Turnings that make Circles.

That day in 2006, when we all sat together on the roof top of the beige building. Eating plates full of biryani, as though we would never get to sit together and eat rice again. Sadly it was the last time feeling as a single entity, as being ourselves and no barriers of pretence stood between us. It wasn't about how we looked or if we chomped or not, it wasn't about you and me, them and they. It was about us, all of us. Worrying about how distance might tear us apart, woes of how we didn't want to let go off each other. We never bothered bickering about anyone, because we didn't know anybody else around. We were like infants, not recognising anyone else except the people we saw everyday. We belonged in that fairy story, where there was a witch with her followers and her den and there Was us, the peasants; where the foliage was thick and in the corner was a pond, where orange fish swam. The forces of evil couldn't even scratch us, but the distance ripped us apart. W...

She dreams of a person, she's never seen before. In her sleep, she's untied to her Stranger, does not feel the responsibility of being faithful to a person who might never show up. This new person from her dreams is taller, dark and his eyes are overwhelmingly innocent and beautiful. In his arms, she fits perfectly. His grasp is perfect, not too tight and not to loose, just the kind where your head lies on his chest and you can hear his heart. You can hear his synchronized chest beat racing faster as you trace your fingers through his lush black hair. The background changes and they're on a sandy beach, on some island, if she was to guess a place it would be near Hawaii. His soft palms clasp her hand, he pulls her close, close enough to breathe her breath. His arms wind around her waist; she flexes her head against his topless chest. He gently pushes her chin towards him and stares into her lifeless eyes. Smiling and barely kissing her forehead, he tells he wants to swim wi...

My serenity, you don't want to listen to my bull shit and knowing that particular fact, I still talk to you, isn't that just fucking pathetic? I know, I am pathetic and that disgusts me even more. I loathe myself more, each day. Why can't you fucking say, you don't want my crap. You don't love me, you don't have to listen to me. You're not my mother. I know everything there is to know about you, I know things about you that you don't even know, I know. But you don't know me. Even if I would look into yours eyes, screaming everything there is about to know about me, you wouldn't know me. I want to write to you, and somehow I wish it would mean something to you, of all the things that have happened, of all the things that never changed . If I ever muster up the courage of going so far away from you, that you would long to hear my voice, long to hear of me from someone, anyone. But you see, it's what my heart has made my mind create this illusi...

Anonymous, this is what I wrote on a piece of paper, one day. I wrote this on the 25th of June, I think. Grey old car, a silly girl with apparent impish behaviour, sits in the driver's seat, thinking where to drive next; perhaps a left turn. To much happened in this week. Too much said about her immaculate love for someone, heart bled open to him again; someone who didn't even say, "I love you too". I hate you, because you're not anything like you used to be. I love you, because you're my everything and more; you're my safe ground, you are the person I can talk garrulously about the things I want to hide six feet under, you're the one I can tell my woes of sleep because you're the holding my hand. Your the reason of my sanity and insanity . 25th June. Happy Birthday. Here are the things I was supposed to say on the birthday card I got got for you, but didn't because my 14 years old best friend doesn't exist in your soul anymo...

Stars illuminating the darkened night sky, like drops of blood in a drained heart. Every cell's every nucleus dessicated of energy, to rebuild, to survive. Everyone has a moment in life, where they're happier than ever. When your captivated with so much life that, when someone tells you, it's going to end one day, you don't believe them; you don't believe in death. When I'm with you, I feel like I can die and that would be alright, alright. Breathe in and breathe out, steps followed in order, or could be in reverse, Breathe out, breathe in. Madness is a gift, I own. I can drive for miles in the heat and not think about anything, I even forget to look at the person's face sitting next to me, even though they're audible. Betrayal by one person I never expected. Yes, blamed without evidence, but now I have evidence. I hate you, but your not worth that either. I don't think of you, only the times you repeatedly hurt me, and I hear of it. Strangers occup...

It'll be night soon, the children in the park will notice the shades of grey turn to black. A sadness will burden their hearts, they'll know its time to go home. They don't want the time to run so fast, ironically it will. Worried mothers will shout from far, "Chalo ghar chalo dair ho gai hai." Heavy hearted children will ask for just five more minutes. "Please, Ami paanch minit aur." But eventually they will leave that park, not knowing if tomorrow will bring them back here. She'll watch the time fly by faster than usual, because, his time is what she needs. She doesn't want the time to pass by, but ironically it will. She'll beg her God, to give her five more minutes with him, they'll too pass in two. Fatefully , he'll be gone. Not knowing if she'll ever see him again. "Allah forever more minutes please?"