the rituals of breaking trends

Chapter-2
Short Skirts

When is the right time to break the trend of cliches. When would you know that years old trend of stupid cliches are actually very stupid. they are habitually binding and obscuring. We try to rationalize our mistakes by binding them to the cliches. The cliches try to become rational by binding themselves with our obstructions.
So this is a classic cliche tale of girl falling for a guy deeply in love. I was not naive or innocent when all this happened. But somehow I ended up thinking that whatever is happening, the guy, the feelings are going to be with me for whole life. I was so happy to find love of my love so early. Plus I was happy to find a guy who was in love with me, he was my friend before he proposed me. So yeah I was happy. We had this so called perfect chemistry little did I know that what is coming. The shit hit the fan when one fine day I found my best with my boyfriend. They were kissing each other. Yeyi…I love cliches. I was shocked, actually everyone was shocked. But I was the one who was shocked as well as devastated. So I did the most logical thing that came up in my mind at that time, I blurted out the most important question that popped in my mind at the time of crisis, “Why”. And just like that everything came crashing down around me. The building collapsed and my boyfriend died that day…..but then where was the cliche in it. So the saga of cliche continues with the answer my boyfriend gave me. My boyfriend asked me to leave, my best friend was standing there with a triumphant look on her face. I was so traumatized, I did the next logical thing possible, I left.
Leaving was the easy part but remaining that way was tough for me. Then for first time in my life ever I thanked my ego which helped me a lot, it helped me in staying away from the douche who cheated on me and took away two of my good friends away from my life. I mean come on my boyfriend was my good friend too. So I somehow kept my front and managed not to go back . Then came the prancing around, they flaunted each other as if they had the best catch ever with themselves. I would have suffered some more but Karma kicked their butt. They ended their so called affair. My ex cheated again. cliche…I know but true as hell. In this whole spiderweb of cliche, what was not cliche that this time when a plain Jane fell for a Jock, the jock didn’t fall for a short skirt. he fell for a Tomboy. In my cliche I was the plain jane, the boyfriend was obviously Jock and yep my best friend was Tomboy.
I was devastated this whole time, despite feeling momentarily rush of ecstasy but in my defence I had every reason to be sad. But somehow my plight was increased by the fact that my boyfriend didn’t pick a girl who was wearing a skirt shorter than mine. He fell for someone who was a lot like me. My best friend a I went along so nicely because we did have similar tastes. Well look at the extent the similarity, she selected the same guy as I did. My ex didn’t went for a model, he could have but he didn’t and that hurted most. and then he didn’t even continued what he started with my best friend. He just kept on drifting like and an idiotic plastic bag. A plastic bag which should be used only for collecting poop.

cliches are too cliche

I tried so hard to blame that it was a classic case of being a cliche, but the cliche ended at me. My realisation, that it was me not my boyfriend, who was cliche was shocking. It would have done wonders to my ego if somehow I could blame someone else for my plight because that is what cliches does, they make you weak. They make you skip rational thoughts. If could have somehow fitted an analogy with some cliche during my heartbreak I would have never realised my own flaws. The fact that reason of my breakup was not some other other girl or guy but it was my own insecurity of losing my guy to some short skirt.
For a very long time we have seen these cliche short skirts stealing our guys away. We mop after our guys. We blame them, both the girl and the guy. But never in million year we ever think that seriously , like really seriously the breakup was our fault. Because no amount of short skirt can really steal away your true love, which is again a cliche. It is like a cycle, we try to defend one cliche with another. We grasp it like it is life saving trend. While in reality we are just too weak to go for the reality and hence we compromise with cliches. We act like addicts and to justify our addiction we never question validity of cliches.
I discovered the reality during this heartbreak. I realised that we are fools to be addicted to cheap booze while we all can have single malt scotch. We are settling down for substandard shit while we can always have the real deal. Going through a heartbreak teaches you a lot of things. It teaches you life. It teaches you to take easy decisions. Like life is like coffee. You can make Americano out of it or just whip it with cream and ice; whichever suits you better; whichever defines you better. Just because we have seen it around in a certain way, it need not to be like that. We can classify it in simpler form. Simpler form like coffee with cream or scotch on rocks. Life is too sublime to be spent cliche to cliche.

homeless 🏚️ heartless 💔

“home is where the heart is” but if someone is heartless then where do they live. Forget they, they is very general term, I am heartless but I definitely not a homeless ragamuffin 😉 .
But really on a serious note, if I am unable to accept anything or anyone or anyplace with all of my heart then should I give up all hopes.
In my opinion we should start quoting “home is where the hope is” because I know that I might be a heartless person but boy do I ride the high horse of hopefulness. I hope everytime that this time I won’t need my “being heartless” facade to cover up my “💔 heart” reality. I hope everyday that maybe,… maybe today I will find love which would make my heart ♥ go soaring. But everyday my hope is crushed.
This has come down to the point where I have stopped looking for a home where my heart is. I have stopped not because I am afraid of being hopeful but because I am afraid I don’t have anymore heart left to be kicked out of a home. I have put myself out there way too many times to be managed by human heart and feel belongingness 😬
Now I have comprehended the phenomenon of heart i.e. to pump blood nothing more. I am not looking for a heart-full home anymore. I am now… romantically heartless hence declare me homeless…. romantically ;but I have hopes that could save the whole universe 🌌 so I guess I am not that homeless 🐢. Like once my heart was, I am wearing it on my sleeves. Because unlike heart, my hope is not fragile. My hope do not suffer from the defects of perfection. My hope knows how to survive anf shelter me in it.
For me my hope is my home 🏡.

serene red

Red is the color of victory-as said by wise researches of Britain. According to them wearing the color during sports increases the chance of victory. It increases the probability of winning. The fact here the color red has been associated with anger. With anger comes fierceness. And being fierce most certainly helps in winning.

