Dear future self

Dear future self,

I want you to come back to this moment, I want you to not forget this feeling you’re feeling right now, I want you to remember the exact color of the sky, and the dearth of the free flights of even a single bird, I want you to remember the absence of a silver lining in any of the clouds that cover the skyline, the emptying paleness of the azure that spreads in the unimaginable infinity that covers everything, the constancy with which the streetlights radiate, this numbing sensation in your bones, this desire to succumb yourself to silence, to throw all of those diaries of poetries and dream journals away, or, rather, put them all to fire, all over again, I want you to remember this precise moment when the impracticality of your dreams seems so overwhelming that you find yourself giving justifications for not trying to hold on anymore.

I want you to come back to this when some random little thing, ranging from some Disney movie to a Woolf quote would inspire you and you’d find yourself readying for another of those sprees in which you’d believe yourself to be unbreakable. But you’re getting old for Disney, you aren’t young anymore, you have been young all this time, but you aren’t, not anymore. And despite your mind finding itself on a ride back to a feeling of belonging in the stream of consciousness this Woolf offers, you know about her end, didn’t you? You know her last words were the first thing you read, and you knew you understood what she felt, and even as you couldn’t know why she did what she did, you knew they couldn’t save her, you knew she couldn’t save herself, but you know you understand, and you know you hate that. I want you to remember this burning sensation your eyes feel at this moment, and the seemingly unending way in which this saltwater doesn’t run out, I want you to remember how the skyscrapers covered the sunset for you this evening, and all you could see was the darkness that reeks in this entire cosmos, slowly manifesting in the way it dawns over the city, I want you to remember how you looked at this train go by, and all it did was remind you of the dreadful monotony that awaits you, the sheer normalcy you know you’d find yourself engaged in, doing what you’ve done all these years, running in circles, and wanting to do it all before the accepted age for the same runs out, I want you to remember the way you felt sorry for yourself, and you couldn’t do anything but gritting your teeth. You haven’t felt as estranged to yourself and everything you’ve meant to everyone ever before. I know you, I know you dislike it when you feel entrapped in your own body, which keeps suffering, because of you, I know that even as you’ve come to accept the aberration your curls offer, at times you’d want to just have it all go away, wanting to fit in, wanting to not realise all that you see to be unfair. I know you’ve come to hate your arms, slowly, but you’re getting there, hating the chunks of fat that allows people to fat-shame you, with an unbelievable impunity, you’ve never liked your ears, have you? They’re just too big for humans, maybe all they want you to do is listen, and understand, and do things their way. And the newest addition, that’s the one you hold the most grudge against right now, isn’t it? You’ve hoped to get a tattoo that defines your beliefs and yourself all these years, wanting to engrave a semicolon or a flying book on your wrist or at the back of your neck, because you’ve always been someone who goes on, who believes in the magic and the power of the written word and imagination, but the world isn’t a wish-granting factory, isn’t that right? So you’re presented with these scars that make you cry every time the mirror reflectes them covering your back, the monstrosity of their redness is sickening, and you find it unable to get the doctor’s voice outside your head telling you how they won’t go away. And you shed a tear knowing that these scars, which are nothing but a reminder of another summer that broke you, would probably outlive in being there on your body, than your soul.

Look, I don’t know what to say, all I know is that you are hurting, and you know you’re going to make through this as well, but I know you don’t want to, with all these people out there, refusing to treat beings as beings, you’ve started questioning what even it means to be a human. You find it unable to partake a conversation with people you used to know, knowing exactly how they’re trying to silence your voice, giving excuses of utmost stupidity with these infuriated glares to everytime you mention something to be wrong around. I know how the feeling of being silenced and misunderstood clicks with this feeling of loneliness and you find yourself abandoned in the middle of a sea, with this ship that comes with a timer, you know it’d take you home, all you need to do is put the address, but where even is it? So you find yourself swimming around, wanting to ask someone for directions, only that there’s nobody around, and with your armour down and kept aside for safekeeping, you know nobody would come to help your beatific being, knowing that all those promises and confessions they make about following you till the end of the world, will all fade away once they see you removing your masks. I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trusting people, I’m sorry nobody wants to be around, you know you don’t get to blame them, right? And all those constellations of thoughts you thought you’d think through, wondering if the stars knew our stories all this time and if this existence is nothing but a computer simulation, and if our lives are unprecedented or not, and why we do what we do, live all those ages without asking why, forced in these races to get more marks and money and a stability that’s put Noble gases to shame, what’s even the point?

