A Poem Rumi Forgot to Complete

 And those eyes of yours,  Am I allowed to drown in them? Will you shed me in tears?  Or will you keep me lock and safe?  Will you open or close them? Or will you just chase my dreams? Will I be drown in the depth of your sadness? Will you catch me with all your happiness? Will you make me cry? Or will you sit beside me until my tears dry? Am I just chasing shadows? Or will you be with me in all highs and lows?

 And then I try to write. To vent. To rant my heart out. But, The choices, the mistakes, the love, the regrets, the passion, the desire, the demons, the respect, the reason, the logic, the emotions - everything - seem to disappear like they never existed.  From where should I start?  There's no beginning , no ending - just a vicious cycle - that keeps on repeating over and over again . My biggest regret will always be hurting people with pure intentions. I never wanted to but somehow I always did.  How to let go of that guilt?   There's no way, right? We have to live with it till the end.  The end that has faded like our old versions. And that's why we carry that guilt each day, hoping to never make the same mistake again but somehow we always make that exact choice/decision.   Shutting people off, isolating ourselves, and not talking to anybody help?  Sylvia Plath writes, " I need a father. I need a mother . I need some older, wiser b...

And suddenly nothing makes sense. It never did, we just hoped that someday we would be fine or eventually we would get what we needed/wanted. The reality was just disenchanted.  Every 90's kid was told that one day you're gonna win big, the lies that were fed to us, have eaten us alive.  We are still hoping for that fairytale romance, a dream job, peace of mind and God knows what. In this economic turmoil, I can't even take care of my expenses let alone the self-care.  They kept on telling us one day everything was gonna be alright, we would make it, you'll be this, you'll be that. God damn it, I am 28 and I am still here in 2019 - broke, single, inexperienced, living in a rental apartment, own no car and don't ask me about my mental health.  Each day feels like a losing battle against time. Everything that was told to you, to me, to us, everything was a lie. It never gets better. We are not gonna have our childhood or teenage days back. We are just living dead ...

 Have you ever seen the face of a person who has lost everything?  Perhaps, you haven't.  And I pray you may never see it. You know I tried. By God, I did my best.  But we can't make them sane, we never will.  With age, comes maturity, they say.  With responsibility, comes maturity. I don't agree with any of these notions.  No one can do it except God.  Sanity comes to whomever He wishes.  Responsibility comes to whomever He wishes.  And I am done.  I have burnt all my desires to ashes.  I have lost my soul. And I have no desire to get it back.  If you ever wish to see a person who's lost everything,  Just meet me in the middle of nowhere. 

 And then ...   There must be something missing - a void - for it is necessary.  The melancholy of man  can't  be described  by someone who has fulfilled all his desires. The grief, the emptiness, the bleakness is nothing but an artist's perspective. All those great  artists,  the world has ever  produced,  had to go through something ineffable. What if there was no pain? What if there was no grief? What if there was no sadness? Don't you think how empty the world could have been?  The darkness of life makes a man ponder over everything.  I know,  I know it is absurd, I know life has no meaning, everything is meaningless, there is no purpose of life  and  we are lost because we are trying to make sense of  everything,  when there is nothing but an infinite despair. Every decision is a decision against something else. You step into the shoes of rebellion and leave the conformist behaviour. But, then agai...

I died today. Or yesterday or maybe that day when I realized nothing made sense anymore. But I died. How  did I  die? I don't know.  But,  why  did I  die?  Sigh. The list is long , don't you think?   Maybe,  your words killed me.  Maybe,  that day, you said something that pierced into my ears, tearing my eardrums  apart,  and losing my hearing abilities.  Or maybe, that  day,  when father showed his disappointment in me, making me feel like a cockroach - naah, not a cockroach but something more disgusting, like an insect who  cannot  do anything except be a burden on others.  Or  maybe,  that  day,  when my mother scolded me for being too needy, killing all my emotions, feelings, and passions.  Oh, no  honey . I couldn't die possibly because of these things.  I was  tougher  than that.  Then what killed me? Now, when I recall, I don't remember...