The Perfect Wedding

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The day dawned bright and shiny. It was fall and the weather could not have been more appropriate for getting married. Jacob was so happy. His darling little girl was getting married today. Everything was perfect. The chapel was adorned with beautiful fuchsias and lilacs. The tables were laid with ornate table cloths. The sound of the three cellos soothed everything into a peaceful stability. The smell of freshly baked food wafted through the hall. It was going to be the prefect wedding.

He wished his wife was here. It had been 12 years since that fateful morning when he found her dead in their bathroom from an overdose of sleeping pills. The time had not dulled the pain though. If anything, it had just managed to expand the void left by her death. But today, he vowed, he won’t let that mar his spirits. His darling little daughter was getting married after all. Everything was going perfectly as planned. He had found a nice little gentleman for her. Jacob was sure that he would provide for his daughter very well. She will be content.

He had tried to make his daughter’s life as easy as possible. Growing without a mother was one of the most difficult things, he had realized. But he had given his best shot. His daughter had turned into this beautiful, independent, young woman from the rebellious teenager that she was. Okay, to be honest, she had still retained her rebellious streak. But time would change that. Getting married would change that.”She is just 23 after all”, he thought to himself, “She will realize the wisdom of the decisions he had made for her. She had to see it some day.”

He remembered the argument they had had last night.

“He treats me like a kid, Dad! I dunno if I wanna marry him. Give me some time. Let me get to know him”, she cried.

He walked to her, gave a peck on her tear-wet cheek and just smiled. “It’s all gonna be okay, sweety. Trust me!”, he told her.

That memory left a fleeting ghost of a smile on his face as he walked towards the bridal dressing room. It was time. As he walked into the room, he found her taking a nap on the bed, all veil-clad and stammeringly beautiful the way only brides can be. ‘My poor baby’, he thought, ‘She must be so tired’. But as he walked towards her, all color drained from his face. She was holding a vial of pills in her left hand and in her dying, bridal beauty all she reminded him was of his long-lost wife and her fatal end.

The Sign

ImageAs she drove down the highway, there was a chaos of thoughts running through her head. She was tired. Tired of sticking to the convention, tired of living the “ideal way”, tired of giving up what she loved just because it was different. Living in a society driven by conventional boxes, she was always taught what to do. But she wanted to break free.

She wanted to be in a circus. She had had dreams of being a flying trapeze for ages now. She had worked hard on her body, her strength right since she had first seen the circus when she was 5. She still remembered her wild-eyed wonder as she sat there with her father. The same father who was completely against her decision to be in a circus.

But right at this moment, she did not care. She was 21, fit, ready to explore life with wild dreams in her eyes and almost no money in her pockets. She was excited and anxious and eager and scared and she was ready.

As she sat in that car with Kelly blaring on the radio with I Believe I Can Fly, she looked at the sky with its beautiful hues of orange and pink and blue and she thought to herself “This is a Sign”!

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This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

Conversations with an Actor

Interviewer: There’s something that I’ve always wondered. How can anyone act something out if he hasn’t e

xperienced it before. I mean, how can you cry and be sad at the death of your child when you haven’t even experienced his birth?
Actor: That’s very simple and yet very difficult. Let me ask you something back. How do you know that a real-life father is sad when his kid is dead. How do you know that he’s not the one who’s acting?
Interviewer: Umm.. Well..
Actor: The only thing that makes you think that the father is sad and devastated at the death of his kid is because he himself believes in it. That’s why when you look into his eyes even you believe in it. Nothing we ever feel in our life is absolute. Everything is an inherent belief in our feelings and emotions. Everything is an illusion. And a good actor is nothing but an illusionist who just happens to believe in what he’s supposed to feel.
All the world’s a stage and all the men and women just merely players……

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Back to School

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As I walk today through this empty corridor of what once used to be my school, I am shocked. Shocked at the change. I mean, everything look the same. The lockers, the corridor, the ever-so-depressing lights, the paraphernalia of childhood. It looks exactly the same. But everything seems so changed.

I am changed. I am no longer the gangly kid with braces and plastic frame glasses. I am no longer the last person to be chosen on any game team. I am no longer the heartbroken kid who doesn’t have the guts to go and tell that boy that I like him. I am no longer the kid who comes up with stories to impress her friends about how cool her father is. Yes, I have changed.

I am grown-up and successful and decent looking. I can draw people’s attention for all he right things if I want to. I can go ahead and buy that pretty dress I loved without thinking twice. I can make good-looking men buy me drinks at a bar whenever I want to. And all this is all that the gangly kid ever wanted.

So why does walking through this corridor make me ache today? Because the world is not the same. Because I am not the same. Because I have realized that the world, as I saw through those plastic frame glasses, is a myth. The “Ideal Life” doesn’t exist. I have lost my innocence. I have lost the ability to give without expecting anything in return. I have lost my childhood. And today, I would give away anything to be back to what I was. To go back to school.

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This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

Talking To You

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Talking to you was easy,

Once upon a time.

I could see you

I could feel your presence

I could reach out to you

Today, we are so far apart

All I can do is tap on this keyboard

And hope that you read what I want to say

Not the words, no.

The thought, the feel, the emotion

The knot in my throat

The smile on my face

The goosebumps on my arm

The water in my wet hair

I know you do not feel that

Because tapping here on this keyboard

Is not the same as

Talking to you.

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This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

The Broken Bride

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She was happy just thinking about what she wanted. She wanted a spectacular wedding. A groom who would dote on her. A mother who would cry as she walked down the aisle. A father who would look at her with utmost affection as he walked her down the aisle. The melody of the harp soothing her nerves. And the red roses all around.

She was happy thinking about what she wanted. But she knew she could never have what she wanted. They had made sure of that. The military, the soldiers, the bombings. They had taken away all that she had. Her perfect groom, her loving parents, her best friends and everyone else who even looked familiar. All that was left was the wait. The wait for the next bombing, the next night when the hungry soldiers would come to hunt, the next time she would actually have food to eat.

But she dreamt and thought and wondered. And she was happy when she did that. She knew that her days were numbered. Until the day it all ended. The pain that was beyond tolerance, the hunger that never ceased, the darkness that never lost.

And she saw a flash. Something close to a million cameras being flashed at her. And she saw them all. The groom, the parents, the friends. And she was happy. The broken bride was happy.

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This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

Life

I live

Breath by breath

Hour by hour

Trying to know why I am here

Trying to figure out life’s different shades

Trying to figure out the different pieces

I live

Person by person

Relation  by relation

Trying to find what everyone means to me

Trying to feel what everyone needs from me

I live

Job by job

Duty by duty

Trying to know what’s needed of me

I live

Moment by moment

Day by day

Trying to make sense of my being

Trying to bring out the colours of my life

Trying to bring together the colours of my life

I feel it’s all in my hands

The colours, the illusions, the mirage

The shimmering glass called life

I believe I have it figured

And just when I am happy

It turns its back on me

And shatters into a million sparkling pieces

The mosaic called Life

Because I liveMagic

This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

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