That constant feeling you're being watched. Or maybe you're just lonely.

So it arrived this morning.

I woke up with a start, trying not to think about how many times I’d snoozed the alarm, wishing I could shove my foot up my ass for being such a lazy fuck.

And then I saw it.

I wasn’t scared. I didn’t panic. For some strange reason, I was almost expecting it to be there.  It looked at me in the eye, sitting calm and still in the corner of the room, not moving, not saying a word. It just stared.

It followed me out of my room, and I wondered whether it would follow me into the bathroom. I wouldn’t have liked that at all. I’d spent a good five minutes in bed trying to get used to it, but I still wasn’t comfortable with it watching me undress and bathe. However, it was polite enough to wait outside while I bathed.

It didn’t do anything while I got dressed for work. It didn’t do anything as I found the bread that was supposed to be my breakfast covered in mould. It didn’t do anything as I double checked my pockets for my phone and keys and locked my room.

Its weight as it rode behind me on my bike seemed to be making my journey longer than the ten minutes it usually takes me to get to work. Turning and manoeuvring around the traffic felt like an hour’s workout. Almost lost my balance a couple of times. When I finally reached, I glanced at my watch. I wasn’t late. It really did take me just ten minutes.

It sat next to me at my desk, still staring, as I worked through the day, giving me company during the lunch break too. It never left my side.

As I got used to its constant presence being around me, I found myself starting to get used to it. Found myself being glad it was around. Glad for the company it gave, I guess. Maybe it felt the same way too. I certainly didn’t see why it wouldn’t like to be around me all the time. I like to think I’m that nice a guy.

I brought it back home with me, along with a chicken shawarma I planned to have for my dinner. (The shawarma was good. A little dry, and would’ve tasted better if the Persian guy down the road that made it had used pita bread instead of a roti, but all in all a good shawarma.) It didn’t complain or ask for a shawarma for itself. It just watched me eat. It didn’t seem too hungry anyway.

I got into bed and tucked myself in. I turned around to say goodnight to it, but I couldn’t see it. It was gone.

I figured it just needed to be around someone for the day to make itself feel better about, well, itself.

I rolled back into a comfortable sleeping position, one that was just close enough to the wall touching my bed so that I wouldn’t fall off (as I used to frequently when I was a kid, therefore leaving me with a life-long fear of “falling off the edge”, something that still torments me with sleepless nights through nightmares) but far enough give me room to stretch and roll and kick in my sleep in the night (as a friend of mine very rudely found out last Saturday when I kicked him in the face several times in the night), said quietly, “Goodnight, you piece of shit,” and dozed off almost immediately after.

Music

Random shit I wrote for a placement exam.

Growing up in a family of musicians, music has always been something I’ve been passionate about even as a kid.

From my grandmother singing me to sleep, to my dad’s country and classic rock music blaring every weekend on the music system, it has all shaped the interest in music I have right now, influencing my tastes and preferences in music.

My day has to start and end with music, with my earphones on from the moment I wake up to the time I get in to bed. Living without music is not only unthinkable for me, but even the thought of it is suffocating.

What I find in music, is not just a bunch of notes and beats strung together with someone singing random words into a microphone. For me, music reflects a musician’s and lyricist’s soul that can be mirrored by people who feel the same way around the world, no matter who or where you are, and no matter what kind of music you listen to.

I personally have no prerogatives against any form of music; music is music. It may be Bollywood, filmy stuff or classical Beethoven, or The Sex Pistols or Jimi Hendrix or Zakher Hussain. It’s all music. I may not listen to each genre as much as the rest, I’ve got my own preferences too. But it all forms a part of this musical world where everyone can have a say about anything they feel like, be it love, heartbreak, rebellion, war, peace or even plain human laziness.

Learning to play the guitar since the age of 7, I’ve been exposed to both contemporary as well as older styles of music that has only made my obsession with it grow with every guitar solo, or lyric or drum roll I hear.

What I love most about music is the lyrical aspect of the whole thing. Lyrics are what the music revolves around, and I’ve always found the fact that one can write such brilliant, meaningful lyrics while maintaining rhyme and rhythm extremely mystifying and fascinating.

Of course, I’ve tried my hand at being a musician too; playing acoustic sets at a coffee shop near my place and having even strangers around me clapping and singing along was one the best feelings I’ve ever had in my entire life. Maybe I didn’t give it my best though, for then I’m sure I’d be a full-time musician by now, but I guess I just didn’t trust myself enough.

Then again, if life ever found it fair to give me a second chance, I’d be picking up my guitar and lyrics book without any hesitation and running out that door, into a life that would make me happier than anything else in this world.

Wholeheartedly Heartbroken?

Its times like these, you give and give again.

Why did it end? Why did I even let myself get into it? Who’s to blame? Am I that unlikeable? Was it someone else? What’s wrong with me? I’m going to end up alone.

