Not Troubled.

SOURCE

When life is better, it gets boring.

I don’t have any more crises to agonize over.

Occasionally, Ph makes me wonder if it is possible to love and hate a person at the same time, but I choose not to dwell on it for long, knowing it’s for the best.

This stillness takes me back.

As a kid, I had a book with sketches of a woman and a man in each page.

The man would always be standing next to the woman.

One night my Mother asked me to stop drawing ‘such images’.

I stopped eventually, but not because she asked me too.

It never occurred to me why she said so then but now I do.

It was too ‘indelicate’ for a kid to harbour thoughts of a man and a woman and put it to ‘art’.

I’m not a sex maniac now, and never will be but I can never comprehend the drawings.

Contradictions and Love.

SOURCE

There are days when I doubt my principles. Perhaps my take on life is a little too contemporary to accede or worse, just selfish.

Insomnia visits me like an old friend, on a night where I need that sweet little escape from reality and all its nuances.

I look at KS and serenity shows on his beautiful slumbering face. On this night, overwhelmed with emotions, I had told him that the only ‘unbecoming’ thing I did to my Parents was being in his bed.

‘But you’re going to be my wife someday’, was his honest consolation.

I believed him. I have believed in everything that he has ever proclaimed to me for 61 months now and I haven’t been disappointed yet. Touchwood.

There are days when I feel like I have let everyone down. They say to follow your heart, but what if the heart wants the dangerous bit?

I stayed off the drinks last night. It’s not the hardest thing in the world for me but my Mother would’ve been proud to know!!

Sometimes I do these little insignificant things that are usually expected of me, merely to feel safe and guarded within the integrities of my upbringing.

It’s my way of balancing all the defiance’s that I’ve gotten myself into, for the Love of LOVE.

The Black Sheep.

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 Someone rightly said we write about the things we can’t speak about.

Perhaps, unconsciously, the reason why I am blogging.

And absolutely the reason why I typed a tactless message and pressed send. Five seconds later, my Father would’ve read it. And it wasn’t the usual slip-up of the wrong recipient. It was written exclusively for him and Mother, aimed directly at their egos, shot through their hearts.

If you knew me personally, you wouldn’t believe the things I wrote. I thought I liked being capricious but not this way.

What breaks my heart most is that, the content of that message, though rather selective and selfish, was not mistaken.

My Father kept calling me back and when it was finally clear that I wasn't in a mood to talk, he left a message that read "Don't feel bad R, You are the best child any parent could wish for. Mummy and I Love you very much."

Now I'm in this huge chamber of guilt and remorse and I don't know if I can ever come out of it.

I shook their little peace and I’m just a sober, stubborn, selfish, churlish, needy kid.

It would’ve been easier coming from a junkie child.

I could tell you what the message read, but I don't like to be judged. I couldn't even tell KS and he is my secret keeper.

And also because it is what I'm trying to forget, yet it keeps on reiterating in my selfish little head.