darkness – My Spirals

Existential crisis

A big thank you to Heena for nominating me for the Blogger Recognition Award. Go check her blog out. I nominate Benefits with brain because of her lovely work. Click here for the rules : rules. Also, comment below if you’ve ever gone through an existential crisis. Enjoy!

Existential crisis.
One winter night,
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon,
On a terrace made of stone and expectations,
I lay under the stars,
As they looked down on me.
I gazed and felt
The cold wind’s hand on my speedbag face,
The curves of darkness and its nakedness,
The bare existence of my soul
that lay hidden inside the crumpled bed-sheets of this beautiful night.
I wondered and worried,
About things bigger than my eye-lashes and 11:11 wishes,
About things more important than betrayal and revenge,
About my mere existence.
Am I Chekhov’s gun?
(If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall,
then in the following one it should be fired.
If I exist,
I matter.)
Or am I a gun people keep hidden in drawers,
To mark their authority and ensure their security?
Are guns needed at all?
Am I even a gun?
What am I?
I looked for answers
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon.

Instagram handle: @myspirals
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The one with women.

The number in the first two statistics are true and have been taken from here and here. This is here to spread awareness, and not to degrade or leave out men. Smile everyone! Also, leave a comment telling about what problems any one of you have faced.

One in every six women has been sexually assaulted,
and accused of “asking for it”,
or facing it because men,
(being the beasts that they can sometimes be),
cannot control their desires and should not be blamed for it.

One in every four women has been denied opportunities,
of climbing the gold-coated staircase.
The staircase of power and creative possibilities,
has been reserved for men,
(and at times women who agree to sleep with them).

One in every two women has a horror story,
to tell that will send shivers up your very existence,
for the story monsters are human beings
with pride horns and intentions like a sharp crooked teeth,
and darkness that doesn’t go away with a switch.

One in every one woman has given her all,
so that mankind can be kind,
and the world can be truly called a beautiful place.

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Instagram handle: @myspirals

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Whiskey Words: Project (3)

This is Submission THREE of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.

Dark Chocolate

Bittersweet. Addictive. The smell makes you want more of it, but people can die from its over-dose. Melts in your mouth and becomes a part of you. Inseparable. Dark things can be beautiful. The hint of bitterness, the darkness is what makes it so special. So different from the others. Peacefully chaotic. Elegantly dark. Devastating.

The madness in her eyes was clearly visible, but only to the people who dared to see. The rebel. The fire. The catastrophe. You could clearly feel the storm coming but only if you were courageous enough to get into it. The way the sound of her speech touched your heart was exactly how the lightning strikes the earth. Her touch made you feel as if someone just pinched your soul. How can something be so irresistible? When she looked at you, even though you did not know that she was looking, there was something enigmatic that followed you. You felt her winsome gaze on yourself. Her dark-brown hair felt like clouds of chocolate. I knew I was devastated when I touched her lips but this tragedy was so alluring, I could never afford to end it. She was where my demons hid, but who knew that these demons would destroy me? Who knew that my sweet little baby could be so bitter? Who knew that the catastrophe that I adored, and will always adore could literally slaughter me so charmingly?

•Change in perspective•

My baby. Honey. Looking at him feels like someone is calming down my demons. I start to realize what peace is. He makes me believe in the impossible. I had always overlooked this slot in my life, the slot where lay the belief that I can be loved. I had so much love to give, so much, but who could bear it? Him. He loves me. All of me. And I love him. More than anything and everything. I feel like I finally found what was lost. My soul feeds on his. That pleasure. That satisfaction.

His smell reminds me of old red wine. His touch, each and every touch, feels heavenly. When his lips touches mine, my lips finally feels like it has got what it had been looking for. When I look him in the eyes, I see his soul. I literally look inside him and that intensity cannot be matched. He is my breath. My heartbeat. The blood running through my veins.

He is the sadness in my eyes. The air to my fire. Making me cross all limits. Helping grow out of all boundaries. Encouraging me to go wherever I want to go. Awakening my catastrophe. I love him so much. He fills my emptiness. Completes me. Satisfies my soul. But he is completely mine. ONLY mine. And only I can complete him. Only I can love him so much. ONLY ME.

He used to love my obsessiveness earlier. He admired my storms. He played with my demons. Our darkness matched with each other. I was the sweetest little girl according to him. His little baby. Then why did he have to do this?

Why did you force your cute little baby to do this to you? Where did your love for my madness go, honey?

