||| The Journey of a Memory



Stage 1- The onslaught
It’s like chains holding you down; you’re crying and screaming and the chains are clanking in their rusted glory. The smoke is rising up from the corners of the room.
Before you know it-you’re drowning. Left gasping for air. You try to hold on to the rims, but it the pit goes on way too deep. Days like these are particularly hard.
Stage 2- The hit
You’re lost, mentally. Walking down those lanes you still visit every now and then, hoping to change stuff up. It’s always amusing to imagine how you’d do things differently if you had another chance. You remember everything so well- the missed opportunities, the lies, and the heartbreaks. But all of these are overpowered by the scent of happiness and contentment that fills you up.
The ties, emotional and physical, to the people and places you left behind were cut so abruptly. You’re still reeling.
For most part you walk around blankly, keeping so busy so you don’t have a moment. Surround yourself with so much noise you can’t hear the sound of the world crashing around you.
Stage 3- The analysis
Nothing is the same. you’re yet to realize that.
Just keep moving forward. moving forward. moving forward. Do you dare look back?
The past is not where you belong.
You’ve got so much to do, new memories to make, new people to meet.
Stage 4- The Predestination
But, What do you do when you don’t want to let go? The memory is all you’re left with.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, you know you aren’t supposed to dwell in the past, but you’re willing to take the risk and bear the hurt.
The past is dangerous. It stops you from growing. You wonder how all the people have moved on, while you’re still stuck.
How much time, till the memory brings a smile on your lips? How much time till it doesn’t reduce you to tears?
Stage 6- Until next time
The smoke is settling and you can see clearer now. The reality slaps you hard.
Pulling yourself out
Drenched in memories
Breathing again
It’s just these fucking chains that refuse to break.

– LittleGiesha



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 Loved and Lost

||    The Diary of a Logophile


Day 1- Monday

Img source: Tumblr

She rolls over her pristine white sheets, banging her phone on the side table so it stops blaring the alarm.

Finally she manages

The alarm goes off again in a minute

Well, fuck

She mutters under her breath and crumpled handfuls of sheets to pull herself up. It’s already 10 am and its sickeningly hot. And she’s so dehydrated.

She holds her head in her hands for  a few minutes, regretting all the cosmos and long islands from yesterday night. She had to get up anyway; no excuses.

A hot shower later , emails are checked. Freshly brewed coffee awaits her on the marble counter and life takes its normal pace again.

Snippets from last night can be found around the house. A pair of hastily removed velvet heels by the couch; a crumpled push-up on the rug and half drunk glass of water drunk in a fit of complete dehydration.

Oh well.





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