Raging Wildfire

You tell me to breathe. You tell me to calm down. “Take it easy. There is no chaos. It’s all in your head”. You are trying to help me. I understand. I appreciate. But you are making it harder for me. Because I am not on the same rhythm as you. I feel a little too deeper for you to come in pace with my emotions. I am on my high, which can be madness to you, but it’s regular for me. The intensity which is intimidating to you is passion for me. You find me bizarre? Yes I am a chaos. Yes my demons laugh louder. My soul is stuck to my action and everything I speak or do or feel is ruled and controlled by it. My emotions are more delicate than quill and fiercer than wildfire. Yes I am compulsive and possessive and crazy.  How do I express what I need from you? I have no clue myself. There is never a dull moment for me. I am always on extremes. If I am falling for it, that owns me. Everything I own, owns me. Give me the world or nothing. A petty theft means nothing to me. There is no Gray for me. Things are black or white. I love you or I hate you. This is wrong or this is right. There is no middle ground. I don’t know why you can’t see it. Fine if you don’t, but don’t you tell me it isn’t there what I can see more clearly than the bare reality in front of eyes. I’d rather be doomed by my honesty than be confined with my untruths.

Those eyes are not blank, those breaths are heavy, those eye lashes are burdened and I can’t ignore that. You have to look at me and let me read you. I can’t focus on your words because I can’t see beyond those eyes of yours which have an underlying story beneath them.

How can you be so calm? I can’t trust those whose soul doesn’t reflect in their eyes. And I am no romantic partner that you wish to go on dinners with, and I am no damsel in distress who need you to rescue her. I am not going to write you poems. I can’t dress up for you. I’ll not decorate your room with candles. No scents will work on my sensuality. I’ll not enjoy sitting in bathtub with you. I’ll not praise you if you haven’t impressed me. I am far beyond these gestures.

I am desperate to seek the souls of people I feel close to, and if I lose that urge, probably there is nothing which will be left of me. And I love you in a way that I don’t need to touch you. I can write to you and I can bake for you. I can keep this going with a small photograph of yours in my purse. I don’t have to see you every day to be with you.

The world doesn’t appear to be an amiable place. Every one of us are going to kick the bucket in the long run. But why this trial of that even when you aren’t anywhere near.  Looks like we are already killing ourselves to practice the ultimate D-day. I am not going to give it away because it hurts. I don’t care if you fail. Your failure is my failure. Love for me is a raw emotion. It takes every bit of your spirit. All that you can bring to the table. And if you are here to offer any lesser than that, I am not game for it. It is beautiful to have a coffee together and not ruin it with words, and it is absolutely okay to sleep next to each other and not cuddle. There is nothing which can stop us from loving. Not even we can stop ourselves.

You tell me that I am too intimidating to approach, I have no idea why. I’m so simple. Without any mask. You will see me for exactly who I am. I can’t even keep a poker face if I have good cards in my hands. The spark in my eyes gives it all away. Nowadays its mainstream, if you aren’t fake, you aren’t real.

If you love me don’t just talk to me sweet nothings. That’s way too superficial. A connection should be deeper than that. You can explore the darkest of me and destroy me and it won’t matter because it should be worth killing for. That fire should burn you.

I have only realized one thing so far. People stab you again and again in the name of friendships and relationships yet they wonder why you are bleeding so much. And there are times when you hate yourself for loving so profoundly. You know you are accepting the love that shouldn’t be enough to you. But what a circus. You enjoy the excruciating magnificence of seeing yourself walking through the flares while you refuse to flinch.

You don’t like me. Why?? Because I am not here to please you. Because I can’t make everyone happy. Basically I tried, it just didn’t work for me. So I made my peace with it. I did not care to try any further. I prefer to live in my old blanket on a sunny day instead of going out grabbing drinks with strangers, who can become my friends on the cups of beers. I’m a misfit in crowd but I am surrounded in empty fields and soaring clouds. I prefer to be high on caffeine and play the same song which I might be hearing from maybe high school and there is nothing extra ordinary about it, nothing really, just the familiarity of the music and words and just the sentiments which got attached with it over time. And feeling like I am 16 and can watch that old B-grade movie which was an utter flop, instead of watching that new sci-fi action, chime in a tune which has neither rhyme nor reason, prefer to not take shower for the day because the blanket seems like ultimate insurance, I didn’t go out, no germs or dust got me. And not cooking because I am lazy so just hogging on the cliché “Death by Chocolate” knowing that it’s been a while since I have followed my gym routine and I am in no shape (literally) to take these chances. These imperfections make me. I like these scars, this unwashed messy hair in high ponytail and this loose pajamas with those tires hanging around my body, I mean really, who cares. I am not a mess. I am perfectly normal, or perhaps extraordinary, if I talk immodestly. Make your peace with it or let it go.

“Now if I ever lose someone for having too much depth, for having too much soul, for having standards too high, for dreaming to big, for putting work before play, for keeping it real, For loving too hard, for pushing them to see that the grass is only green where you water it…Then the loss was never mine to begin with”

Isn’t this life better than those pockets full of empty promises, where mascara is ruined by the tear drop trickling on your cheek and concealer does a sucky job of hiding that scar on your soul? I think they were talking about you when they said, “…and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, ‘That was fine’. And your life is a long line of fine”

You think I am broken? Well, have a look again. I have the strength of fixing your world all over again. I have the infinite love to heal it. I have the innate ability to be myself in this world which has gone against me.  Yes, I have moments when I am not able to stand on my own because my anger and my sadness pulls me down. Fine Judge me for disrepair without actually addressing the reasons that broke me.  But remember, everyone has a darker corner of their soul, an unsaid story within them which world knows nothing about and in those moments when we call them cold, they might be just sad. And I am one of those. These eyes have seen so many tragedies and this heart has felt so many sorrows, yet I feel happy and smile at the beauty of colors. If this shouldn’t make me feel fabulous and grateful about myself, I don’t know what will.

 

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