I want you to remember the way your aching heart beat for you, and how you couldn’t bring yourself to text or call anybody up to listen to the sound of silence, and with the stillness your soul screamed and broke apart, all over again. I want you to remember how your fingers fluttered while you typed and your insecurities took over you, I want you to remember how you saw the ghosts of those who’ve loved and left all around you, all over again, and how you knew better to not reach out this time, knowing they’ll vanish the second you do that. I want you to remember the fireworks that spread across the sky, and the world rejoicing oblivious to the apocalypse springing in your being. I want you to remember the uproar this laughter coming from strangers that broke you, that made you want to wonder how could they settle for mediocrity, how could they not want anything more, but to hold on to their immoral rationality they call as worldliness, how nobody ever wishes to stop being called a refugee in a town that never changed, how they never accept a part of it to belong to a part of theirs, how we’re living in a tremendous turmoil, just toiling through Tuesdays and Thursdays, we’re at wars with ourselves, we’ve all our guns and grenades loaded, and we keep trying to harm the kingdoms of all those we find in front of us, knowing that one can always pick up the pieces to build their Lego houses again. But why do we always have to be that wave that brings the sandcastle down, what good does it even do to us?

I feel sorry for you. I do. So when tomorrow you come back and your intellect tells you that you’re invincible,and you read this and you feel sorry for me for not being able to look at all those wonderful wonders this world still has to offer, I know I’d be too numb to call you naive, for believing that one of these days you’d step up to becoming someone who’s not invisible, to becoming someone who’d be able to stand up for yourself, to maybe even getting to your dream university, to be able to articulate your affection, to not let your insecurities insinuate you to go flounder in silence, maybe to even have somebody tell you that they’re proud of you, that you’re appreciated for who you are, to be someone with that spark in her eyes and the understanding that she wants the world, to feel infinite once more.

And maybe you’ll get it all, your utopia doesn’t include unicorn horns and dogs you are too afraid to pet anyway, maybe you’ll find some sense and some reasons why not, one of these days, I only hope that this sadness doesn’t devour you completely before that happens. I hope the next time you read this, you believe in magic and metaphors once more.

Either ways I know you’re going to make it. I hate it that you would but you would, anyway. So go on, cry this night out and in a week or two, get back to filling your pocket with sunshine and your cup with coffee and dreams, wanting to be all that you could be.

I’ll get through this, don’t worry, there’s not a heartbreak that Coldplay and a bottle of Cola can’t fix.

Don’t end before you’re shattered completely, and don’t forget the starless skies I am looking at right now. I want you to remember this all once you go back to counting your calories and running in circles tomorrow morning,

I want you to remember me. Because I know nobody else will.

You better not let me down, okay?

Go get ’em, tiger.

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Hear you me, the chosen one(s)

The sky boasts of all those enchantments and red sparks you have sent shooting across your wand, and the bubble your sorcery has created, it refuses to let any of those evil forces penetrate through it, and hence, I am able to stand here, being able to breathe in the magic the moment has created, with the sky being a spitting image of Van Gogh’s starry night, trying to voice my regards, my awe through this debris of raving emotions and worthless words, wondering if my voice will reach you over these sounds of shrill screaming all around, over all these alternate universes and oceans and eras that divide us, and I can only hope that the language of love is able to both transcend and translate my thoughts, as you stand guard in your version of reality, being the hero in your own universe, safeguarding all that’s good and fragile and prone to getting lost.

