Whatever I have, it is something else I want.

Cold nights these. I love the cold, until it is cold, then I crave the warmth. When the sun comes out like a drag queen on stage, I am praying for rain. Whatever I have, it is something else I want. And this is what unhappiness is made of. It is December. I wrap myself…

A Journal of Undoing – Two

There are two kinds of waiting. One with a definitive end in sight, no matter the time. One without. The latter is a kind of waiting without waiting. Which means to say, you don’t know if things will ever change and you don’t want to bet on it, but each time you try and close the…

A Journal of Undoing – One

  There is a water balloon inside my rib cage. It strains and pushes. It wills itself space in a confine where there is none to spare. It has reduced my lungs to limp socks. It doesn’t let me breathe. Where now should this thought go? Do I put a leash on it and walk…

Quarantine

Protect the softest parts of you. The parts that look like hide but are as tender as kitten paws not yet touched the earth. Protect all the tired people in you. The ones who sigh, unable to bear another day. Who look too eagerly toward the ends of things. For whom, to be unseen and unremembered…

Unfickle 

Every night I coax my beloved to tell me again how she loves me. “I will never choose you,” she says with a steady and a voice that betrays only boredom. So many years now, but to my ears it still sounds as brittle as the breaking neck of a tiny bird. The mistake is…

Leaving town

It’s been a while since we met here, hasn’t it? I’m sorry I don’t do this oftener. It feels not dissimilar to gutting myself with a cheese knife. It’s not for lack of things to say, words, or even how I feel. It’s just measly armour. So pathetic. Always prided myself on such courage but I…

It will always be the little things

  It’s been two weeks. She’s not coming back. You’re not sure if that thought is going to pass quietly like a widow crossing herself silently in a church. Or if you’re going to wet your keyboard trying not to cry and failing pathetically. It will never be the big things that hurt you the most….

A eulogy to quotidian cruelty

One morning, my father and I were out driving. There was a dog running alongside the car. Dad hit the brakes and suddenly the dog had three good legs and one crumpled limb. It howled in pain. The kind of noise only animals are capable of making or knowing. My father simply drove on. He…

Let what you lose have no power over you

It takes a tragedy to remind you of what truly matters. And tragedy, like any other word, can be defined loosely by all, and specifically only by you. My epic tragedy may just be your comedy of errors. Your little catastrophe may be my little denouement. So you lost her. So you’re in pieces. So…