.Bundle of Contradictions.

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It’s like I am giving pieces of myself away to them for safekeeping, a way to keep you sort of thriving. They probably have no idea that without you I am the kind of deficient no medication can fix. I miss myself but finding that girl is like getting sleep to come to you when you’ve been awake for too long such that your eyes won’t close even with the constant burn and desire for them to do so.

I was wondering today why I always end up writing in the same theme and someone told me not to worry and to just write about the weird stuff. I realized that you make as much of me as you did before and the place in my heart I always call empty isn’t so but very much occupied by you. It makes me angry at you though because that makes me feel like the sort of lost there is no compass for. The kind that was faced by sailors of the old when clouds would cover the sky and they would curse for all it was worth for the disappearance of the stars. I believe they still knew more about the world with certainty than I do. What do y9o9u do when life spins you around with a blindfold on and dumps you miles away from what you knew to be familiar and then tells you to get your shit together and go home. What do you do when home was where you were naïve and spent nights on a blanket watching the stars, when home was playing basketball in the heat and the smell of warm French toast, when home was the smell of a  dirty boy pushing you behind him just so that you wouldn’t get into a fight with the bigger kids in the park. What do you do when ‘home’ is taken away. Without you I feel like the sort of homeless that comes when the only home I want has boarded up its windows, changed the locks and its location with no new mailing address to forward my letters to.

I feel so guilty feeling all of this because I really do love life and I am happy, I really am, and more importantly, self assured because I need no one for my happiness but there is this underlying sadness that no amount of tears can drown. The problem with keeping up with the current is, you eventually learn to swim. The teardrops fall, still and in tandem. Each one frightened to make its journey with the burden that it carries and so they plunge into their demise bravely within the eyelids with more grace than I deserve on my cheeks. Sometimes your absence hits like a wave that I haven’t planted my feet against and before I have time to adjust, the level keeps on rising taking back with it everything I had built up. It is now such a constant part of life that I don’t even get shocked at the utter callousness of the ocean, directing its wrath so clearly at me time and again.

I am inventing this as I go, This feeling with each drop of hope that builds up then falls out of me, with each time I feel free only to be caught and shackled again. Its like this repetitive beat reverberating within me, reminding me of my lifetime subscription to the same slideshow again and again. The feeling of the car swerving and the small hands clutching at me, positioning me out of the way within that split second when you took my place. The acute realization that it should have been me. The sounds of the hospital, the machines, the people, your voice promising me that everything will be fine.

It seems like a story sometimes, a twisted scene unfolding in front of me as I watch as an onlooker, laughing at its incredulity. There is silence in that version though, the sort of silence few people on this Earth know about. The kind of silence that has its own sound that hurts so much that you feel your eardrums about to burst. The silence that only comes when the last echo of your own laughter has died and only a memory remains of the voices that used to hum to you and pull you back from the darkest nights and most haunting nightmares.

So many pieces have been shattered off that I don’t think I quite remember the whole picture that it was, I just remember it being beautiful and maybe, that’s why I give some pieces away so that maybe, just maybe, someone might be able to make a picture out of it again. With all the focus on the slow dropping through space and the literal crash that scattered all of them to unimaginable places, I forget though that sometimes only one set of hands know how things were before and I would so much rather be broken than put back together in the wrong order by the wrong hands with the wrong glue but the fact that I have people to give them to, a whole village of people actually, makes me want to believe in all the bright, sunny crap they put on bumper stickers. It’s all true and even with the dark and twisty bundle of contradictions that I am, that’s what I’ll choose to believe in.

 

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20 Reasons why Everybody Needs A Her

So that day, I was cursing my best friend (I’m sure it must have been for no reason at all) and a few minutes later simply had to text her because I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to make Nutella brownies or Oreo cheesecake. Then, while making the Nutella oreo brownies she suggested, I saw Winnie the Pooh and got to thinking (random, I know) everyone needs a her to survive life. Cheesiness overload and I’d probably never live it down but here we go..

. She is the one person who has a conversation with you about underwear, life decisions, future and fictional characters at the same time. (and not lose track of any one either)

. She doesn’t get confused at your rapidly changing frequency. From crying one second, to laughing your ass off the next.

