Today.

Today, good Lord in heaven, today.

Today was not a special day, to say the least. I love you and I know you so well I could know with my eyes closed that you’re around… if you ever could be. If you ever could be around, I would hold you down with words and hands. I would hold you down with words and hands and songs. The words in songs that you conveniently ignore because it is too much of an effort to think of what they mean to you. I don’t want to explain anything to you because you will never understand even if today, Sunshine, I am the mystery you want to solve.

Sunshine, have I told you why I call you that? Maybe I have.

I cannot tell the difference between days anymore. Every day has melted into the next. Even the days and nights feel the same, physically. There is no essential difference between anything I live in my head and outside it. I am unaware of it all right now. I don’t know what is happening and why it is affecting me. Maybe, I need the sun to shine on me.

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone…

My head is like a news ticker. There is no news and nothing is really happening. It is an infinite loop of the same thoughts – I want a home. I want you. I want a place to feel my own. I need to get out. I need to grow up. I need. I need. I need. I want..
And repeat. Rehash. Recycle till I fucking reduce to nothing.

I want to yell. I want to rant. I want to find a song that means something to me. I want to find a song that I can yell at you. I want to find a song I can sing to you. I want to stand on a pedestal today and sing for everyone to hear because I am tired of singing for myself. I want the world to know (and yet not).

This broadcast is not over and it never will be. You are not obliged to stay, but it would be nice if you did anyway.

“I Don’t Want Protons, S”

I am on the verge of big changes. I am leaving my favourite city. I will not be able to come home except for fifteen days in December. I had to give up a dream I nurtured for the past two years just because somewhere, I was not good enough.

I was always the girl with the plan. You know how people are either impulsive or contemplative? I am the sort who plans my impulses. I have always followed my gut and maybe that has made me emotional about things that I want, but it is what worked. Till now. As I publicly cried my guts out on the day I found out, I could only think one thing. “Such a waste of a young heart.” Yes, like the song.

All I heard from all sides were people congratulating me, the ones close to me consoling me. But every time I have to check my imagination which goes back to the old dream, I wish I did not have to. It felt like The Real World slapped me in the face for my audacity to hope for the best and forget to be prepared for anything less. It told me, “Good job at getting your feet back on the ground. Don’t venture for the skies any longer, young fool.”
Daisy Buchanan was right. “The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool

Later that night, when I refused to rid myself of the self pity, one of my best friends told me, “Fine. Degrade yourself to the size of an atom and see what happens.”
My dramatic side rebelled, “Protons, dammit. What is that stuff made of? That is how low I’ll pull myself.”
My usually collected friend replied, “I DON’T WANT PROTONS OKAY?”

I got Caps-locked.
🙂

Like a lot of things he has taught me, he also taught me this. It’s true. No one wants the proton. No one wants to be dragged down that low. To that insignificant size. Sure, they are a part of what makes up our universe. But, no one really cares about that.

The best I can do right now is to make sure that I do not drag myself any lower. I have little time on my hands as do the rest of you. I just seemed to have faced a divergence from the path, but I am hoping I can work and get it back on track. I’m a master at escapism and this is going to be difficult. But, we all need to have a story worth telling. I guess The Universe is giving me mine.

I have taken 18 flights in the past one and a half years. It is quite a lot for someone my age but, I guess those are the slight perks of living away from home. On flight number 19 this morning, I knew only one thing. I am going back home. That is a comfort, right?