In the unsettling stillness that lurks around, i find you waving your wand, trying so hard to fight those dementors that refuse to leave Little Whinging, and while I am no longer surprised at their haunting existence slowly becoming a part of thin air, as the serpentine smoke that gushes in the wind makes it easier for them to hide, and with all the sadness that seemingly lasts forever, all those dreams slowly finding their way in the pit of forgotten memories, people slowly succumbing to ravages of time, things falling apart centuries before they have to, with all the voicelessness that silences every ethereal echo that lost lovers whisper about, with a traumatising terror ogling everywhere, building walls after walls, making it harder to love beyond belief,

I can only be thankful for all the part you continue to play, for all the faith you keep intact, for all the times you continue to offer your might and magic to the world, battling through every single bruise, through all of the broken, bleeding words, and just being, not caring about the house points, no longer fighting for eternal glory that that Triwizard cup contains, recognising the actual enemies as the faults in ourselves, those shackles of prejudices we still seem to celebrate even after all these years, refusing to learn how to treat souls as souls, to not label beings in categories of house elves and muggles and pure-bloods and dragons, those boggarts that bully us into complexes, the treachery played by those imposters, making us surrender to the devastating danger that all this distance between souls create, disposing one to misunderstandings, to endings that end much before they have to, forcing beings to be afraid of all that vulnerability that love entails, of the idea of losing and leaving, of the very way in which this world seems to work.

Don’t you find yourself losing to the redundancy sometimes? As you continue to confront all the three unforgivable curses they send your way, do you not find it unfair at times that all those people, that never pause their running in circles even for a single second to thank you for your presence, for being such a good soul that the very idea of your existence seems too good to even exist. And how they become the first one to believe in all those stains they keep spilling on your reputation, never thinking twice about how everything affects everything,tell me this, does it not hurt ?

I see everything around me crashing apart. The whole idea of forevers and families being thrashed into pieces, with everything we have ever believed being beaten incessantly into pieces, I see explosions after explosions, and all the hopes being harassed over and over again, the possibilities of a love as strong as Molly’s seems impossible, and our tongues never stop craving for the chocolate cake with the words ‘happy birthday Harry’ carved upon it with green icing, cannot stop hoping for that cakemaker to crash down the door and forget the details about embellishing certain beings with pig tails when asked about them years later. And I am sorry if that offends you, but after all those betrayals your headmaster has bestowed upon you, it keeps getting harder to forgive him, despite the bewitching brilliance he possesses, there is this one thing about human incarnation that I have learnt in all these years, and it is that one needs to be as willing to live as much as they are to die for the ones they love. Did Dumbledore had to die on you? And I realise that the battle had to be yours own at the end, but what’s even the point of fighting if all you’re going to receive is a victory, with no survivors at all.

How do you survive with the very apparent absence of all those lights whose flickering went unnoticed? And there was no Madam Pomfrey to heal them, no curse breakers, no being to tell them that they mattered and were cared and loved, how do you live with all the weight of those stories that remained unheard, and I know you’re not a superhero or anything, but if you’re not, then what are you? And if you’re as human as me, tell me how do you live with yourself? Realising how they are making Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest to be applicable in reality, all those people and dreams being killed, what for ?

What are we fighting for ? And all these traditions we tend to protect, all those times we refuse to let people free, to let them be, tell me this, what good is it going to those that actually matter in your life? As you continue to let the world win, to let the society get away with everything,

And I realise we have no noseless villians to antagonize our cities, and most of the times, we end up annihilating our Lego houses ourselves, each man kills what he loves, Oscar Wilde said that, do you remember? We end up laughing at Luna’s sanity, cutting the whomping Willow, being our own versions of moaning Myrtle over time, learning to work under the tyranny of Umbridge.

Dobbie didn’t come to rescue his friends for this, did he? George didn’t lose his twin, his best friend for this, Lupin and Tonks didn’t die for this.

One of these days, the world will have to recognise and realise that. And I can only hope that that epiphany comes before you or I end.