Sound familiar? Don’t worry I’m not reading into your minds or your personal diaries. These are the EXACT same thoughts that run across EVERYONE’s heads when they’ve just broken up with someone. And yes, everyone has also been crying into their pillows, been sitting alone staring into space, sometimes with thoughts of picking up that 5” inch blade on their desk that’s sharp enough to cut through more than just paper.

I know, it sucks when you think that you’ve given your absolute everything to someone you’ve spent the most amazing few months, maybe even years with. You’ve shared your every tear drop, every smile, every little fact about yourself, every thought, every word. Every last emotion with that person you thought you’d spend the rest the rest of your life with. All because you thought you two would end up sitting on a beach somewhere, all old and wrinkly, yet still holding hands, digging your toes into the sand, looking into each other’s eyes and still be able to kiss each other and honestly say, “I love you”.

Well that dream totally went out the window didn’t it? And now you’re sitting in your room all alone, listening to mushy songs, teary eyed and thinking about that blade.

But think for a second. Did you really give it your all? Really? Absolutely EVERYTHING?

No I’m not accusing any of you of being a bad partner. I know you made sure your “better-half-at-the-time” happy enough. But deep down, you knew that there was always something missing. Something just wasn’t right. Something telling you, “Hey, are you SURE you wanna do that just yet?” You didn’t know what it was, and it was so tiny you even chose to ignore it.

Truth is, when you’re in a wrong relationship you consciously don’t know it. No one does. No one seems to looks past the perfect lives they picture themselves living with that person. And when it ends, you can’t seem to let go of that image you pictured.

But now, think about your break up this way: what if you DIDN’T really give it your all? What if somewhere, deep down inside you, you didn’t really let the other in ‘cause you knew it was not going to end the way you wanted it to? Maybe while you were taking down walls and letting that person in, you were also relocating some personal emotion, feeling or thought process that you knew they’d never understand? A tiny bit of your heart that you want just for yourself.

I say, that love is when you meet someone whom you trust completely and you let in, and who helps you discover where exactly you’ve been hiding that one bit of your heart. Giving your heart away completely to someone doesn’t involve a “reclaim policy”. You know that you’re truly in love with your partner when you’re ready to give it all to them. The whole deal.

Heartbreak really is warfare, in the words of John Mayer. Whether you’re waging it with your ex or yourself, we all do it. The secret to completely letting someone go isn’t something I can tell you. You need to experience it yourself to understand it. And when you do, it’s the most liberating experience in the world. Most liberating, that is, until the day you actually do fall in love.

We're Still Alive, Dude.

We’ve made it thus far haven’t we?

We don’t need anybody else to give us a helping hand.

We’ve taken our blows and taken our hits,

But again and again, straight up we stand.

Receiving and giving, help we’ve shared.

It’s been so long since we’ve heard their voices now.

We call out and they never answer anymore,

The silence we hear, it’s funny just how.

They used to call to us, and we heeded.

They took us for granted, and we patiently listened.

Made us smile, and made us die,

With every tear we wiped, when their eyes glistened.

“No more sorrows,” we were promised,

“No more will we cry in vain,” we swore.

But it’s all gone now, only a deathly calm remains,

And it’s taken us far from the safety of the shore.

Needed each other then, yes we all did.

We needed that escape from the perverseness of the world.

We were each other’s escape.

We comforted in one another as our truths unfurled.

Shame, we have none.

Regrets, nothing that we would change.

We did what we needed to, at every point in our lives,

And that’s made are lives this strange.

What we are now, is what we’ve always wanted to be.

What we are now, is what we’ve chosen.

Who cares what the world thinks, we’ve done it our way,

Memories, both good and bad, are best kept frozen.

So pick yourself up, don’t stoop so low.

Don’t look at the bottom of the glass, look through it.

Don’t look for the sun again, when you know it’s going to rain,

Just take comfort in what you have, and sit right through it.

We’re not the same anymore.

We’ve come so far away from where we were at the start.

But we’re here right now, don’t let us down.

Believe in us now, for we will never part.

,,|,

Don’t take this away from me.

I deserve it. I know I do.

So do you.

So just stop pretending to be the saint here. And leave me the fuck alone.

You’re the one who killed it. You’re the one who strangled every last ounce of patience out.

I can’t fight these daily battles with myself anymore. I’ve bled enough to feed a thousand vultures. Yes. The same scavenging fucks that circled overhead as we tore each other apart, waiting to strike; waiting for that moment of weakness that YOU gave them.

You dragged us down, scraped our hearts all over the thorns that covered the ground. Cut deep within us wounds that will take a million eons to heal.

And still I remained by your side. Never complaining. Never wavering. Never letting go, even when it was just me holding on to a fraction of your fingertips, just so that we’d never have to fall.

But we did. And guess who let go?

You took me through to the highest high I’ve ever felt. And then threw me over the edge.

Screw you and your fucking principles. I don’t need them.

I'm not the bad guy. I'm just the grown up, who saw just how fucking immature you really are. and I pity myself for letting a kid like you take away so much from me.

P.S. Your friends suck.