October Is Here.

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Wow, I can’t believe it’s been an year! I wrote this following poem last October but never got around to sharing it. So I thought it’s only appropriate now that another October is here, to post this as an Ode to this month of dying beauty. It’s also a testament to how far I’ve come as a writer and most importantly feeling comfortable enough to share my work with the world. It brings back all kind of nostalgia to think I couldn’t share this last year but now I’m ready to own my writings and the writer in me. So without further due here it is.
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October is here and September is gone,
while November is soon to come.

The days turn to nights and nights into days,
While I wait for your return.

Standing on the threshold of our dreams,
I stand gazing upon the autumn trees.

The crisp air swooshes by me,
And leaves filled with color fall upon my feet.

I melt into the October sky,
I reflect how so many months have since passed by,
while I wait with my tears all dried,
And coffee turned cold.

The morning sun peeks through the autumn trees,
Solemn air mourns and weeps.
I need your warmth to save me,
From the cold dark nights that are soon to embrace me.

October is here, but not you.
Not yet.

Maybe November, maybe December.
Or maybe in January February.
Someday you will return,
Whether it’s March, April, June or July.

I will wait for you forever,
Even through August and September.

And then October will come again,
Bringing back memories of the day you left.
Leaving behind a flesh of heaving weeping mess,
Stranded on the doorway tracing your footsteps.

October is here again, but not you.
Not yet.

( Nostalgia )

The Real Me

Daily Prompt: Intense!

Describe the last time you were surprised by the intensity of a feeling you had about something, or were surprised at how strongly you reacted to something you thought wouldn’t be a big deal.
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The other day I was goofing around with my friends, we are seven in number, quite a large group we have, yeah I know!
Along the way, just between the lines, playfully, between cracking jokes one of my very good friend said that I’m a little clever (She meant that NOT in a good way). I was a little taken aback by her revelation.

I obviously ignored it superficially but it was on my mind all day long, it still is and I think it always will be. She is kind of one of my best friends from that group and for her to think of me like that was a surprise (and not a good one!). I’ve to admit it did hurt me deeply. I’as really surprised by how intense I felt about it.

It is true to some extent that friends can tell you things that you may miss in your personality. They can help you to be a better person. They can help you to improve yourself.
But it is a fact as well that, who knows you better than yourself??? No matter how close the other person is to you, they can’t know you better than yourself. If you look a little closely, dig a little deeper within yourself you’ll see the real you. You’ll see who you really are. No matter what others say, you know yourself better than others.

I’ve always wondered this all my life, Why do people always fail to see the Real Me? Yes I admit I can be a little quite at times, I don’t express my feelings that vigorously, my words are sometimes not that explainable and my actions are not that understandable but they are always with a good intent in my heart. That doesn’t give anybody a right to judge me. Does it?

Nobody in my life has ever been able to see the Real Me, Except maybe my dad to some extent and my best friend ‘S’. But why do other people fail to see the real me???
Yes I can “seem” to be a little distant at times, I can “seem” to come out as being cold but why don’t they look around that exterior and see ME. The compassionate, kind and a very sensitive Me.

The Me who cries about as little thing as seeing a frail boy selling flowers on the road. The Me who cries on watching a beautiful scenery. The Me who cries when somebody calls her selfish.

The Me who cares about showing kindness. The Me who cares about their every problem. The Me whose heart aches for when I see them suffering. The Me who cries for them in the dark.

The Me who may not show them how much I love them but really care for them deep down in my heart.

Why?

Is it so much to ask to see the real me? Is it that hard?

Why?

I’ve come to a conclusion though, It is always going to hurt me when people will judge me, when people will fail to see the real me. But I can’t really do anything about it.
What matters is that I’m happy with who I am. I’m glad that when I look inside myself I see a good person. I see exactly the person I wanna be.

I guess that gives me hope. Maybe someday, someone will come along who will see me for who I am. Take a one look at me and understand all the things unsaid.

But that day, that someone has not come yet. That day is not today. Today I’ll be hurting…

Rest In Peace: Part 1

I was sitting in my English Literature class when my ‘Head of the department’ came to call my name and asked me to bring my bag with me. All my friends gave me confused looks but I was just as confused as them. As I got out of the class HOD told me that my father has come to pick me up.

