Fights

He clenched his fist and yelled at her, "I know. I get it. You're fucked up.", while she stood there panting, angrily. "Yes. I know, okay? You're fucked up. I'm fucked up. We are fucked up, aren't we?", he said as he gave out a chuckle. She still stood there, panting. Staring at her with eyes burning with anger. He continued, "You're impulsive. Short tempered. And a total bitch.".
"I am not a.."
"But you get under my skin.. You act like you hate me one moment and can't live without me the next. And I know I never get anything right, and that I don't deserve you.. But God I love you."
She looked at him and titled her face. She did that every time something sweet happened.
He held her face in his hands, "I have loved anything so much. I don't need money, or booze, or one night stands.. All I need is right here in my arms."
They pecked.
She said, "So, you love me?"
"More than anything."
"Okay."
He carried her in her arms and the fights they had never lasted more than 30 minutes.

For the Anon whom commented on 'but I'm mad at you', Thank you.

My attempt on describing broken hearted feelings

Fuck! it's a mess. I'm a mess. 

Six months ago I used to have the universe inside me, and I never let go off that spark that I had in me but since I let you go, it's gone. I seem to have missing something I never thought I had anyway. 

I didn't think it would be so hard to be so far away and remember how I spilled coffee on the white sheets, and you were so angry but I kissed your lips and you cleaned all of that yourself? I didn't think I would remember all the memories so clearly but I guess that's my curse. I need you. And I need the way you look at me. I need you to need me and I need you to keep needing me. My eyes hurt and remember how you used to kiss my eyes whenever I told you they hurt? Maybe it's from all the coffee I've been drinking to keep myself awake because all I see when I shut my damn eyes is yours. 

I am in the bar where we first met; remember how you held my hand under the table and I spilled my beer on the table? Six shots later, I'm still staring at my hands trying to remember how it felt like when they held your face.

You held me when I was shaking and couldn't make proper sentences to explain myself. Where are you now? It's getting bad again and I don't want to live a life where I can't have you.

Note: A very special thanks to the anon who requested me to write something. You have helped me in more ways than you, and thanks a lot. I haven't been writing lately and as it turns out, I can't say no when you ask me to write about something. So, it'll help me a lot if whoever is reading this blog would comment whatever they want me to write about, and I'll try my best to do it for you. Thank you.
                                                                                         

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFUCKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIFEELNOTHINGAAAAAAAAAA

A girl who hates change.

How dull the life that never changes,
of a girl who hates change.

Stuck in the body that she has torn down,
Everything is lost and its no where to be found.
Her Saturday to do list filled with soft pleas,
And in her stern handwriting she writes,
"Die or leave the house tonight".

How dull the life that never changes,
of a girl who hates change.

She thinks, she thinks, and she thinks all day,
You'll forget what it is like right now, they say.
But what about what's happening here? Right now?
She writes, "Shake the frost from your ankles",
"And run".
"Die or leave the town before sun".

How dull the life that never changes,
of a girl who hates change.

Now she's standing on the terrace,
thinking of all the people she has embarrassed
Hope is no where to be found.
She writes a note and puts her diary down,
"I'm sorry mom and dad, but it's a cruel world to live in", it says.
She found it better off quitting than counting days.

The dull life which never changed,
of the girl who hated changes,
did it ever have a purpose?
I guess we'll never know.

Maybe

Maybe the next time we see each other won't be astonishing,
Maybe it won't be worth writing a great novel about,
And oh, how much I wish it could be.
But I wish we'd realize.

Maybe the next time we see each other won't be fireworks,
Maybe it will be insignificant and common,
And oh, how much I wish it wouldn't be.
But I wish we'd realize.


Maybe it will be the two of us staring at each other across the road,
with the street lights flickering,
And oh, is it ever gonna happen?
But how much I wish we'd realize.
Realize how much we've missed everything, all of it.

If only I could find a way to start this book

Enola yelled, "What is this? What are we doing? How long will it take? What are you waiting for? What.. If you love me, Arun, you don't love me in a way I understand."

And if you promise to stay conscious, I will try and do the same.
-Bright eyes, Lua.

But I'm mad at you

I love you but I'm mad at you.
Does that even make sense?
This is new to me.
To know that I have the ability and the right to be mad at someone and know that it doesn't mean things are over.
That it doesn't mean things are irreparable.
That it just means that I'm mad, but God, I love you.
I love you.
Now leave me alone.

Sylvia Plath said, "If we expect nothing from anybody, you're never disappointed.".

But it's never easy.

I'm rarely mean to others. I have never in my life made fun of anyone's body or pointed out their flaws-not even as a joke. I have never laughed when people stammer when they speak something on the stage for the first time. When I was in school, a girl vomited on my dress because road trips made her sick and I held her hand through it. 

I might have not been perfect, and yes, I have made a lot of mistakes. But I don't deserve this is all I know. 

No one deserves this. 

I really don't. Why is this happening? 

When will things be better? 

Will everything be better off without me? 

I want to feel normal again. It happened almost 6 months ago and I've been carrying it with me and it's growing inside of me. I'm never truly happy. I'm always thinking about it. ALWAYS. 

I know I may not make sense right now... But I just want to leave..