Sometimes

Sometimes,
It is better to walk away.
To walk away, and
to not turn back

To cherish the memories

For the way they were, and

for not what they are, or

what they could be

To believe in the good

For it accompanies the bad, and

the change might be

beyond disappointing

To free your soul

For broken shackles

no longer enchain you, and

you can breathe again

To see the light

For the horizon is vast, and

blinding dark lurks behind dawn

after every sunset

Sometimes,

It is better to turn your back

on what was loved

for a greater love awaits.

Momma

Jumping onto her lap, snuggling and cuddling her, kissing her cheek while passing each other in the hallway, laughing at ludicrous jokes or just hugging her. I'd grown so used to these maternal gestures of intimacy as if her touch was the addiction of my skin. After all, I was a prodigy of not only her bio-genetic make up, but also a seed of her heart, a fragment of her soul. My roots generated from her soil but the rest of the plant was an autonomous structure.

While sipping tea from her cup, her eyes were like a cat; vigilant, aware yet calm and collected. She pauses and coughs. I could feel a twinge as my muscles got tense. No, it wasn't the agony of her pain that bothered me. I was irritated by the sight of her discomfort.
She's like a book, I thought to myself, that has traveled around the world for many years from destination to destination. The pages had become battered with time. Some words misprinted, some deliberately scratched out, a few overwritten. Original words majorly misinterpreted.
Her worried eyes fall upon me, full of lingering questions; fundamentally rhetoric. She is tired yet preoccupied with concern. She's sick and would have given up the battle long ago, but no. To this day, she maintains the stance of a queen. She was once a lioness; who has now sought refuge in a cave, far from the caravan. She observes, as others display. Apparently deceptive as it may be, this is not what is to be called defeat. There's a better strategy of action in store. She is preparing a weapon. Years of meticulous efforts are soon to be paid off.

All she does is sit in her cave, paws crossed and eyes wide open.

Does Love really exist?

Love.
One of the most unexplainable and undefinable terms ever to be known in the history of mankind. Some people are obsessive and optimistic with the whole concept of being in love. As someone said, it happens to be that

"I am in love, with the idea of being in love."

Whereas, on the other hand, others bitterly criticize love, altogether. It's rarely seen, that someone has a neutral experience or comment regarding this phenomenal issue. In short, 'love' is a highly misunderstood and misused (even abused!) term and the concept behind it is even more complex.

Love, itself, doesn't seem to be an entity. It's not like other abstract emotions like anger or sorrow. It's a vague cloud that blurs your vision. When you don't understand the emotional tsunami that you undergo, you claim to be in love.

For me, love does not independently exist. It is an emotional black hole. There are certain emotional necessities which a single person can not attain, without the help of an intimate relationship. The level of intimacy required, the understanding, emotions required and needs to be fulfilled vary from person to person. The amalgamation of these various aspects create a mush of something that cannot be clearly identified. So, we call it, love.

Heart to Heart; From a daughter to her father.

Being in a slightly melancholic state, I feel a strong bond between my soul and the eternal existence of my father.
A line that seems to be circulating in my conscious is:

I want to be envied, not pitied

I shall not let any hurdle be a source of degradation. Mortality is a bitter truth, I've digested that many years ago. Now, I only explore the strength that can aid me to take over the odds against me.

I agree, that there is this emptiness that I have buried inside myself for the past nineteen years. But it doesn't mean that I feel discontented or incomplete in any way. Not at all. I share something even more beautiful than many people, whose fathers are alive. I am proud of it. That is what completes me.

Death is only the absence of a physical existence. Death does not have the power to seize the emotions that dwell within a soul. My father might not physically be there to do the things that dads do for their kids. But he's always there, somewhere out in the beauty of nature amalgamated with the supernatural.

People hold their father's hand and say, "This is my dad." I stand before the world, hold my mother's hand and pretty much feel the same.

His love envelopes me. It doesn't leave me for a spare millisecond. It gives me strength, power, encouragement and security that a father would give to his daughter.

I do not shed a tear, but it doesn't mean that I do not miss him. Yes, I miss him. But why should I cry and be weak? It would only hurt him! If he was alive, would he want me to behave in such a manner? No. Hence, I shall not do so either. I will try my best to be obedient towards his dreams and expectations related to me.

The only thing that makes me sad, is what I see around me. People are so ungrateful and take their parents' lives for granted. It is true, when people say, "Ask someone who doesn't have parents/a parent." Something is better than nothing, in this case, they are everything! The bitter fact is that, once they'll be gone, you won't get to say what you want to say. No sorries, no "love you", no hugs, no snuggles, no treats and all the other special things. Do that, before it's too late! I do that, even if my dad isn't here.

I literally shower my mom with love everyday! She deserves it and even more. We're the oddest mother and daughter. Crazy at heart, but very sober in conduct. It's amazing, what I share with her. It helps us connect with each other and my father even more.

No matter what, I am daddy's little angel. I always will be that innocent infant that he once held in his arms. That is irreplaceable and eternal.

An effort to understand

Love; one of the most amazing yet unexplainable feelings that any living creature can experience. It's the kind of feeling that can make you, or break you. When it makes you, you couldn't imagine of feeling any better. But when it breaks you, you couldn't feel more shattered.
Love envelopes you and dawns new horizons upon you. You see things in ways you never did before.  But sometimes, love does something beyond changing your external paradigm. It helps you explore yourself. You question yourself of who you are, where you stand and what you want. Your needs, aims, requirements, cravings, ambitions and emotions reflect in the mirror of love.
The one who you fall in love with, is actually, a reflection of your own self. You see your happiness in them. They seem to contain all the ingredients to the life you'd want till death.

Innovation

Love is supposed to be full of surprises... But what if you run out of ideas...??
Creativity and spontaneity spark up our lives!

Fear

Love.
Or moreover, A Crush.
Infatuation. Obsession. Undeniable attraction.
These things amalgamate to create the most annoying yet amazing sensations that are known to human race.
They drive people from sane to insane. At the same time, these kind of experiences give us a lot of chances in life to drive ourselves back on the path of sanity.
The problem, mainly, in these situations, is to keep your mind focused on anything without relating it to the object that has occupied your mind.
You seem to feel insecure and possessive about the things you love. You suddenly become the protector, as if you own it.
The person or object seems to revolve in your mind. You associate a lot of things with your love.
It's insanity that is simply irrevocable.
That's a part of life, we all face it, and always will.