It’s Day-720, I’m stuck here with my dreams in a closed shell. Engulfed in the darkness. I’m penning my words which I can’t see and feel anymore. I cannot foresee outcomes anymore like I used to do. No more am I able to fix broken things, let it be hearts or something intangible. I don’t understand why no one understands my rhythm, Why do I always have to match someone else’s notes?
I know you’re now accustomed to all my rants and endless conversations with mind-boggling conclusions, but everything is worth the Poetry that I inked onto your pages. Isn’t it? I know you acknowledge my writings by turning your pages around during the windy day and stopping at that one piece of write-up that’s close to my heart. I know you acknowledge my writings by awaiting at the desk. Suited up, waiting to register a new write-up which you turn into a masterpiece. You’ve hidden the most valuable feelings of mine in yourself. And I know they are safe with you, although you don’t come with a lock, we both share a secret spell, don’t we? I hope you didn’t forget the secret spell, it’s the “Rain”. Both of us come together to rejoice our old times, just beside the coffee mug you find your place.
And you turn me into a poet, an amazing one. Well, you’ve turned me into a blogger one such amazing day. I started ideating things and sketching ideas on you and you were glad, that I no more tore pages from you. The bitter relationship has now moved to the “Backspace” key on the keyboard. I know your situation, you’re quite happy that “No more I’m sketching silly things” and sad about the fact that “No more do I get to spend time with you”. But you understand right?, Things have changed for me now, I’ve killed my inner self, I’ve killed all my hobbies just to carry a fake smile on my face, which ensures my professional life is not all ducked up. What else can I do?
Giving up on you was the last thing I could ever imagine, but I was at the verge of extinction, I secluded myself from everything so that I could survive. But when I come back to you, all the emotions splurge out in form or Words, Words that skip a heartbeat for many readers, Words that helped me get out of the toughest phases in my life, Words that gave a whole new meaning to my creations. And here I’m, lost in my own battle, fighting my own demons.
Maybe I should’ve taken a break and visited you every weekend like the old times. However, we both are busy I guess, Me with my hectic professional job and you would be busy bitching the electronic gadgets hanging around with you. Well, this is life.
I do make a promise to you this day that the last day of my life, you will be burned down to ashes with me, you will accompany me in my after-life, because, my words are what I would carry at the end of everything.
Your Dearest Owner & Poet,
Image Source: My Diary & Tablet.