The Perfect Wedding

Image

 

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”!

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

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

Back to School

Image

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.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

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

Talking To You

Image

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.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

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

Who Am I?

I am proud

Of stupid things under the sun

Of how my nails look or how many shoes I have or just the fact that I have grown up

Yes, of course I have my lows when I don’t know if I’m worth anything

But, I am proud

I am emo

No, I don’t have black nails or hair that cover up three quarters of my face

But little things move me

Stupid, little things

Doesn’t mean anyone can fool me by putting up an act

But, I am emo

I am pretty

There are days when I look at myself and smile at what I see

Doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days

There are so many things I wish I could change about me

But, I am pretty

I am strong

Nope, not physically

But I have the strength to face whatever shit life offers

Of course I have my share of helpless days when I pray the world ends right there

But, I am strong

I am confident

I can face a crowd with a smile on my face, look them dead in the eye and say what I have to say

Stages draw me towards them

I feel vibrant under those yellow lights facing numerous strangers

Still, I am absolutely jittery right before I step onto a stage

I freak out

But, I am confident

I am lonely

There are times when I am surrounded by people but don’t even know if any one of them knows me

I don’t think anyone can ever know me, or anyone, for that matter

But I do have a lot of friends

And I have so many people who love me and I love them

But, I am lonely

I am alive

The music that is playing in the background right at this moment

The breeze that is trying so hard to dry my wet hair

The baby crying across the street

All these things make me feel alive

Of course I have those moments when everything seems surreal

When I don’t know if I exist

But, I am alive

I am all these things

And a little more

But I’m still not absolutely sure

Who am I?

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

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

The Urge To Wander

I love my Mom. She’s beautiful and funny and understanding and amazing. She knows so much about so many things. She travels a lot, you know. A lot. She buys me stuff from all those places that she visits. All those far-off mysterious lands. But she has a lot of friends that she travels with. And I live with my Grandmom when she is gone. But even when she’s here we live with Grandma.

I wished my Mom would live with me. I wish she would be here when I get back from school everyday. I wish we could just walk to the market on Saturdays like so many of my friends. But she is different. She doesn’t like living at one place, she tells me. She loves moving around. “The urge to wander is too big than the urge to live a life”, she says. I don’t get that. All my friends have their mothers living with them. They don’t give a shit about the “urge to wander”, whatever that means.

She’s been back for the past 10 days now. I love it! I love hugging her and sleeping. I love the smell of her hair. I just love my Mom. Especially when she’s around. Me and her are about to take a walk now. I love walking with her on the bridge. It feels like I have her all to myself. I love that.

Today we are talking about the time she was my age. 10 is the perfect age to be, she tells me. I am happy. She has these long, dark hair that I wish I had. I love looking at her talk to me. The weather is nice today. I like foggy days. They just have this mystery to them. Makes me feel like a detective. The curtains of fog are the secret I have to unveil.

“What are you smiling about”, my Mom says. Oops, I forgot she was here.

“I think I have to leave today, sweetheart”, she says.

“When will you be back?”, I’m shocked.

“In another couple of months.”

“You always say that and you’re gone for almost a year all the time. I don’t want you to go away”, I scream.

“Do not scream at your mother!”

“You are the one who’s always leaving and I’m the one who’s stuck living here with Grandma. Take me with you.”

“Sweety, you can’t come to the places I visit. You’re too young.”

“But I don’t want to be too young. I wanna come with you. I wanna be with you all the time”, I cry.

“Let’s just sit on the parapet like we always do and we’ll decide later if you can come.”

I know she’s lying. She always lies. About taking me with her the next time. About coming back in the next couple of months. About not knowing who my father is. She is always lying.

I climb on the parapet with her. And we sit side by side swinging our legs like all the other times that she has left. She is pretending as if nothing has happened. I’m sick of her going away. I don’t want her to go away. I want her to myself. She’s my Mother. I deserve that she’s around all the time. I look at her. She’s beautiful and I love her. More than I can ever tell her. But I want her for myself.

She’s saying something. I smile. Her eyes are beautiful. So is her smile. Her dimple. Her teeth are perfect. I wish I could just keep her with me forever. And then I know. I look at her swinging her legs and I give her a shove. She screams. I think she’s trying to hold on to me. She fails. I see her falling towards the curtain of fog. She is staring at me and screaming.

“Don’t worry Mom. I’m going to be with you. Always”, I smile to myself.

My Mom is not going anywhere. I’m happy. I really love her, you know.

—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X—X

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

Previous Older Entries