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[myname-acrosthe-c]

My Last Letter-14thNovember25

It  has to be the 14th today. I will write my name in blood before the new dawn. Should these be the very last words to grace these pages by my hand, I have some things to say.

To end today was not a plan on a whim. I believe.

Perhaps it's faith….devotion even. For someone who advocates so well on these matters for others, you'd think that everything was all and well on my part. But it is to say that I know most about this matter rather. 

I've lost my words, then I lost my soul, my identity. I spent the time morphing into someone else, someplace else. I will not speak of the life before when no certain life stands to greet me in front. My life is determined by the memories and thus defined by my work. Now that i have chosen and am chained to nothing…what must i do to conserve all these thoughts and pain? I remember writing a little note a long time ago. It still exists but when all is said and done, I strongly believed that for anyone to cry or grief over me, or understand or ever love….i had to first DIE. Is that why I started writing so much? I still do not know.

 But I stopped…. If I write down mundanity for the next to come years, decorating each little page with a piece of me…what would remain? Mementoes collecting dust as I solely rot in my grave. If I write something that wasn't meant to be read, did I ever really write anything? Even if these pages never catch the glimmer off an iris other than mine, did I really ever exist? I lost my words that day.

My soul.

My identity. 

Some days I dream that they would make me soar. The windows are high and the moon is round. Solely the memories thwart me from flying. 

Somedays I dream, somedays I dont exist. 

Not a change would come should I not live.

These sights from a windowless room only I am privy to, yet the monsoon night air gives me company.

 Dream I will.

 Dream I will. 

Now what existence remains? What use are these words if I do not cement them away?

My heart weeps with each thump and I know not how to make it stop. Yet the only way to wipe its tears would be to….write my name in blood. 

[myname-acrosthe-c]

Have you ever been in love?

*Define love*

Despite all my mother's shortcomings, I've felt love from her when she scolds me without the usual malice in her tone.

I've felt love when I feed the cats that stroll the streets and it lets me touch its coarse dirty fur.

I've felt love when i snuck to my rooftop after a heavy downpour. Despite my clothes getting wet, with the air aound me still damp.

I've *felt* love

Isn't it human to love?

But love is a enigma. A multitude of definitions wrapped in poetry and prose and songs and art. Felt in touches, felt in a quick glimpse of the soul beneath our eyes

Love is a sick, festering emotion. It hurts to have it, yet hurts to let go. It claws in and stays no matter how much you carve it out.

So i haven't been in love but I've felt love all around me and that's enough.

[myname-acrosthe-c]

fruits from a windowless room

Has anyone ever thought about the way the world is? like really sit back, and just be? imagine, if we didn't have rain. the simplicity of the drizzle of the earth's lifeblood soaking and cleansing us with each drop. if the crows could never ruffle their feathers in the natures kisses, as they do. imagine if we never had the thunder? these magnificent flashes of light and sounds like it shakes the world, like the trees shake and tremble under the might of the breeze, strong enough to make us fall. what is the world without the rocks in the sky? what is the world without the small puddles the first rain of the season leaves behind as memoirs of a rain that'd always come, for the first of a harvest. what is the world if it weren't for? at moments like these, my bones feels so hollow, that they ache. what am i in this world made for me? no one. there are so many sights ive not seen, beyond this misty days, there are so many scents ive had no boon to breathe as the petrichor of the red mud after the rains, there are so many feelings of discovery, of sense of self. of love for me, more than i have of this world there are so much i haven't lived, so much i fear that i might take my own before i even have the chance. done with the way, i find these temporary excuses in the way i cant go without breathing all the things i haven't done.

what is the world if i haven't truly lived in beyond this miserable existence. a truth that only comes when i sit in the middle of another mother earth's caress, each thunder sending sparks straight to my heart. a reminder. a want. a need.

what am i doing? other than miserably failing to live.

[myname-acrosthe-c]

my mother's greatest gift was birthing me this way.

I do not love.

For I know that one day. I might be too much. my issues and problems, and flaws might be too much.

The tantrums that I threw whenever I thought I was being less loved, just to know you still cared, would be too much.

That I, at face value, would not be worth the hassle.

All my burdens would not be worth the effort.

For the day I would smile at the person who helped me lessen them, and they smiled a little less, for it was unsightly.