Thank you for continuing to fight this war for the greater good, for keeping everything at stake for making this world a place where all the abandoned ones can find their home, their own Hogwarts at every corner in every city. And lets have Grawp deal with all those beings that force us to believe that that is not possible. I want you to never forget that you are a part of something bigger than yourself, that you are loved, and you matter, and at times when you miss those you’ve loved and lost, remember that love goes on, and as long as it will, they’ll never really leave you, and you wouldn’t need be a master of death to ever realise that, and I believe that this goodness of your soul will transform into horcruxes someday, it’ll never end and hope will surpass everything, and this strength of your witchcraft, mightier than the forces of gravity, it will rejuvenate every other day, as eleven year olds will run with their trollies and dreams in the walls between platform nine and ten, and we’ll find ourselves fascinated by sunsets riding the steel grey metro trains of our cities, and although the longing for butterbear will linger every while and then, I know we’ll be alright,

This very feeling of love will keep us alive, and we’ll never quit being the Phoenix that rises from its ashes.

I want you to count on me on saving the world, one word at a time. I am counting on you too, to save the sphere, one spell at a time.

And it’s been twenty one years since our cosmos joined ally with that of yours, and with each passing day, I’ve felt the feeling of affection for you to grow so much that I cannot imagine what I would have been without you being an indispensable part of my life, you have made it possible for me to survive, it’s because of you and just you that the fire inside my soul still grows
I cannot thank you enough.

One of these days, when we get a break from fighting these everyday battles, I would like to take you out for some butterbear, and doughnuts, maybe? Consider it a double date, I have always wanted to hear about Holyhead harpies from Ginny anyway. Is that a deal?

Thank you for Bertie Botts’ all flavored beans. It was one of the best things I have ever had.

Congratulations on all these years of togetherness!

I’m assuming you’d know the answer to whether I’m chasing cats and owls after all this time,

Always, you know, for always.

Be well, the chosen one (s)

We’ve got this!

Let’s not let the muggles get us down.

Changing the world, one word at a time

Loads of love

~ a wizard who never got her letter.

Wake up (please?)

The stillness in here is sad and suffocating,
There’s this sense of desolate dejection in these walls that are not even painted, just plastered on with shades of contaminated chloroform and never-ending narcotics,
I’ve never seen you as unmoving as you are now, there’s just so much rushing everywhere,
But the blood inside your veins doesn’t rush, not even a tiny bit,
So, they draw the sheets and dress you in these robes and dozens of wires and liquids,
But you hate clothes with tinges of purple,
Who would tell them that?
You are battered and bandaged, I’m breathless and broken,
But they don’t pay any heed to the exhaustion that forces me on the only plastic chair nearby,
Not that I care,
We need to focus on fixing those lungs that long for life,
In this urgency that reeks of stifling antiseptics and overwhelming dizziness,
The sound of your hysterical laughter rings in my ears,
Eulogising the little infinity that we’ve spent together, I sing aloud of the countless starry nights we’ve spent together counting celestials to anyone who’d listen,
Touching wooden doors and broken window frames, I plea the skies to preserve us,
The accustomed acquaintance between our souls feels so distant right now,
What wouldn’t I give to listen to the sound of a routine heartbeat,
When this sorrow surpasses my sanity, I walk around the narrow corridor, echoing of shrill screams and wailings, with an awful abundance of anticipations, perusing painful pleadings,
Here, they all wait, in sheer desperation, they all pray, in utmost helplessness,
We all choke in this chaotic consciousness, breathing but not so much, acknowledging the horrors of the brutal reality with a shudder,
My numbing nausea is envious of your unconsciousness,
And how it remains ignorant to this sound of the world falling apart,
This sound that only I can hear.

I find myself struggling to search for your hand, to hold it, to let myself know,
More than you, that we’re not alone in this,
I find myself listing all the things that I love about you,
I wish it consisted that you take care of yourself, always,

Cold and lifeless,
Your hands are still your hands, as I hold them.
If you can hear me in this agonising Anastasia,
Preserve yourself, for the sake of all that’s good and pure in this world,
Let go and let life come,
I don’t know what to do,
But to hold you while craving to be held,
Wake up,
Wake up, you idiot,
Wake up.

