the beach and looked at me.

"I have to tell you something.", he said clearing his throat. "I'm listening." I said, as I stared at the beach. "Look at me." And I did. I could see fear in his eyes. 

"There's a strong chance that I like you, and if you're not very busy this weekend, I'd love to, you know, take you out", he said, and looked at the sea like he couldn't believe what his mouth just spluttered out. 

"Take me out where?" I looked at him, with a half smile.

"It's my sister's wedding, and you could come with me.. as my, you know, girlfriend" 

I swear I saw his cheeks turn all pink. He was blushing. And it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen.

"You know, that I don't want anything seri.."

"Yes, you don't want anything serious. I know"

"Sure, then, what the hell?" I threw my hands up in the air and laughed. He laughed along.

He bought me balloons, I drew a broken heart on the fifty rupee note, and said "The day we find this, we'll be glad that we didn't get too serious with each other." He laughed and looked at me like he knew this day would come. Like he knew I'll regret it in the future.

--------

"Yes, I do. I do remember the bet." I said, still holding back my tears. 

Then, he gave out a smile. That smile is still in my veins, breaking the part of me that wanted to take back everything I had said or done. The part of me that wanted him to ask me to shut the fuck up and kiss me. The part of me that KNEW we'll never find anyone else.

He handed me the fifty bucks, and kissed my cheek.

"Fifty bucks, and you'll thank me for this when you meet your future husband.", he whispered in my ear, and I felt a tear roll down his eye, on my cheek. I couldn't imagine a second without him and he was already making plans about our separate future.

He did love me, though. But he cared about me too much. He was pushing me away, because he said I could do better and I'll never be happy with him. Even though, I told him I can't walk away from him, I loved him too much to fuck up his life, by staying or to lose him by forcing us to hang on until we hated each other.

So, I let him go. 

A part of me died that day.

Am I going crazy?

Do you ever wonder about things that you think no one wonders about, but they do? I mean, when you look at the reflection of your friend in the mirror, it looks weird but when you look at your reflection, it looks just fine? 

Like, when in a train, I look at the railway tracks through the window, and I thinkabout the people who made them and how hard they worked and what a big damage can a single mistake can cause. And when the train changes its track from the first to the second and then to the third,and ahead after a while you see the dead end of the first track and a train on the second track, and I wonder what would've happened if the train I am travelling on was on the first or the second track. 

I also wonder about the small hut made in the middle of an abandoned ground and you can see no one there, no shops, no parks, only the people living in that hut, and I wonder who takes care of them, who feeds them and who talks to them? 

Sometimes I look at people on the train or bus, and I wonder if they're going somewhere or they're coming from somewhere. And if they're running away from someone or if they're running towards someone. What is it that they're running from?

 Sometimes when I listen to the siren of an ambulance, I wonder where is it running to and whoever it is running towards,I hope they are okay.

 Sometimes I look up at the stars and I wonder if someone's staring back. 

And there are times when I wonder why people who are afraid of heights are afraid of heights,and I think it is because some miserable corner of your soul thinks you'd jump and let gravity do its work. And at times,I think about love, how so many people in love. And I wonder is it even real? I also wonder if mirror tells the truth, if people look at me and see what I see in the mirror. 

I wonder a lot about what goes inside the head of people. I wonder what goes on in your head when you listen to me talking or singing. I wonder what is going on in your head right now while you're  reading this. I wonder what goes on into people's head right before they die or kill themselves. I wonder what goes on into the head of people who self harm. I wonder if I really exist or is it all just a good-bad dream. You ever get this feeling? When you look into the mirror and you feel like you're not what you're looking at, like when people look at you, they see something else and mirror is a liar. I wonder a lot. All day, all night. And sometimes I wonder if I am crazy for thinking about all these things that do not matter to anyone . And the next moment I start wondering if these things matter to people.

It's like a labyrinth I am trapped in. Every time I try to get out of it, I end up losing myself all over again.

 How will I ever come out of this labyrinth?