I fear that the second, I open my heart. To feel. To touch. To think, To open up and let go, they would know.

For there were prettier people with no strings attached. Who were worth the effort and didn't have so much baggage. Who didn't have scars on their skin, and didn't cut back meals because they wanted to make up the body in excuse of the face.

And that day. It would be the day my heart would start after so many years. After such a long time. After the rust. And the dead would beat.

Once.

Twice.

Before shattering with no hope of ever beating again.

I fear that the day I decide to learn to love, to bare my heart for the mangled, torn mess that it was, the person who smiled at me so sweetly would decide it wasn't worth the time, effort and patience to teach me how to love.

[myname-acrosthe-c]

MY EVERYNIGHT DREAM

( i had entered a writing competition, with the topic of " write about a character who has no memory of the last 24 hours". I didn't win that one, so I'm posting my work here :) {i cant blame them though, like wtf is this even} )

I'm posting the first part only anyways

My hands were rotting, my skin though intact, had weird welts raised onto them. There were thousands of miniscule particles moving underneath my flesh, I realized with startling clarity. There was only movement underneath. They were digging onto every one of my innermost orifices. And my body held onto them as if a mother would, tearing myself apart to feed them. 

Something itched. Just below my ear. It wiggled and wiggled and wiggled till I was forced to remove the parasite. I pulled on it and it came out. A black worm, unlike anything I have ever seen. It resembled a maggot, yet it was not it. It was something completely mine. I was fascinated with it. It wriggled  around until  it  squealed itself back into my skin. Leaving a red welt in its place.

I shook my head from side to side and there it was.

My parasites slithering and worming themselves to each and every crook and crevice of my brain. they munched onto all my memories.

Some flashed before my eyes, before they were digested into nothing. I look up from the fog that covered me, only to find myself in a desolate landscape.

A strange feeling fluttered in my heart  as I looked to the far distance. Hidden behind the evil fog loomed two massive stone structures. One lead to the sky, the other deep underground.

Beyond stood black of the blackest night. An never ending chasm of unbridled dreams and hopes which all lay dead and at its feet. They resembled staircases, yet their destination exactly was unknown. 

They loomed large and menacing, incongruous with the surroundings. The  murky grey skies stretched as far as I could see and so did the land.

Thatches of grass strewn upon the ground of which I woke up. I had no idea how I had gotten there. Or how my little parasites got into me.

Perhaps I should have been much more skeptical and had freaked out by now, but an almost psychedelic haze had muted and shut down most of my brain.

Maybe it was just the creatures doing.

Maybe, maybe not.

I look back at the stairs, so large with no end in sight, and despair filled every single pore in my body.

Longing, so much longing like I've never felt before had my heart in a vice. It sears pain right through my very being and shattered my broken soul. 

I look away and attempt to breathe, yet then I realize that I already wasn't. I tried to inhale, yet all it did was stir up the beings who now called my body home. 

Was I dead? The probability seemed so unprofound that a small laugh broke out of my mouth. And then another and another, and suddenly all I could do was laugh. I clutched my stomach and fell to my knees, inhumane cackling spewing from my mouth.

Something had lodged itself into my throat, something upset by my fit, and my laughter soon turned into hacking. I fell face wards towards the ground and coughed till whatever wanted to be free, was, from my throat. 

A baby shoe. A pink baby shoe, covered in shiny black tinged mucus, lay before my eyes. The sweet grass on which I lay upon was soon forgotten as I touched the shoe. 

“ ”It’s a girl!”, perhaps that's what upset my mom more, that i hadn't been birthed a boy who could've taken care of her. From her abusive husband. Or perhaps if I had, I would have turned out like him. But, no, my mom had birthed me a girl, right into this wretched world.

And with her partner and my father absent from the room, from the hospital, lurking somewhere else, my mother had let out a cry that shattered my bones deep within and rattled my soul.

It was a cry of agony. I wasn't her savior anymore. And she didn't have the strength to be mine when she herself couldn't be hers. So, my mom did what she could. She left me and ran. "

[myname-acrosthe-c]

""My heart cries every night, in fear that nothing would change, that my life in this despair would remain the ever same.

My heart cries every night, at what used to be, how I lost these privileges in a game of deceit. My heart cries every night, yet my eyes refuse to let these tears falls, for no matter how much my heart cries every night, I can't be the girl I once was.""