Between those shades of blue

This feeling of blues arising at this station shaded in one of the most calming hues of azure is so real that it almost hurts. Although I realise it shouldn’t, but somehow it does, and these infinite flashbacks of seemingly minute moments just come haunting back. These images, of the ghost of the past, brings along this grieving epiphany of the actuality of Evanescence, of fleeting moments and minutes and semesters. Everything seems to be running with a faster pace, somehow it feels that the time it took to travel from this station called Mandi house to that called Jhandewalan is seemingly less, and that brings this frightening feeling of fading away, of not only passing of time, or of semesters or of papers, but of people, of the fear of falling out of feelings, of growing out of things, of things changing because of the dreadful distancing that distance can do, of dozens of misunderstandings that can be thrown our way. And how taking the metro back to those four-walled structures is not going to fix that, how the absence of these rides to those pale yellow buildings with concreted grounds and amphitheatre with all shades of autumn, the sounds of laughter, the paradoxical puns regarding nothing and everything, having great expectations from these seemingly hard times, and these rides, struggles to grab these grey colored seats, favorably the corner ones near the iron poles with their unique vantage points and offering the better part of air conditioning, the endless ringing of phone and the dreadful yet familiar aspect of getting late, every single day, haunts the very core of my soul at this very moment. How at last when you have seemingly found this very rare feeling of home and peace in these very pursuits of golden sunsets, feeling of awe over the aestheticism that those houses hidden beneath the lushness of trees or of the adorable doughnuts, or over the serenity presented by those metro stations at the other side of the city, the strangeness of these strangers that are busy in their own endeavors, everyone with their own stories and own little part in the world, and in those words you’ve licked so ardently, how that feeling feels slipping away, like the last metro of the hour, like the last vestige of sundown. And even as you realise that that aurora is near, that it’s almost here, this fear of falling at the brink of something beautiful, of having it almost make it to you or you making it to it, terrifies you.

You realise that the dawn is probably nearer than the stations between ramesh Nagar and Nawada. But with every passing station that brings you back to the screaming, suffocating stillness, the shades of blue seemingly increases. You fail to witness the drooping daylight as you find yourself burning in this heat, which is almost ironical and majorly weird owing to the icy numbness you feel inside.
What does it matter? That’s not the question anymore, it’s how does all of it matter so much that you begin to fear it. The prospects of what the future entails and the reminiscence of these moments you’ve just left behind, all devouring you in them, completely, and you, drenched in the infinite fears and guilts fail to breathe in this very moment.
The moment this realisation enters your mind, the door to metro opens and you realise that it’s just Tilak Nagar, there remain, still around four stations. And the pale sky outside, bathed in this summer madness will attain your favorite shade back someday, very soon, hopefully. And probably this shade is somebody’s favorite too, this feeling helps you breathe a little lighter, as you realise that this, probably is not the last ride after all, and while these fears will ultimately find their way in the labyrinth of your complexes, this feeling, this aftertaste of doughnut called coffee toffee or the excessive cheese in this pizza, while your mouth pains due the excessive smiles you’ve smiled today, they are to remain. And no matter what happens, nobody can steal it or force it away from you. With this feeling, and with Jason Mraz playing in the background, you begin to breathe in the blueness of the blue line of Delhi metro, setting your mind free to the unblemished horizons of the skyline, and the sounds of these laughters, which you perhaps adore the most in the world, probably even more than that of Sheeran finds their way back to you.
So you breathe in the familiar running in circles before pausing for some two months or something, trying to not live in denial or despondence,
And you revel over the last two minutes of this metro journey, thinking out loud of this metro musing before steeping out of this trance.
You hold the iron pole, clinging on to it, just a little longer, letting it know that you’ll miss it, all of it, a little more than too much,and how much you look forward for everything new and old to happen,
All over,
Again.
Some other day,
Some other semester,
Very soon.
Soon enough,
I guess.

