She stopped reading and it's a curse,a fatal curse which might slowly chew off her idle brain and then envelope her skull with its silvery venom making her to talk and smile on things which means nothing to her.
Though not everything means anything but anything must mean something,even if a little.And that she learnt or understood by diving into an abyss of words where so many things means so much.Knowing them,she made her way to the peculiarity of this..simply put,this world.And she loves it.She learnt to love the world.But now she stopped.How sad actually.As she stopped venturing into other world,into other's lives,she remember and got hit by the reality that how ugly she is.How the heart she thought was gentle,now under the scrutiny of glasses,was actually no more than a puddle of muddy blood.Her mind as serene she thought,was still wired wrong at the weak spots and full of cacophony of various voices of dead people.Along with these amazingly, the extra fat on her waist really really got on her nerve and so did the fly-away hair strands made her frown.The bed looks ugly too and the fridge seemed a haunted site as they contained few bread loaves and cheese and veggies for salad.No sweets,agony.The books,piles of classics and modern stories murmur in a corner,like a group of sophisticated old wise men and abstract,surrealist writers clubbing over if they should glow during the fuzzy evening when the girl would lazily be lying on her bed contemplating the history or they should just fall into a deep slumber,cutting off all the ties of recovery.
She woke up from her sleep next day with the first bleak solitary ray of sun and made herself tea.Green.Jasmine flavored.She added no sugar,not under the influence of unwanted fat and thus the concern of calories but she felt the need to taste the strained water and realize,how a warm soft,beautiful looking matter in her mother's bone china can be bitter,like the reality,but at the same time is healthy as her therapist said.The day gently became alive with the 6 A.M alarm getting switched off far away,the whistle of the pressure cooker at her neighbor's,the sun sparsely spreading,revealing half of her reading table.She started walking,softly at first and then tripping over at the same place every time where carpet was folded on edge.She promised never to fall,but she did.Every unfortunate time.Bruising her toes and mind,she sat lazily on the couch,single sitter although,she coiled herself like a sleepy cat and fell into her usual daydream with her favorite people in it until the person came.The person now dead and was last seen in a mental health hospital,controlled her.The person with the gentle tap on her slimy back,took her to the smallest rooms of the Playhouse and stripped her down and left her cold and sleepless for nights to come.She tried and was consoled but she couldn't forget the roughness of the touch she endured.Suddenly,she jerked up and sat back composed,staring thoughtlessly at her feet.She moved into her cave, (not a real one,very sorry) closing the way out and hurriedly snuggled into the heavy mink blanket.She didn't sleep.She kept her eyes stuck to the window from where the wide orange rays breaking fast the false glass barrier and collapsing on her chalky walls.She,non-interestingly,started a thread of questions but got stuck on one-"Where is my story moving to?".
She flashed a smile as questioning this would mean nothing.She remembered asking the same joint on one of her vacations while strolling somewhere in the forgotten woods and the fresh fragrant pines whispered her the answer.The reply was profound and deeply touched her but moving along with the caricatures of life,she forgot it,the essence for what she was really alive and how much that meant to her.She turned her head to the right and looked at those piles of talkative books and closed her eyes.She looked outside and she knew what would be left for her are just dreams and so she looked inside,saw her reflection on the clear imaginary lake and as she knew, was kind of left awakened.She saw face blemished with thoughts.Thoughts of love and care lying over her lashes,thoughts of gentleness and rudeness on her lips,fallen leaves hanging by her ears.But what mattered the most was the yearn,a plead dropping dewly on her chin.She couldn't resist that plead and had to move it away,far away.She walked back and saw herself again,this time,cozily under the gulf of the blanket and finally noticed the murmur of the wise men talking about the truth,running no agenda.
She tip-toed to the group of wise men,so they would not stopped their discussion.They were talking about her.She heard Mr.Joybell saying...
"You know what gentlemen,she can run away from herself so often and so much,just because the broken pieces of her cut her feet too deeply if she stays around for too long.But then what if someone were to come along and pick up those red pieces for her? Then I'm sure, she might stop running away from herself.She could stop running.If someone show her the things and her as something worth staying with,then maybe she'll stay with herself too.But she runs and we can't just sleep away and follow her downfall.We can make her alive,again.We can't fail.We never fail."