Next the color red is associated with passion. Passion for success, love, pride, glory, happiness….passion for life. It’s all in this color that you need to feel deliriously for your favorite thing/person 😉 .

Red is the color for anger….deep, fathomless anger…giving birth to hatred or maybe not. You see red when you are angry or jealous.

Red is the color of love and lust. You want to express love to your sweetheart you select a red rose. You want to seduce someone wear red (well at least wearing red works for the fairer sex ….at least being the key word 😛 ).

In all, what I am trying to convey here is whenever someone says the color red all I can conjure up is warmth, passion, rage, love, angst and various infectious emotions. It’s the color with ebullient feeling maybe because the blood running in our veins are red in color. Maybe there is some other reason I am not aware of or maybe I am not intelligent enough to figure out why red is the all of above. But I got my share of lectures and suggestions….well most of the time I think when people give you suggestions they succumb to lectures after a while. Anyway so I got all the knowledge and lifesaving information about the color red when I decided to paint one wall of my living room in red color. Not a light shade of red or timid red. I chose the red as red as red. As lively as blood, as fierce as anger, as warm as love and as deep as passion.

I chose red because I was not consciously aware of the connection of red to all these emotions. What I was aware of was the fact that red is sun when it kisses the sea at dusk. Evoking lounging of lifetime for many, at the same time invoking fulfillment for a lot. For me red is the color of lightening sometimes when it lit up the sky at night, making patterns in the night sky for millions of us to watch in dark. For me red is the color of fall. All the red complementing graciously the floor of the earth. For me red is the star blinking somewhere hovering in the sky, just there at the corner. Assuming that all of us have seen some stars at least once in our lives 😛 .But above all red is the color which gives you dreams when you look at the crackling fire and could see a dance so ancient that it defies time. It’s the core of that fire which consists of everything yet it is so sublime that it could be as soothing as wind or water or just an old t-shirt. Red is the fire burning in our hearts ….that is what red for me….serenity.

Now you know why the wall is red because all this time it was serene red for me.

 

quote three….till the very end

for the final quote I have this….I pen this down for my beautifully treacherous ex-lover.

to love or to be loved

I heard it somewhere that I girl should choose the guy who loves her and not the one who she loves. But what if the one who loves  you farts loudly, chew with his mouth open and burp every now and then. So is love enough in this case. Can this love from the guy, make you ignore the toilet seat standing like the last warrior. Or the drawers left open to be closed magically….by you.
If the guy who loves you is really your type then wouldn’t you have fallen for him. There has to be some reason to be not in love with this guy.
And the guy, the one you are in love with if he is reluctant….read do not want….to have you in his life than sweetie I think you should take some time off and think about your love tactics. The one you want don’t want you and the one who wants you…. Who want him.
One suggestion from my side love is just a term dignified and exaggerated to define fluctuating hormonal activities so I wouldn’t be banking too much on this love thingy for my happy future.

when we had time

how hourglass stole each moments, stowing them away;

all the while waves were piling memories…

remember the day when you found me sitting all by myself, on the swing, staring at oblivious world of judgments. Some one at school said that you were my boyfriend, I was sad. I was sad not because it was right or wrong I was sad because that day I realized how different I am from others. I was and am different not because they were wrong or right but it is for the fact that you would always be that person in life who taught me everything. It was romantic in its own ethereal sense.

you remember the day when we had that nasty fight for remote-control and afterwards you came in my room with mocha latte as peace offering. we ended up on couch sleeping while the movie kept playing by itself, you have drooled all over my toes. then all of sudden we grew up.

i was buried inside every book of library and you were inside every walking female above legal age. we stayed partners as we were. you would come at my place tell me about how ravishing your new muse is and how un-ravishing food she made you for breakfast. Then one day you decided you should join the heavenly world of souls, rather fate decided that for you…for us. Your last words for me were to be brave, to stand tall no matter what.

but today I am afraid, I need you beside me like that day on swing. I want you to hug me and tell me that being different is exotic feeling and not the other way round. I want you to come at my place to tell me about your day, date and I want you to cook me my favorite and your signature “cheese omelette”. because I am tired of being brave. I am standing tall for so long, all alone, that my spirit is all tattered and crumbling.

I know what I am asking for is not possible, but please send your stand-by soon because we are running out of time.

 

 

 

the mind game

The game started three years ago. Pulling him in with charms was the part of it but not lesser then the punching him away by aloofness. She kept him puzzled (not the happy puzzled) all this time. Then enter my careless character. I got sucked right to the center of this drama. He fell for me as he has fallen for her. Difference is I was aloof whole time. But she has aloof and the charm (yes a plus one ingredient compared to my unity). At the end he went with her taking away my aloofness with him and handing me all the blame.

narcissist

call me narcissist;

i am in love with my writings.

 

 

fisherman

you are a really good fisherman,

and i am just but a foolish fish!!

falling in/out

We fall in love,

Stumble down so hard;

We roll out of destiny!!!