Relationships gone wrong, are like sour milk, they belong to the sewer. 

We go back to our ex-es because, they are our established comfort zones. A safety net.

During a fight, what do you think will be the first bullet that leaves the gun?

Mutation.
Mutation, is almost always a revolt.
Against a lover.
Against your mothers.
She loved my hair, so when she seized to care, I chopped my hair.

Just like Maggi.
Just like Laila.
I chopped my hair in the 23rd chapter of my life.

Nod nod, "That way no?" I asks.
Lady nod back.
The way she say with nod, I go there.

I see no light. The road is very up and down.
The nod lady sent me here, so I come.
I come to Baba.
He do miracles.
My small baby, is burning with fever.
I went to doctor, but medicine not working.
My mother in law told me to go to Baba.
So I come.

My little baby,
He is burning.

"Come to me! Quick!"
"You've done enough." The words seemed to have life. The paper, rolled up and kept under the rock. The Gestapo couldn't touch him now, maybe. The promises made to return the favor punctured his soul. Death did not arrive for him, not yet. But he killed himself.
Bit by bit.
Day by day.

Tired.
That should say it all. This is how it feels I see, when it finally feels like there is no more looking back. No more heartbreaks. Nothing more to lose.
This, is how it feels when you are letting go.
But, who am I lying to? It will keep coming back. I will always be that recuperating cancer patient: feeling good one day, and cursing this painful existence the next.

But, someday it will all cease to matter. I will be at the brink of that dangerous freedom that day.

Peace.

Everything beautiful in it's immensity is terrifying.
May be that is why they call Love beautiful.
And it's also the answer to why it scares us.

I miss sleeping with you.

The way my head rested on your forearm, buried in your bosom, the way your hand caressed my back in the slumberous fashion only you had. I wish once again I could drape my leg over both of yours and feel the warmth flow through you into me.

Even at the peak of summers, in those sweaty nights, I held on to you and your welcome warmth. You were with me, and all was fine in the world.

Now you are so far away, Mother. I’m cold and needy. I miss the blanket of your protection, the bliss of your warmth.

Scold me all you want. But please love me again.

Come back. Please just come back.

I wish you fall in love, and fall deeply.
So deep that you never know where you end and your other begins.
I hope you feel joys and sorrows as one.

And if you lose in that race of love, I hope you climb back up,
Pick up those pieces,
Smile through your tears,
And learn to love, even more deeply.

All over, once again.

At the threshold of the twilight that I chose to leave behind,

I stood and reached out my hand, trying to touch the rays,

Of a new dawn,

Of a new place,

Perhaps a new life?

On the other side,

And in that moment,

For just that moment, I thought, 

It waited.

And it waited for me alone.

Rantings of a Famished Heart.

Who am I?
The smiling person you see everyday?
Or the one who seems to be crying all day long?

Why the confusion?
Why the seeking?
Who am I?
The nobody hiding in the closet?
The loser, who's always broke?
The seeker?
The gainer?
The honest hypocrite?
Who am I?

I keep seeking for answers I might never find.
But this I know, I no longer am what I once was.
The one I was when you had me and I had you.
And so here I am.
All alone.
Still seeking Me.
But leaving those trails, the paths that lead to you.
I can't bear it any longer.

So here I am.

#Mumblings.

You get used to some people in your life, sometimes you just think you love them because you are so used to doing so. You can turn over while in bed musing about it, or hit your head against the wall, or just ignore it. But hey, it's always there. In the rumble tumble of these thoughts you forget to live and just "go with it".

Then comes the jolt. Realization steps in, showing you what you've been missing or what you want and do not want. You see the sphygmomanometer of love fall, reducing the pressure to the extent that the mercury of passion and love stops moving altogether.

Ms. Woolf, I see I guess, what you felt like, trapped in that way.

You wouldn't have found someone else, it's just knowing someone else that makes you realize, "What am I doing?" and the blindfold on the eyes come off. All you want to do is break free from the shackles, and run.

Not caring at all where the road takes you.