Blue Seas

Once upon a time. There was a little person. And that little person thought that it could change the world. Clearly the little person was a fool. It was practically impossible for the little person to change itself, and become, say, a bigger person. How did it expect to change the world? The little person had no idea. And it refused to give up because, I don't really know this part. Maybe the little person had issues. At any rate, the little person eventually stopped trying. And then the little person realised. That it had taken the first step. To change the world.

As you keep moving on in life, you leave behind these little pieces of yourself, until you are no longer the original shape and piece you had intended yourself to be. The smile you thought you would see everyday. The nail polish you thought you could borrow every time you needed. The one person you would have to fight with all the time, but the second he's not in front of you, your heart stops beating. Your brothers and your sisters who have been with you your whole life are suddenly separated by a distance you no longer know how to breach. And you leave behind a piece with them. Your family as you knew it is now a thing of the past. You leave behind a piece with them. Your room, your study table, your school friends, the ones you saw everyday for twelve years and so you took them for granted. A piece of you, you leave behind with them. In university, semi-annual friends who come and go, rarely touching your lives, and occasionally, taking away a piece of you. New people, new plac

We work and work and work. We give and we give and we give. For nothing, pretty much. No, no, pantsuits won't do. It has to be a skirt, black, with stockings. Makeup, compulsory. And of course, high heels. Oh grow up! Remember, no matter what happens, its always your fault. You're always to blame. Oh you're expected to know how to cook and clean. It doesn't matter how good you are at the other stuff, you're still a failure if you don't know how to cook and clean. Its not important when you fall ill. You're not allowed a moment of weakness. You're the last to give up, always. Yet, its your fault that you gave up. Remember, when you make a mistake, its known as an unforgivable sin. At the end of the day, you're always right. But God forbid should you say it. You have to keep changing for others, until you're not yourself any more. And then nobody cares. Nobody notices. And, yet, we keep working and giving. What the hell would they do without us?

''Here you are. Standing in front of me. And you're saying these things. And I'm listening to them. But its not making any sense. What you're saying...I can't understand any of it. I can't follow. I can't...I cannot deal with this right now.'' I said. ''What I'm saying? Its very simple. Come back. Return. Forget all the stuff that happened. You did some things...they weren't right for you. Forget about it, just come back.'' Past said, crossing her arms. ''Exactly, that! Right there! I can't do it...I can't go back. Not possible.'' I replied. ''Why? You were fine, you were happy. Things were looking good for you. And now, you're this miserable wreck of a nothing!'' she yelled. ''I am NOT a miserable wreck of a nothing. This is something I chose to do, and I'm happy.'' I said, trying to breathe. ''Yeah, that would be very convincing if you wer

''For the love of God! What have the two of you been doing?'' I looked at the floor guiltily. Next to me, I could hear him stifling a giggle. Now honestly, I hate it when he does that. Laughter is infectious, but in my family it runs like an epidemic. I bit my lower lip as hard as possible to stop myself from breaking into laughter. ''We were, actually, helping the mechanic to change the flat tyre,'' I managed to mumble. ''And pray why? Isn't the mechanic capable of changing a flat tyre on his own, without the help of you two fools? Look at your hands!'' He obediently took out his hands from his pockets and looked up. his face was smeared with grease, right down to his teeth. He looked at me from the corner of his eye. I couldn't control myself any longer. I burst into laughter. ''What are you laughing at? That is a nice dress. A nice dress! And what do you do with nice dresses?'' ''She had to tear i

It's nothing more Than a little bit of Monsoon Madness In the air. It's time to love Three of four times over. It's time to hate. O! All encompassing hate. It's time again To live for yourself, To live for fun And all other things you didn't like. There's monsoon madness In the air. It makes me reckless, It makes me dare To challenge the truths I made for myself When I was young Only to know that They were lies, fit only to be Washed away By the monsoon madness In the air. Come to me Once again. Let me show you What it's like To throw away Those ideals And those norms Of decorum To which one must Always conform. Let me breathe A new breath. Let me feel A new touch Of tender leaves, Of green sprouts And some such things That come out When there's Monsoon madness In the air. Look above To the new life. Forget yourself - Who you were And what you stood for. L

He shut the door and walked into the room. He took off his coat and then sat down on the stool to untie his shoelaces. She looked up at him, surrounded by books, notes and three different kinds of calculators, and said, ''We need to talk.'' ''Uh oh.'' he said. ''What?'' she asked. ''Nothing,'' he replied, grinning, ''Its just that in my profession, 'we need to talk', is probably like the most ominous phrase ever.'' ''No, look. I'm serious.'' she said, unsuccessfully trying to shift the mountain of notes and papers around. ''I'm sick and tired and I hate myself. My life is over. I quit. I'm going to go back.'' He didn't say anything. He took off his socks and walked the length of the room to throw them in the laundry basket. ''Dude! Say something!'' she cried, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. ''Your life isn't ov

The perfect words never Crossed my mind, Cause there was nothing in there But you. I felt every ounce of me Screaming out, But the sound was trapped deep in me. All I've wanted, just sped right past me But I was rooted fast to the earth. I could be stuck here, for a thousand years Without your arms to drag me out. There you are, standing right in front of me. There you are, standing right in front of me. You are my Mirror of Erised. You look like a fantasy, but actually you're real Or is it the other way round? Every time I try to get closer, your image becomes foggy. When I reach out to touch you with my fingertips, they hit cold glass. There you are, but you're not there, for me. Standing right in front of me, but you don't exist. Your laugh, your smile, the way you wear your hair, that red dress that you were wearing the last time I saw you. I can see. All of it. Very clearly. So very clearly. From a distance. But as soon as I come any closer, my vision gets

The Lady of Shallot. Undoubtedly, one of Tennyson's finest works, as well as one of my favourites. And I'm sure, one that has been discussed and written about a million times over. What is it that is so appealing or unappealing about the Lady of Shallot? Well, she was a fairy, whose job was to weave and not look upon Camelot. She did her work fairly well, and didn't look where she wasn't supposed to. A nice girl, on the whole. Until, came Sir Lancelot. A knight, in shining armour. Loved by all, even though his heart was reserved for the one woman he couldn't have, Queen Guinevere. He wasn't even aware of the existence of the weaving Lady. He was prancing along the river bank singing ''Tirra lirra''. And yet she fell for him. So sickened was she by her daily routine and mundane life, that she chose to sway from her weaving, invite the curse upon her head, and ruin herself. Why did she do it? Why did she give her life for someone who never even

I don't like it. It is hateful. It bothers me. It causes me pain . It was slow and hurtful. It crept up into my life when I least expected it. And by the time I realised and tried to resist it, it was too strong. It was omnipresent . Everything around me was moving, adjusting, shifting to adapt to it. And I was left fighting it. A losing battle which I intended to fight till my very last breathe... Until, there came this whiff of adventure. This sudden thrill of fear. An adrenaline rush. Goosebumps and prickly hair at the back of my neck. A feeling which was familiar, yet something I had never felt before . And I smiled. I dropped my weapons. And I surrendered. A necessary evil, the fuel which keeps us all going through life. Chugging along. Like a ferry boat . Sometimes rising slowly, like a hot air balloon . Change. I don't like it. But I welcome it. I embrace it. I need it.

I made breakfast today. By myself. A successfully boiled egg. Toast with jam. Coffee with baby formula (since I'm allergic to milk). All of it was edible. I made breakfast today. For me, its a big thing. Usually I suck at stuff like that. But this was good.