As soon as he ended his words,she hugged him.She hugged him so tightly that the club rejoiced again with twin tears on each of their covers.
*****
Though not everything means anything but anything must mean something,even if a little.And that she learnt or understood by diving into an abyss of words where so many things means so much.Knowing them,she made her way to the peculiarity of this..simply put,this world.And she loves it.She learnt to love the world.But now she stopped.How sad actually.As she stopped venturing into other world,into other's lives,she remember and got hit by the reality that how ugly she is.How the heart she thought was gentle,now under the scrutiny of glasses,was actually no more than a puddle of muddy blood.Her mind as serene she thought,was still wired wrong at the weak spots and full of cacophony of various voices of dead people.Along with these amazingly, the extra fat on her waist really really got on her nerve and so did the fly-away hair strands made her frown.The bed looks ugly too and the fridge seemed a haunted site as they contained few bread loaves and cheese and veggies for salad.No sweets,agony.The books,piles of classics and modern stories murmur in a corner,like a group of sophisticated old wise men and abstract,surrealist writers clubbing over if they should glow during the fuzzy evening when the girl would lazily be lying on her bed contemplating the history or they should just fall into a deep slumber,cutting off all the ties of recovery.
She woke up from her sleep next day with the first bleak solitary ray of sun and made herself tea.Green.Jasmine flavored.She added no sugar,not under the influence of unwanted fat and thus the concern of calories but she felt the need to taste the strained water and realize,how a warm soft,beautiful looking matter in her mother's bone china can be bitter,like the reality,but at the same time is healthy as her therapist said.The day gently became alive with the 6 A.M alarm getting switched off far away,the whistle of the pressure cooker at her neighbor's,the sun sparsely spreading,revealing half of her reading table.She started walking,softly at first and then tripping over at the same place every time where carpet was folded on edge.She promised never to fall,but she did.Every unfortunate time.Bruising her toes and mind,she sat lazily on the couch,single sitter although,she coiled herself like a sleepy cat and fell into her usual daydream with her favorite people in it until the person came.The person now dead and was last seen in a mental health hospital,controlled her.The person with the gentle tap on her slimy back,took her to the smallest rooms of the Playhouse and stripped her down and left her cold and sleepless for nights to come.She tried and was consoled but she couldn't forget the roughness of the touch she endured.Suddenly,she jerked up and sat back composed,staring thoughtlessly at her feet.She moved into her cave, (not a real one,very sorry) closing the way out and hurriedly snuggled into the heavy mink blanket.She didn't sleep.She kept her eyes stuck to the window from where the wide orange rays breaking fast the false glass barrier and collapsing on her chalky walls.She,non-interestingly,started a thread of questions but got stuck on one-"Where is my story moving to?".
She flashed a smile as questioning this would mean nothing.She remembered asking the same joint on one of her vacations while strolling somewhere in the forgotten woods and the fresh fragrant pines whispered her the answer.The reply was profound and deeply touched her but moving along with the caricatures of life,she forgot it,the essence for what she was really alive and how much that meant to her.She turned her head to the right and looked at those piles of talkative books and closed her eyes.She looked outside and she knew what would be left for her are just dreams and so she looked inside,saw her reflection on the clear imaginary lake and as she knew, was kind of left awakened.She saw face blemished with thoughts.Thoughts of love and care lying over her lashes,thoughts of gentleness and rudeness on her lips,fallen leaves hanging by her ears.But what mattered the most was the yearn,a plead dropping dewly on her chin.She couldn't resist that plead and had to move it away,far away.She walked back and saw herself again,this time,cozily under the gulf of the blanket and finally noticed the murmur of the wise men talking about the truth,running no agenda.
She tip-toed to the group of wise men,so they would not stopped their discussion.They were talking about her.She heard Mr.Joybell saying...
"You know what gentlemen,she can run away from herself so often and so much,just because the broken pieces of her cut her feet too deeply if she stays around for too long.But then what if someone were to come along and pick up those red pieces for her? Then I'm sure, she might stop running away from herself.She could stop running.If someone show her the things and her as something worth staying with,then maybe she'll stay with herself too.But she runs and we can't just sleep away and follow her downfall.We can make her alive,again.We can't fail.We never fail."
As soon as he ended his words,she hugged him.She hugged him so tightly that the club rejoiced again with twin tears on each of their covers.
*****
