All of Nothing

Some days, I wish the ache would erase me, and some days I wish I could set myself free Some days, I wish I could save you, and some days, I wish you could release me And every day I see the dagger carving with its shiny blade, enslaving me in this agony They say acceptance is the final stage. A stage I visit and then return to the gridlock - time and time again. It is not a destination. My visits to the promise of acceptance have varied in their duration and scope. In these visits, I find my surrender and my agreement with defeat. The storms finally put the fire out. In this cold, dark, uninspiring corner – I learn so much about myself.  They also say intellectualization of emotions does not allow an individual to feel the said emotions. And without the courage of standing defenseless in front of the tough emotional realizations, one could never reach acceptance. In line with strange ironies and miserable coincidences of my life, I have found myself to do all of the above – intell...

In circles we go with threads that tear the souls only to expose the void that buried the screams that define these souls. Threads are fragile when pulled in directions they do not belong, yet resilient when anchored. They survive inconspicuously even as they intertwine with new fabric of life. As the fabric grows, they stretch and slither, and hang quietly until the fabric is warped. And then the threads reveal their pull – not as a deliberate choice – but as a helpless plea to save the fabric from ripping to shreds. And so, I panic, and my shaky hands hold on to the threads to straighten out the fabric creases. And then the one, the inconspicuous one, tightens its grip and brings me to my knees. The fabric lays sheared, and the thread glistens as it nearly chokes me. The ambush is brutal yet familiar, but it holds back on its punches at first. Before I can recognize for what it is, it rapidly uncoils and pulls me tighter in this web of agony that sustains itself. The wounds run deep ...