I’m gonna tell you something. And, it’s gonna sound bad, the kind you’ll never accept but deep down, will always know how true it is.

YOU ARE ALONE. AND YOU ALWAYS WILL BE.

It’s gonna suck, but ‘alone’ is what’ll stay with you till you’re here. You and I can still make a plan. The plan would be to make our plan work, unlike most of the plans that ever get made, just to be ruined with regrets and all that’s broken: hearts, relations and people.

You and I can be our only companions. We’ll take ourselves out to dates, order two cups of coffee at the best coffee shop, and have them both. We’ll walk from one city to another, with our cameras. And I know we’ll see ourselves in people and things we take pictures of.

You and I can sit in the library and cry, holding the best of books in our hands, yet looking out the window at a tree somewhere in the distance. You and I could be the adults who still look at clouds and imagine the animals they’re shaped like, only because the children we were (or could never be) are talking to us in the back of our heads.

You and I could be sitting at cafés, long after we’ve finished our food, with phones switched off and kept in the innermost pockets of our bags.We could be counting stars, even when the Sun is out and disappoint those who cannot. We’ll colour our hair the colour of the Sun, the trees, the sky, even that of blood, all at different points of time or at once. And they, they’ll see us. We’ll make them.

Now, do you remember what I told you? No?

Let’s step back a little and face reality.

YOU ARE ALONE. AND YOU ALWAYS WILL BE.

But, you and I will never be lonely.

You

I'm sorry. 
It's not you I'm talking to.
It's the you you've always wanted to be.

Have you ever wondered: Where did the words you'd written in your diary ages ago come from? Where are the pages that have now turned yellow with time, waiting for the touch of your skin? And where are the questions you forgot to ask as a child?

Have you ever wondered?

The answer's there, right there. With you. In you.

In the thoughts you can no longer put into words, for your heart's in the woods, in the songs of the traveler, who has no care in the world.
In the clouds that thunder with the light of your soul that blinds your eyes, turns your skin damp and cold.
In the mirror you keep looking into, hating what you see. Thinking that that is all you'll ever be. 

But that, my friend, is the answer. 

You are that traveler, singing under the leafless tree, still full of life but with scars that won't heal. 
You are the cloud that rains with melancholy in the sky, roaring with the sins of the days that wait to be forgotten. 

And that is what you look at, when you look into the mirror. 
You look, but, what you got to do is see. You are who you wished to be.

Start Over

How often have you packed your bags just to take them back to where you started from? 

How often have you desperately needed a shoulder to cry on and got nothing but cold shoulders? 

How often have you stayed up till 4 am, staring at the ceiling,at nothingness? 

How many times have you held on to things for so long that you ended up hurting yourself, with damages and  irremediable breakdowns?

Always, right?

So, for a change, let things be the way they are and move on.

Forget the guy who judged you for being you. You know you’re love.

Kick those rebukes you had with your friends out of your head. If you know they aren’t your people, stand alone for a while. Have faith in God, alone does no harm. Look for ‘your’ people.

Meet your family when possible. Don’t wait for days when you’ll beg God to give you the time you let pass by when you shouldn’t.

Do what you love. And do it with love.

If you’re in love, cheers! If you aren’t, wait for it. Let it take it’s own sweet time and wander around looking for you till it finds you.

Be brave enough to say goodbyes.

Whisper promises. Keep them.

Scream. Cry. Breakdown. Fall apart. Fall back together. Hold hands.

Live. Love. Breathe.

Hemmed Light

All that she ever touched 

had become a part of the ocean 

that she'd painted in her head.

 Her hands were pieces of the old blue sky.

 In them were buried a myriad stars

 that died years ago,

 but their light still gleams

 from out of her fists.

 And when she wished

 on shooting stars,

 a parachute would descend

 from that sky to this, 

and land on either of 

the palms of her hands.

Drive On

In your journey, one day, you'll realize that you've always been both the driver and the passenger in the car. And you've always had a license even if you never applied for one. If this hits you when you reach the cul-de-sac, just don't break down, please! Gear up, turn the car around, and go all the way down to take another road. 

For every humble beginning, something has to end. Be it the song you've been singing, the thoughts you've been thinking, or on a heart-numbing note, the life you've lived so far. So, start anew.

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Man, there are so many of us just gazing at the sky, wishing! Hoping to turn our lives into great stories before we near the end. Hoping to get someone to grow old with or that someone we love stays. And we're there, just there in the moment, stuck and free- falling at the same time. But, who knows, somebody somewhere may be doing the same.