A Vintage Print

The light switch doesn’t go on on its own. But you’re too tired of getting up and trying now. It is too far away and you would rather stay on your bed and cry about it. It isn’t getting any closer to you with your whining but that’s the only thing you learnt to do to deal. You cry and you deal. Except this time, the dealing is a little too habitual and the machine in your head is too rusty. You’re in this house since two years doing the same thing every day and not expecting anything new. It keeps getting darker everyday. You don’t know the windows behind the curtains. You only know to peek. You like the comfort of the dark. You don’t have to look at the bruises on your face. You smashed the mirrors anyway. You let your anger out in quiet screams in the pillow, sometimes just nothing but heavy breathing which the walls absorb inside them and dull their colours. They’re sad with you. Four walls where your hurt is tangible, where it makes sense. So you stay there. That’s why the walls s...

I wish I'd not almost-known you.  Or, lost you.  In the mountains I never went, in the bonfire where we never sat across  I guess, when you lose someone from your life, you cannot really fit the image of your life-without-the-person in the beginning.  But you become accustomed to that image, in some time.  Suddenly, you want to test yourself.  And then, it hurts.  To see a new image of the-other-person's-life without you.  Truth is, it hurts to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar background.  It hurts to see a changed-version, almost like a new human being.  It's as if the person you had known has suddenly disappeared from the world, completely vanished.  It's almost like an illusion, same countenance but different characteristics.  It makes you feel empty, numb as if you'd whispered your secrets in the thin air and suddenly there was a storm. There are certain moments in our life which become a memory and become flagged in ...