New Endings

A story not told. A wound not healed. A life not lived. Sounds sad right? Well...this is the reality for some of us. No. We are not exactly depressed. It's just a different state of being. A state where you're just existing. Neither sad nor happy. Just existing. It's like food without any spices. It fulfills its purpose but that's just it. Nothing more, nothing less. A personal void. Wondering if this is true? Or worse still, thinking about your own void? For the latter, it's okay to have a void. It's often an escape from reality. Consider it as an advantage to your already beautiful soul. For the former, have you ever noticed that exceptionally cool friend of yours, zoning out? Have you ever noticed the unusual quiet that sometimes swallows your friends circle? Have you ever taken notice of yourself, sitting alone by the window, on a windy day, thinking about nothing in particular? When you become aware of yourself, you learn about your void. Wha...

Do you believe it too? -- Do you believe her smiles are true?     Look beyond them. She's hiding a frown. One she doesn't want the world to see. -- Do you believe her laughter is real?    Look carefully. She's trying not to break. Because she wants to be strong so desperately. -- Do you believe she is cheerful?    Look behind the mask. She's is full of sorrows. But doesn't want others to be so. -- Do you believe she is funny?    Listen carefully to her voice. She's trying to distract herself from the hell that keeps dragging her. -- Do you believe she is childish?    Look at how many tough decisions she has made. She is not proud of what she has experienced. -- Do you believe she is happy?    Look beyond the facade. At the palace that's crumbling down . At the world that's falling apart. At the life that's getting sucked into oblivion. -- Do you believe she loves herself?     You can't imagine...

Black themed wallpapers to a blind heart. She had everything in darkness. Not a single soul saw the light that emanated from her. The brutal blinding light that threatened to consume those around her. She took great care to keep it all inside. To keep it all hidden. But nothing stays hidden for long. That is written. And he saw it. Saw how desperate she was to hide her true self but he couldn't understand why. He couldn't understand why she didn't see the beauty of the light. If only he knew.. The numerous lives the light had took.

The silence of the night. The deafening noise of her heartbeat. The monotonous ticking of the clock. And the heaviness of her last breath. Her emptiness consuming her whole. The darkness enveloping her soul. The tears burning her eyes, like coal. The lost fight taking a toll. A ruined sculpture that can't be mold. The pain seeming like gold. The light gone while asking for some more. Did you notice her plea? Her disappearing glee? Her urge to flee? Her want to be free? If only you did.

Words are all she has when her soul fails her. Tears are all she has when her smile leaves her. The night is her hideout. The freezing cold, her anaesthesia. Words are all she thinks about. Even if she gets amnesia. Her thoughts tear her apart. But she stitches them back. This isn't just a poem. But the true melody of a broken heart.

Do you ever have those moments where you feel like you don't belong anywhere? Like you are just existing because you don't see any other option... Like you are just living because you aren't dead... Like all your organs have failed to fill your body and it's still somewhat empty... ? It's a feeling. Neither good nor bad. It's a kind of numbness. A really loud numbness. Silence that screams in your ears. Darkness that consumes your heart. The worst part is that you can feel this happening in slow motion. Picture yourself sitting in a bathtub. The bathroom is dark except for the candle burning in the stand beside you. You are holding a glass of poisonous blood red wine. And you are drinking it. Sip by sip. Savouring its bitter sweet taste until there's no more left and the candle is out. And then you slowly feel your death approaching. Coming to visit you like a guest. And you're not protesting a single bit. Instead you open the door for this guest ...