And that is when you became a dream

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They told me, strangers could share dreams too. We were strangers. They told me, the end of a dream would be a celebration. But I rejoiced at the mere thought of our togetherness. They never failed to mention how dreams always keep you awake. But your endless stories blurred me into sleep mode each night. They asserted how hard work always pays off. But I do not think they ever fell for someone like you, or may be, they never really needed one absolute chance to explain their work:

Loving you was one fine record of labour I had done in my life. That night, I felt our souls being intertwined. “You are my reality,” I told myself. Next morning, just when I felt that I have given you my universe, I noticed you struggle with the wrinkles of a blissful time, before you went on to ask me for some space in our star-crossed oneness. And that is when you became a dream.

A dream that should either remain a dream unfulfilled or the one that should be forgotten terming it a nightmare. “You were my reality,” I told myself. I knew I had loved and lost you. What scares me today, you ask? The fact that, you often crawl into every corner of head and make me cold causing a tornado in my body, just like you used to, but only in my heart. You have become that ‘nothing’ when everybody asks me, “What’s wrong?”

Sure, people come and go. Others were my cigarette breaks, and you? You are a forest fire. How can you help me, you ask? Just give me back the centre of my universe, for it lies right within you. And we could be strangers. Again.

My Career Path

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…And while everyone else is excited to have arrived at the shore in order to test their aspirations, you manage to smile to yourself while gearing up all over again to sail around the ocean, get lost between the tides, punctuate smiles on strangers as you cruise through those waves, write mirthful stories and find a better version of yourself right before you scheme another voyage. :)

A quest for nothingness

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How I wish I could fetch a thick white paper square,
And may be even stack an extra bunch for despair.

Crease, fold and craft it neatly into a small boat,
Take a good seat and watch my moments float.

Renounce plans; sail across seas, oceans and more,
Keep gliding gently till I see every wave, find no shore.

Why do I not drink (alcohol)?

Originally posted on Let there be Life...:

I like fivefold reasons — 5 is my lucky number. [Kidding!]

  • I am not enchanted by my peer group [Or anyone for that matter when it comes to this]
  • [Did you just say taste it? Ugh.] I would rather prefer sipping on something I know I could/would get addicted to. [Let’s talk coffee!]
  • I have my own mannerism to embrace adversities [which I love by the way!] and celebrate happiness [Let's dance!]
  • I am too high on life [Cliché? Buy it!]
  • I don’t think time is a good asset to spend on coming out of a self-invited head-spin, let alone a hangover

P.S.: I am not against the idea of consuming alcohol; this write-up pools around mental notes which makes me feel that I’m talking to myself. :D

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