"Sometimes, I give myself the creeps!"

There are times when I think of running away. To some other city, country, world…any place, where I won’t have those goddamn voices chasing me, haunting me, scaring the shit out of me! And then there are times, when I don’t feel like coming out of my den. Hiding in comforting darkness, I have my thoughts, dreams and fantasies keeping me sedated, near oblivious of the world around. I lie on my bed, wrapped in comforting numbness, and shun the world at large.

There are times when I feel I have it in me to own the world, to queen over it. And when I have those sudden spurts of confidence, I find an unfamiliar zest for life pulsing through me, pounding in my blood, asking me to go and grab what I deserve. And for the rest of the time, when I am no longer hung over from spirits, I find my confidence hitting the bottom with a clank! I retreat to a corner, shying away from prying eyes, lying smiles.

There are times when I give free rein to the kid inside me. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, not caring about kohl, mascara or any other facade that I have put on. Laughter rings out – loud, pure and clear. At times other than this, am a young lady, all prim and proper, my silence intimidating, my looks deceiving. And then there are times, when I hover in between – who am I, where am I going? For whom am I going? Is there anyone out there, waiting for me?

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps.
Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me.

It all keeps adding up, I think I am cracking up.

Am I just Paranoid? Am I just Stoned?
(Basket Case, Green Day)

Tale of a Child, Who is a Bit Wild!

The woman has enough on her plate. The child is quite a handful. The child pines and whines, all day long. She pines for what she can’t have, and whines as to why she can’t have them. The woman reasons with her, and tries to make her find happiness in the small joys of life. Sometimes she succeeds and the child’s laughter rings out, loud and clear. Sometimes, the child is inconsolable and the woman just browbeats her into silence. After all, the woman always has the last word.

The woman has enough on her plate. The child is quite a handful. The child won’t let go of anybody who comes close to her. Even if she annoys them to death, she refuses to let them alone. She would cling on to them, her tiny fingers clutching at them with all their might. The woman distracts her, so that these people can move away. She tries to keep her from being a nuisance to other people, she teaches her to live on her own. At times, the child grudgingly lets go of the people but most of the times, the woman tricks her into doing that. After all, the child can never get better of the woman.

The woman has enough on her plate. The child is quite a handful. Love is what she hankers after – care is something she can never have enough of. Give her a bit of love, and she can renounce the world for you. The woman wants her to be selfish. She warns the child that there are people out there who can barge into her world one day, only to leave in a huff some other day. The child does not give a damn to what the woman says. And she suffers. And she breaks down. The woman takes charge. The child recedes in the background, in some dark room, away from the prying eyes. Right now, the woman is in charge – the child is locked up somewhere, waiting to be freed…

She Died Last Night

She died last night. Oh yes, she is still trotting around, – look, there she goes, a book tucked under her arm! But she’s all ‘plastic’, if you know what I mean? Plastic smile, plastic memories! She died when she discovered that he was more ‘alive’ than he had ever been, while he was with her! “More alive”– that’s crappy stuff! How can someone be “more alive”? Well, she had never seen that look in his eyes, that piercing look that she spotted now, when he looked at her – the new girl in his life. That one look had killed her, had sapped her of love, life and if there is anything beyond them.

She died last night. Oh yes, she is still working her ass off! You would rarely find anybody else who slogs for such good many hours. Crisp words of praise are still coming her way. And she is smiling that plastic smile. It no longer reaches her eyes. Hollow eyes; bereft of dream and hope. She died when she found out that his arms were home to someone else now. She had always wanted to lose herself in his arms. To call it her home, she didn't have any other. But now they have sheltered somebody else and held her more tightly, than they had ever held her. That hug had somehow left her feeling cold, and the coldness won’t go away, no matter how many blankets she piled on.

She died last night. Oh yes, she still replies to all the texts and phone calls, and is as prompt as ever in getting back to you, if you leave a message for her. But the fingers and the lips move mechanically. Her brain prompts her, her heart is numb, and no, not comfortably numb! The numbness, at times, tampers with her facade, and then you get those blank stares that might leave you at a loss! She died when she discovered that he isn't coming back! No. No. A bit of spring cleaning, and he has thrown away the most useless part of his life – Her. That one revelation has slackened her grip on life. Her love for life has perhaps become extinct – there is nothing left of it.

She died last night. Are you coming to her funeral?