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. She could leave in the middle of an intense conversation and you wouldn’t even worry that it was something you said.

.  You absolutely need to talk to at odd times but still don’t come off as needy. Or worry about being clingy (which you are when it comes to her, tbh)

. You can sleep with her without your hormones questioning if you have jumped ship

. She is the one person who will be whatever you need whenever you need.

. She is always incredibly proud of your achievements and is there for you, when you don’t deliver to her expectations which, knowing you, no one knows why she has but she does and would push you for them even while taking up your time herself.

. When you diagnose yourself with numerous disorders and illness, she’d give you the slap to the head you very well deserve then cry about your constipation and how pooping is a blessing (It really is)

. You can stay silent sitting next to her or break out into manical laughter. She won’t question it, she’d just do it along with you.

. Who else can you discuss fiction with for hours and who will treat it as real life. Or that random senior she saw in the dining hall.

. She will send you stuff even when she is mad so that she does not have to rewind later because she knows you guys can’t stay apart for long. Like that meme that perfectly describes the way she farts..

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. She is the one person you can tolerate absolutely anything about that you wouldn’t for anyone else and vice versa.

. You always have someone to text random things to like how that guy from anatomy class wears nice shoes or how you embarrassed yourself infront of people you don’t even know or what you think about winter weddings and how the bride looks at the wedding of your neighbour’s brother’s daughter’s wedding which you attended for the free food.

. She will tell you off, fight with you for yourself and even when you hate it, sometimes its what you need.

. She is the only person you can be jealous about without coming off as a creep thus curbing your creepy side.

. Her opinion on everything is a must-have. From texting her, “I really need you to tell me blah blah blah”, to “should I wear this or not?”. Even if in the end, you don’t listen – the comfort that comes from knowing what she said about is unrivalled.

. She will share your life with you, even parts not to be shared and you wouldn’t even note it because thats how its meant to be in your head. Like how gorgeous does that boy look, his eyes man..

. She’ll listen to all your deep theories that you come up with when you should be studying up on hyperplasia but end up contemplating the existence of the universe.

. She’d listen to our complains and then kick your butt and tell you to actually read up on methods of contraceptions for your exam rather than making poor jokes about it.

. When she is 613 miles away and you want to have an emotional moment like writing an entire blog post about how great it is to have her (even though you both know you spend half the time being irritated) – You can.

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It’s the best feeling in the world to know someone would always be available if you needed a Paul Wesley threesome or go Bungee Jumping or a Care Bear Fest. Whatever, whenever. After all, who else would you call if you accidently murdered someone while trying to get the last oreo/nutella on the shelf. You never know, it could happen anyday (And ohh If YOU’re reading this, the body needs to be hidden. Get on a plane bitch) It’s the weekend and I want to do so many things and I miss youu

 

.Multiverse.

 

Michelangelo PietaWhen someone we love dies, a part of us dies along with them but unlike the physical remains of that said person that we bury deep in the ground – unlike every other living thing that dies – we do not bury this part but rather, carry it with us, a constant bearing on our being for the rest of our lives.

In the 1890s, William James came up with the theory about “the multiverse”. Every once in a while, the dead part inside takes over the rest of our heart and makes us think about the hypothetical set of multiple universes comprising everything that can possibly exist simultaneously. Teasing the idea of an alternative life, a different fate. It spreads like darkness, snuffing the light out, making us question our entire existence, making us resemble our dear departed loved ones as best as we can; Turning us into a false rendition of corpses, dead in all sense but talking, breathing and in a manner of speaking, alive.

The darkness is tempting, a way to be close to the loved ones that have left us, a way to keep them alive by losing ourselves in their grief, losing ourselves with them. Some strong people though resist it, making its reign last only for some time, fighting with it every day, breathing life into the living corpse, a little more everyday using its battle within as a driving force to honour the people lost in the best way possible. Those people are few though and with good reason. The hardest part in the world is to let go of all the possibilities that could be and that is actually what is the worst. Waking up everyday and thinking about the future we were cheated of. The could have been’s.