I saw my dad sitting in the lobby. As soon as i saw him i gave him a huge hug as he’d been away for a week, on a conference, out of the country. His eyes were blood-shot but I thought it to be due to jet lag, after all he had a long flight back home (but little did i know then). I asked him why did he come to my university specially to pick me up so early. He said Nothing really but JUST looked at me with those bloodshot eyes and a sad smile on his face.
And I KNEW…I just knew at that moment that something was wrong. I never before in my life had such feeling. But this time I felt it in my gut. Deep down i knew something was wrong.

As we made our way out of the university, I asked him again about why did he come. He avoided my inquiry and instead said “You won’t miss any of your classes, right? There wasn’t much studies going on?” (as it was my first day of uni and it’s usually a very slow day)
I assured him there wasn’t much i was missing and asked him again that why were we going early today. He again avoided my question and said my brother ‘S’ is coming with the car, we’ll go early today.
All these thoughts were going through my mind, was my mum okay ? Did something happen to her and my dad is not telling me about it? Did someone had an accident?
I was thinking about it when my brother ‘S’ came to pick us up and i sat in the car.

It was then, when i saw my mobile and saw my big brother ‘M’ text that his daughter ‘Y’ has passed away this morning, I understood why my dad was acting so weird. As i saw the text, read it again and again, I couldn’t believe my eyes, What i was reading. It must be a mistake. I must be seeing a dream, right?!

Because his daughter was just so young, only 6 months and 3 days old. She was right there. Healthy and cute and bubbly. How could it be? It was just 6 months ago when she was born and i held her for the very first time in my arms. Her tiny, doll-like body fitting perfectly into my embrace. She was right THERE in my arms.

She had a whole life ahead of her. I was supposed to be her favorite aunt. I was yet to spoil her with my love and making sure her every wish came true.

It was just a while ago when she came to our house with her dad and mom to visit her grandfather and grandmother for the very first time. And i remember her in a yellow frock with a cute smile, those huge brown eyes, that big nose just like her father. She slept right there in my arms. How can she be gone? Just like that?

I sat in the car thinking about it all. We had some family issues with my Big brother ‘M’ so we didn’t use to see each other a lot. Truth be told I saw my niece only 3 times in 6 months. We weren’t that much on talking terms. We weren’t completely cut off from each other though but there was something between us that kept us apart.

But all of it wasn’t suppose to matter as my niece wasn’t suppose to die so young. I was supposed to have many, many years to spend with her. She was supposed to watch ME grow old and die, not the other way around.

We made our way back to our house and i sat in the back seat, not paying any attention to my surroundings, staring outside but not really seeing anything. I was physically there but somewhere else in my mind.
As I listened to my dad make different calls and attend some, arranging everything, I thought to myself why was i feeling this way?

It’s not like I’ve not lost anyone before, my grandmother passed away when i was very little…i just remember bits and pieces about her. Then my grandfather passed away about two years ago, i wasn’t that close to him and i didn’t feel sorry for him either as he had passed away at the age of 89. He had lived his life to the fullest. He wasn’t dependent on anyone except the last few days before his death. He was healthy and alright despite of his old age. He had seen his grandkids grow old and play.

But my niece died before she even had a chance to live. And then i realized why i was feeling that way because no matter what differences we and my brother ‘M’ had in the past, his daughter was still our blood. My blood !
Blood has that attraction that nothing in the world can really break.

I wanted to cry but i have this weakness that i can’t really cry in front of anybody. (Sure my mom, dad and brothers have seen me cry at times, but very rarely). This is one of the reasons i come across as cold, hard and selfish to some people. Even my own family thinks that about me(except my dad). I can’t help but accept that I was a little worried that i wasn’t gonna cry there and everybody would think I’m a stone cold b***h who doesn’t give a damn.

We reached our house and I changed my clothes. Me, my brother ‘S’ and my dad made our way to my brother ‘M’ house.
My mom had already gone there, as soon as she got the news.

So, Just like that our lives had changed forever, Our blood had gone from amongst us and we were left to deal with the aftermath.

(I’ll write about the part 2 as soon as i get time. I’ve been really busy. This piece of writing is not specifically to get sympathies, It’s me writing about what I’m feeling as I can’t talk to anybody about what i feel. Thank you)