The thing about patterns is that it is bound to repeat.
Fidget spinners were a big thing last year. We humans have a tendency to-conciously or subconsciously- twiddle with something when we are feeling anxious or skittish.
I saw my co-worker fiddling with a paper clip today and just staring off to seemingly nothing. Twice it happened. The second time I noticed, I asked “Are you okay?” and they replied “wha- yeah!” and I locked eyes with them before asking “Yeah?” and they paused before replying “yeah, absolutely!” with an almost enthusiastic smile.
20 minutes later I caught them staring at nothing again, but this time I offered them gum and indulged in silly talk.
You know the best thing about relationships? You can be there for someone without the other person knowing you are there for them. And vice versa.
Sometimes it’s okay to laugh. Sometimes it’s okay to cry. Sometimes it’s okay to gossip loudly. Sometimes it’s okay to not talk about anything. Sometimes it’s okay to love. Sometimes it’s okay to hate. Sometimes it’s okay to be proud. Sometimes it’s okay to be jealous.
The thing about patterns is that it is bound to repeat. The only thing you need to figure out is which pattern is yours.
I know of a time that encompasses all grief,
I know of a winter that was never cold,
I know of a spring that would never bloom,
I know of a summer that never came home,
I know of a sea that had no life,
I know of a star that would never shine,
I know of a professor who would always lie,
I know of a secret that was never mine,
I know of a land that would always fight,
I know of a work; nine to five,
I know of a fire that would never die,
I know of an emotion that was never right,
I know of a sheep that had no sight,
I know of a flower struggling to thrive,
I know of a god that was always right,
I know all this, but I am still stuck on you
While the sinners sin and the pious pray
She stands still as her shadow plays
Along the rhythms of the pitter patter
Of orchids pink and roses white
Her memory was vague, yet
She was the embodiment of everything right
She was the heart and soul
She was all the colors in the sky and more
She was a sight for the eyes gone sore
Her name suited her well
She was noble and fluid and classy as hell
She was also lost and distracted
The one thing I know for sure
Poetry only got better with hers to add to it
Everyone agreed she was the perfect allure
There was a reason why she distanced herself
and its harder to distinguish reality now
Her footprints will last for eternity now
If the hills were greener
And the skies bluer
I’d sing to you, by god, I’d sing to you
If the nights were darker
And my heart softer
I’d stay by you. That I swear to you
This post was originally written on 7th Jan 2017.
I LOVE people who genuinely try to spread positivity in this dark and bleak world. It could be anyone, from an air hostess to a stranger you may have met at a bookstore. Is there anything better than spreading happiness? Like honestly.
Okay, I admit there have been at least a couple of instances (in the last month alone) where I literally rolled my eyes at someone who was chirpier than I was. These were the thoughts passing through my head: “What a complete and utter ass!”, “Why in god’s name is this person so happy? Like have they seen this world?”, “Are they trying to rub it in my face? Like GODD!” – (Yeah… I may not have been in my best mood)
I have been thinking, though, we all are entitled to happiness in whatever dosage it may come. We are supposed to cherish it and maybe, just maybe try to extend it those around us. And this isn’t just reserved for people, animals are one of the greatest sources of exuberance that I know of.
Twenty-eighteen, we are coming for you with a vengeance for happiness.
I think I’m starting to lose my sense of purpose. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. It is getting tougher by the minute. It doesn’t help when literally everyone seems to be against you. When all I am trying to do is just fit in. What did I ever do to deserve this? It is gotten to the point where I constantly keep lying to myself. Keep telling myself that things will be better someday. I don’t know if I believe that anymore. I don’t know what I believe in anymore.
What I do know is that I love you. A lot. And I am going to do my best to help you through this. It will get better. I promise. I am going to make sure of that.
I knew this boy once. He was kind and young and naive. He adored his Mother. Even when other things made him happy, he always looked for her validation. He longed for it. He craved for it. Each year the yearning would grow. He would get it sometimes and when he did, it was like getting a treat after he had done something bad. It felt so wrong. It felt unknown. He was not used to this. Yet he could not help himself. He wanted more. The boy grew up resenting her. He only found his happiness in denial now.
One day he got his validation again. Age had changed his Ma. She became kinder with her words. She became more affectionate. But he was reluctant towards her feelings. He had only found disappointment in them for so long. It took him a while to come around. In all this time, he realized he still sought her approval. But this time he got it. Only it was short lived. For time always wins.