The last musing

Tonight,
I’m sad.
Tonight,
I feel lonely.
My hands slipped in pursuit of yours,
There,
Where you no longer are.
I got to witness the happiest shade of white when we rambled on and roamed around, did I ever tell you that?
With you,
I felt the desperation in my soul taking the best of me, urging me to move away from those agonising anxieties.
And now,
As I imagine you being mesmerized by the beauty of those starry nights, lost in the song of some Nightingale that sings in a distance the tunes of tranquility,
Stroking the petals of daisies drenched in golden hues falling tenderly in that hour of twilight,
That the substantiality of your surrounds overshadows my incorporeality,
That you cannot hear the ethereal echoes alluding to our times over these hushed whispers about the screaming sinners.
In one of these impassioned nights like these, we allowed our souls to spill stories we had kept hidden inside for centuries, do you remember that?
We howled in inaudible murmers, about passions for poetry, hunger for freedom, the craving for being a part of something bigger than ourselves, expressed out fears about those forevers that flicker, wondering aloud if it was love that would fill this ceaseless abundance of nothingness.
And now,
As I find myself falling in that very abyss of emptiness,
The gap between my fingers seem interminable,
Your presence impalpable,
These tears that tear me apart vaporize and I wonder,
If at least they’ll find their way to you through the West wind,
If not my words or my love.
Tonight,
I feel lonely, and your absence seems inexplicable.
I know not how to survive this dearth that seems to remain,
I can only imagine you revelling over some reverie, over some ephemeral eclipse, as blossoms bloom and fireflies glide in that stillness.
If my words reach you a little too late,
Please know,
That my despondence felt desperate,
Apprehensive at these anticipations,
That it wanted nothing but to be held and reminded of our promises, of us, craved for the touch of your hand against mine.
Know that you were the last dream of my soul,
And my last musing,
And muse.

Shelters

It just feels like,
I’m hiding in the shadows,
Sitting under the shelter of my blue study table,
Wishing for the wishing stars,
Wishing for you,
And I hear voices, all around,
It seems like the whole world is on fire,
And it looks like I forgot to lock the doors, the window panes are shattered, already,
And the device is draining,
And this room is devoid of electricity, of water, of everything
But
This devastatingly enormous void,
Which even fear cannot fill,
They’re burning all we’ve ever loved, all we’ve ever been,

All, to ashes,
And I’m frozen here,
With fear,
Anxious in agitation,
Annoyed at my own apprehensions,
How would you call me?
And would you, even ?
If your voice is locked up in this fearful night,
That has no ends,
No dawn awaiting our arrival,
.
Securing myself into seclusion,
This screaming solitude,
The inferno echoes,
Burns with these passions that nobody cares about,
As everyone just runs and runs,
Trying to add a few more moments in their lives,
Pleading guilty, pleading helplessness,
Howling for help,
.
Trembling in these terrors,
I don’t know my way out,
And it becomes harder to breathe, every second,
But I promised you that I’d survive,
I don’t know how to,
I don’t want to,

Another explosion,

Where are you?