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So I think of William James’ theory; The entirety of space, time, matter and energy all happening at once in different timelines. Parallel universe with all the what ifs and the could have been’s. So let’s presume that idea is real. Then maybe, in those infinite universes is one, or more, where you stay. Maybe there is a universe out there, happening right now where we stay at home that day, where my last words to you don’t haunt me forever, where I don’t lose you. A universe in which, when I close my eyes at night, I’m not dreaming about what could be but rather as a normal person would, about outrageous fairytales and handsome princes without the sadness that exists in everything now, even the happy times.

Maybe that’s what I see. The flashes of our life in the multiverse. They are not simple dreams you see; They are scientific, anachronistic visions. After all, we shared a womb so what’s to say we don’t share flashes of life across universes. I wish you could see me in this one though. Miss you best friend.

Wilderness we walk alone.

Love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

– Rainer Maria Rilke; Letters to a Young Poet

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They say solitude is the most basic human condition and all the connections that we make are in an attempt to undermine its crushing reality.

Much of our suffering in relationships come from the expectation that the other person would somehow solve this solitude, that somehow we would not feel so alone, trapped in our own heads with no comprehension from another.
We forget though, that we came into this world alone and we have to deal with ourselves, by ourselves. Our problems are our own and to expect any relief from anyone else is but a mere illusion.

They say that other people can relieve that solitude, but that’s only for brief moments – They can give us a glimpse of something else, some place beyond the experience of reality – Some other, less lonely thing that we can only see in flashes, like a dream of a dream. Some place that we can not, as long as we are alive, ever know.

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We are all point masses, randomly searching for our place in this universe, striving to belong; We collide with others in the process, giving parts of us away, remaining a little less whole, or so we feel.

I’d like to think that the world is really a thing that is made new each day, regardless of what was left yesterday, for as people, we have to fill our emptiness on our own, command our happiness from within. I’d like to think we can control the order of things at least at that level; The most basic yet the most complex one.

At least, I’d like to think so.

Scattered thoughts. Incomplete sentences.

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Not bodies. Not people. A bundle of feelings. Memories and Moments. Each light that’s snuffed out leaves a permanent shadow in someone else’s life. Numerous dreams lurking in the dark. Wishes suspended in the sky. Leaving the world darker. Changing things in a way that’s never the same again. A song at an end. The notes fading away. Silence. It’s those left behind that have it the hardest. To come to terms that they would never feel a certain way again. All that’s left being a non-existent future turned to dust. Glossy pictures, Painted smiles, Reminding them of time that shined. A string of I love yous and I’m sorry’s. So much left unsaid. A constant hole, nagging in the chest.The father, the mother, the siblings, not one thinking what if. What if it was the last time? What if the next time we saw the other was in a box of intricate wood with the very flag we fought to wave being the one to wrap it tight. A veil between all that was familiar and what is now and would be. Not one life, but a million others tangled. All along never realizing the beauty of the life that had been theirs. Building life from its foundations, always wanting to change its structure, always vying for what they didn’t have. Building life, to die.

No Going Back.

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Loss changes you. It might not be a change as visible as a splash of colour on a black and white painting but its definitely as if there is a slight shift in everything around us. As if the molecules disassemble and rearrange themselves, changing everything even as life moves on the same way like before, leaving us stranded on the shore.

You can pretend all you like, but the person looking back at you in the mirror is no longer whole and the empty place echoing within you does nothing to hide it.

You never really recover from some things. They call it heartbreak, because that’s exactly what happens. Your heart breaks and you’re never whole again and you can live or mask the scars with laughter and happiness but it sneaks up on you; The absolute cruelty of it all, the woes of your depraved soul desperate to find itself again and its all you can do to take a deep breath and smile.

Loss does one of two things to those it leaves behind – It meshes us together, forcing us to let go of every feeling we know to form some semblance of an existence again, or it tears open the wound, making us slowly bleed out, widening the divide so much that we’d do whatever it takes to try and pretend that shit’s not real. We know better though. Its a nightmare you cannot escape, no matter how much you scream and beg to be let out off. You’ll always be the person holding your war stories close, proud of your scars even as you lock them away within the confines of your heart. Always, at the precipice of insanity and even you go back to life, you know, in reality, there is no going back.