I don’t lack anything, do I? Is my love not enough for you? I never forced you to do anything, I always do what makes you happy, then why can’t you also take care of my love? Nothing can come between us, baby. Nothing can take you away from me. Nothing can separate us. Not this world, or our friends or enemies, or our families, or us. I cannot live without you. Then why are you forcing me to? I cannot let anything come between us or our happiness. You are my eternity. Then why did you speak of separation? Can’t you see the passion I have for you in my eyes? I cannot let you break us, sweetheart. I cannot see you with somebody else. You are meant for me. For my madness, my chaos, my insanity. I cannot share you, but your happiness is equally important to me. I want to see you happy. Your smile is my soul food. Your happiness lies in freedom from me? You want separation from me? You will get it. Breaking us makes you happy? Let’s break us then. But only I can break us. You are only mine. MINE. And so I am forced to do this. I love you, my baby. I will always love you, and so I am giving you your happiness. I am your dark chocolate, right? This dark chocolate will grant you your peace. Forever.

And so I mixed the poison in the dark chocolate cake that I had made for our anniversary. Served it to him, and peacefully watched my eternal love, rest.

Rest in peace.

– Anchal Rani (Instagram)

A necklace of hope.

Ghosts do exist.

The first time she was haunted by one was when she fell in love. When he kissed her for the first time, her hands found his hair, but her thoughts could not find a reason to believe that he would stay. She opened her eyes mid-way, and looked at him and all she saw was her fear. She felt sweat on her forehead, as she pulled away. Her eyes darted here and there as she saw flashes of the last time someone had promised to stay and hadn’t. The ghost of empty promises and broken hearts left her tongue dry. He did not seem bothered at all.
He believed in ghosts because they just wouldn’t let him be. Every time he decided to move on, and build himself a life he wanted, the ghost of the expectations of his parents tied his hand behind him, and slowly choked his will to believe. His wrist had scars of him trying to untie himself, but they were mere reminders of his shattered hopes and dreams.
She just could not forget what he had done to her. Every time she went on a new date, tried to move on, he popped up in her thoughts. She loved him. She still did. How can she move on knowing that he was what she wanted. She wanted expensive champagne, and cheap nail polish and warm blankets with him by her side. The ghost of her past haunted her on every new date, and she just could not let it go.
He did not want to hurt someone. He feared power and authority for the sole purpose of staying unable to inflict pain. He did not trust himself enough to believe that if given the chance, he wouldn’t choose himself over others. He knew that choosing oneself is how you progress, but not at the cost of someone he loved? The ghost of his darkness made him fear himself.
She had lost her friend. Every time she sat on her terrace and gazed at the city that was unaware of her loss, she saw shadows of her friend sitting beside her, a cigarette embraced in her fingers, a carefree smile reaching her eyes. One that is lost can never really be lost again. And so she held onto the ghost of her friend, a shimmering and fading image that made her believe that maybe it would all be okay.
There was no way out of this. He sat in the corner of his room, tears running down his red cheeks. Everything seemed to collapse on him, and he just could not pick himself up again. He wanted to believe, he tried to, but there was nothing to believe in. No hope bloomed in the garden inside his chest. The ghost of hopelessness held a knife to his wrist, and as the blood trickled down, he felt free.

We are all haunted in some way or another. We just have to hold on and believe in ourselves. Ghosts do exist, but just in our heads.

Hope.

“I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.” – Atticus

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A new shade.

Is it just me who’s blind,
Or did the world go blind too?
I don’t know where,
or how to look for the answer,
without my eyes.

The wind can speak,
And the leaves can gossip.
The sun can giggle,
And the clouds can cry.
How has this remained
a secret for so long?
Every breath I take
Now has a papery taste,
Dry and evident.
Every word I speak,
Now sounds like an echo,
That fills the room
With its existence.
Every giggle that I hear,
Tickles my ear,
And makes me feel the joy
That it is made of.
How have I never been
So alive before?
I’ve tripped on the stairs,
That I had jumped over
A thousand times before,
Did it move?
The walls feel a bit too close,
And colors a bit too far.
Darkness has a strange color.
It reminds me of the night,
But also the day.
But mostly, it reminds me of the sky
Infinite.
Darkness is a void,
The other senses can only try to fill.
How is it that we’ve never
seen this shade before?

Is it just me who’s blind,
Or did the world go blind too?
I don’t know where,
or how to look for the answer,
without my eyes.

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Related post : Half.