Things I wish I had told you

One of those nights really broke me,
Did I ever tell you that?
I lay awake, thinking about things that seemingly arise from nothing and end up taking everything, and things that began at everything and ended up being absolutely nothing.
I walked around in the dead of night, not knowing what else to do, searching for some trail to follow, something that could bring me out of this phase, where things have just stopped making sense, where I’m just questioning almost every single thing that has ever happened.
At the end of the corridor I found this photograph, an attempt to preserve memories for eternity, I looked at it for a moment,
And haunting visions entered my mind.
Did I ever tell you that?
And right now,
As I’m walking on some familiar way, with these many thoughts, all of them so intense, that I somehow find myself unable to express any one of them,
I see this spot.
I remember this place,
This was where he breathed his last,
And all these years,
I’ve just told myself that I was his favorite, only now do I realise the incongruity of my happy pretences, we didn’t have enough time together for him to actually get to know me,
And, now, as I realise that,
I realise he’ll never really know how I turned out to be.
I didn’t know how to deal with this feeling six years back,
I don’t know how to deal with this feeling even now.
They never taught me that,
I think they never taught anybody that.
At the age of fifteen, when I had my first heartbreak, I did not know what to do, but I did know how to calculate the principal amount through compound interest,
Somehow they informed us to love all animals and about the number of injections one gets if bitten by the same animals, all in the same voice.
To this day, I’m afraid of dogs,
Even as I love them,
I’m scared of injections, hospitals, blood, fatigue,
Did I ever tell you that?
One of the major reasons why I’m so afraid of forevers is because I just can’t seem to believe that anybody would be willing to take that extra mile for and with me,
Did I ever tell you that?
And all those times,
In which i just went wrong, which just altered all the paths, changed everything, everything,
Much before I was ready,
I still don’t understand how that happened,
And I spend hours and hours circling names of people, trying to understand the meaning of this eternal sadness of the spotless mind.
And as this overwhelming darkness begins to take in it any of the light left around, and I’m just lying on the bed, because these brittle bones shiver, and I cannot feel my arms or my legs or anything, anything,
Numb to everything but this feeling, which is absolutely inexplicable, where there’s just so much pain, so much fear, so much helplessness, and you don’t know what to seek, what to do, how to get out of this, this abyss.
I almost walked on a flower today,
I felt like destroying something beautiful, something precious, something pure, hoping that someone would take notice, that maybe annihilation would be the way to achieve peace,
And this portrait of this lady just flashes in my mind who once told me that she thought I was beautiful and died much before I could tell her that I thought so too.
And I wish I could have told you,
How scared I am, of every passing second,
Because while every single moment is the beginning of something or the other,
The other moment is the end.
And this thought, it scares me, that maybe these words that I write to you,
This might be the last conversation we ever have.
Because that apocalypse, it’ll be here much before we anticipate it to be.
And neither religion nor science would save us then,
Maybe not even love,
And, when that moment comes,
What would we do then?
When everything will just sort of fall apart,
And it hurts me to think about all those things that’ll just never be,
All those caterpillars that will just never turn into butterflies,
And punching walls or wishing upon airplanes or counting stars would never stop that,
Starting at the sky would not make it easy,
Those words that we lick with such affection, I’m not sure if they’d survive either,
And this moment, no matter how it is, it’ll end up in a bunch of ‘..has been..’,
And all of our almosts will come back to haunt us,
And I wouldn’t be able to save you when it comes,
Because I don’t know how to survive myself,
So now
As the sky sheds water, and I tears,
I just wish to tell you that I’d be eternally grateful,
Always, because of the fact that you exist.
And I wish I could tell you how much I loved you, how much I love you,
But we were never taught how to do that either.
I wish i could tell you how ardently I wish to just seize our little infinity, and never, ever let it go.
I wish that this wind chime in my room understands my symphony,
Because I’m not sure if you ever will,
And these attempts at ranting or revelling will all go in vain,
As you’ll have to put me under the label of spam,
Which,
Is why,
I can only wish that I could tell you all these things,
Tell you when everything is fine and yet everything hurts, as the clock strikes thirteen and all the trains have left and all the places closed and,
There’s no space in the waiting room,
And nowhere to go,
That
I don’t know what to do.
And now,
As everyone prepares for the final day,
And the realisation that everything is going to collapse is finally taking in everybody’s mind,
And,
You’re somewhere in a far off city,
Miles away from where we used to be and even further from where I am,
And,
There’s no summoning charm to save us this time,
And everything is set to fall apart,
I can only ask you to run,
To save theeself,
As I choke on my own breath,
Trying to not let the ghosts of my unsaid words find their way to you,
Run and save yourself,
Please do,
Make it to the other side,
For your sake,
For the sake of those golden sunsets and flickering lights and magical nights and poetry books,
For the sake of those words that actually found their way to you.
While I’ll let my fears consume me and let my ashes dissolve in the stardust, hoping that you’ll make it, hoping that you’ll be happier.
.
And I took a sip of that hazelnut coffee

,

When you weren’t looking,

Back then,

.

I wish I had told you that.