Two.

As much as I want to forget that night, I want to remember it. 

Sometimes, when I sit in an empty bus, staring out the window, scenes play in my head, scenes so fantastical that I can’t tell which is real and which is just imagination anymore.

But this night, I remember. And every single time I wish I would forget it.

You see, the night has a way of making you believe that you can do anything, and it will be a secret forever. It tricks you into trusting it. 

I want to remember as much as I want to forget. 

The way everything I had ever felt spilled and overflowed, a frenzy, running out of containers.

And all to a complete stranger. 

I want to remember as much as I want to forget. 

How every person who saw us smiled, pretending to be oblivious to our intertwined hands, and your face inches from mine.

Knowing that it would be the headlines in tomorrow’s papers.

But most of all I want to remember, as much as I want to forget, a single line said in a drunken stupor…

“You two make a lovely couple”.

I want to remember. I want to forget.

I wish I could do both.

One Day.

My Dear,

One day, there will be a woman who will look at you a certain way and you will remember why you fell for her every time.

She will be the one who takes your boyish charm, and brings out the best in you.

She will be the one you want to see everyday. No matter where she is. She will make you go the distance. She will make you want to spend three hours on the bus just to see her smile for one.

One day, there will be a girl who will make all your 2 am knocks on the front door last forever.

And she will be the one who makes you rise above all the noise and listen to what really matters.

I hope you find her, wherever she is. I hope that she will be the person to you that I once wished I was.

I’m no judge of character. But something tells me that you are better than you try to be. And I know that you can be. 

Be the person that you are proud of. Be the person that doesn’t need to listen to his friends to make his own choices. Be the person who you can respect. That version of you is in there somewhere.

I may never say this to you the way I will now. And in two weeks we may never meet again. A time in my life is about to be over, but a part of me wants to remember you. And I can’t help wishing you would remember me.

I see you from time to time. There’s so much I wish I could say but the boundaries of what is proper tell me the past is to be left alone. And in two weeks I will no longer pretend to be oblivious as my mind searches the crowds. There will be no crowds to search.

I see you. And as I take a look, trying to fuse this last memory of you to my brain, I realize…

There is nothing left to say.

Hide and Seek

Hide and seek is our favorite game.
You hide and I’ll count to ten.

Sometimes I hide and you search the crowd for a familiar face.

1… I close my eyes

2…

In my mind I have already kept tabs on all your possible moves.

Behind a lamp post, in front of endless steps.

You could be anywhere.

3… Sometimes, you disappear for weeks.

4… 

There are days when I don’t want to play anymore.

5… After all, this is just a children’s game.

6… Maybe that’s all we are, that’s all we ever were.

7… Do you even know we are playing? 

8… Nothing is off limits, and so I know I may have to wander endlessly, wondering if I will ever see your face again.

9… I will keep searching a sea of strangers until the day I wake up and forget what your face looks like. Just for the joy of winning. I’ve always been a sore loser.

It’s almost time to open my eyes and begin again.

But this time, I wish 10 wouldn’t be the next number.

Because even the best games get old.

I don’t want to search anymore. I don’t want to seek.

But I can’t help myself, so

10… Ready or not here I come.

Screens.

We speak through screens 

Hiding behind profile pictures

Filters after filters after filters 

To look better than we are. 

To be better than we are.

And those moments that once captured our hearts are captured in time capsules of metal.

Memories that burn and etch themselves into our souls are double taps. 

And those which we want to forget? 

Delete. Delete. Delete.

There are some things which can’t be. There are some which shouldn’t. 

Open your eyes. Look around you. 

See.

Really see.

And maybe, just maybe you’ll remember what it’s like to feel again. 

To be brave enough to feel again.

Evolved.

You were different.

Different from how I remembered, different from how we’d left things.

This time, there was no tension, no palpable hurt, no desire.

Just a small urge to relive the past, for just one moment. Just one.

To remember the kind of person you were when you’d left, to remember the hurt as if it were yesterday…

To hate.

But it was hard to do that, when the person standing in front of me was a glimpse of a person who I’d once known, who I’d once thought existed under all the layers of suave, cold, indifference.

Why couldn’t you have been this person always?

And so, we challenged each other silently, daring the other to speak the words that we didn’t have the courage to utter.

And instead, it was swept under the carpet, wiped away, as if it never happened.

Is that the bliss of ignorance? Is that the way we convince ourselves?

It works, by all means.

 

Green.

It was perfect. Sleek and slender like how it ought to be. Something she had never even dreamed of.

It brought people together,

Conversations, pouring endlessly,

Things she could only comprehend when the edges of her vision swirled…

Splashes of colours, fog, smoke…

Hazed.

And tonight, when she took that beautiful body into her hand and breathed it in

The night sky shone.

Brilliantly, twinkling with cheer

Biting cold.

And the silence brought music to her ears, the music of her world, but also of universes thousands of galaxies away,

As far as the farthest universe…endless, infinite.

Fingers numb, eyes alive, and soul quiet

In that moment nature and soul combined

The conversation that brought them together, like long lost brothers.

Requiem.

It’s a normal day. Perfectly normal.

Until it isn’t.

Because today, it all ends.

The pain in his heart, the rejection, the hurt…

He’s forgotten himself, he’s forgotten where he comes from, he’s forgotten everything that ever meant anything to him. He’s forgotten that he’s just a kid.

Just a kid.

His vision is poisoned by hate. His heart is locked in a cemented wall.

He is a killing machine.

And each bullet he fires is like fuel to his crazed brain, it’s exhilarating, and he’s never felt more powerful.

But the pain still stays.

The gun he holds in his hand has now given him a name. It will forever be his name in history.

And the pain will be forgotten, written away, spit on…

Because now, he is just a murderer.

Nobody wants to know how a murderer feels like. Nobody cares. Nobody pities them.

And for that reason, his cries will go unheard. He has nothing to live for.

He isn’t the only one.