Ode To My Fear Of Perfection!

I have a problem.

I have lot of problems but this one problem hurts.

It digs out the old demons which never die.

Fear never dies.

Fear of meeting perfect people with perfect eyes and perfect words in their perfect mouths living in their perfect little worlds.

Perfect little worlds with perfect locks. 

Perfect locks which uses the perfect key.

Perfect key! Don’t expect help from piracy.
When I say perfect I don’t mean clean or white or unmarked or untainted.
I mean a new balloon inflated and deflated and then re inflated but this time perfect.
I mean a empty plastic bottle squashed hard and then straightened up perfect!
I mean aluminium foil crunched and then flattened out perfect!
This perfection is earned. So this perfection costs. 

You want to get in, pay the perfect price!

The perfect first impression! 

Ah! Crunched straightened foil? No entry!

Perfect new balloon? Yes please!
Imperfections are applauded, acquired perfections are admired but none of them is desired! 
Gate is tall and lock is big.

I don’t have the key and I don’t know any trick

Great but concealed!

Nice but un approachable!

Perfect but proud! 
And I am hurt.

Because I am not an impression maker.

I never make an impression.

I make opinions.

I am full of opinions.

I think.

I think a lot.

And I am not ashamed of putting them out.

My opinions don’t hang inside the perfect walls of my perfect castle.

They hand on the low wall of my shack in slums.

Loud opinions are bad impressions and perfect castle is made up of glass!
I give up! I lost my precious chance of making a perfect impression. 

My first impression has cost me perfection of your little perfect, quiet peaceful, much admired, full of white flowers and lavender fragrant world! 
Long live you with your high glass walls. 

Long live you my dear, I longed to call a friend!


Decision Or JuSt A Coincidence!



That was all the money I had. It wasn’t much but lot for a new college student. It was for his birthday. But I had to make a choice. Either I buy him a fancy present or use them to get help forgetting him! 

You will say I made a choice, i say it was a coincidence. I wasn’t the kind of person who will make the kind of choice I made. I was vulnerable, desperate and alone. I wasn’t strong enough to look for emotional independence. On the contrary I was the one looking for emotional security in others. I knew if it was an active decision made by me I would have chosen to please him in hope of seducing him into being with me. I was desperate. But I didnt! Surprising as it is for me, I chose for the first time to give myself a chance. I chose to take help despite the fact I was told that it might turn out to be waste of time and money. That one coincidence acted as the small yet significant hit to the first disc of dominos laid out in the form of turning point in my life. Discs are still falling over another one by one, opening doors filled with new colors for me. It is still going on. It hasn’t stopped yet and it would be another coincidence if this chain of events will end up taking me where my heart will find the peace and my soul will find the answers. 

Decisions are huge. You think about them, analyze the possibilities and pick the one you think will serve you best. Coincidences just happen. Fraction of a second. In a zing. Flicker. Zap! They don’t even give you time to realize what just happened. And then one day, you see the word coincidence and think about it and it hits your mind that, that one moment which changed your life was nothing but it!

Begin Again!

Do i need to stop looking because those who aren’t appear to be at a calmer place than i do? 

I am not sure that there are answers but if I don’t even search for them, that will only make me feel more miserable. So here is to the new start. Here is to the new beginning. I realized this a few days back that if you have lot of opinions and you are loud and firm about them, others feel threatened by them. They tell you that everyone is entitled to their own opinions when you don’t even try to pull theirs down. I am not going to stop having lots of opinions because they serve me well. I am not slave to them either. They just help me make observations and take up new risks. They are like my observation to my social experiments and I am.not ashamed of them. But I might lower down my pitch a notch. I might use my typing speed than my loud voice to let them out. I am not popular. Not many gonna read and not many gonna get offended. They ‘ll be out of me and I will have space for more new stuff. Lets see how this little social experiment work out. Lets see how the world of letters treats my opinions. 

Ode to my writing fears.

It had been quite a long time.
Long enough to write a poem that might not rhyme 

Number of times I changed my mind about what to say.

Times I stoped the word on the tip on my tongue just right there

Times I wrote a text and deleted away

And send a smile emoticon, leaving it all unsaid

Countless thoughts in my head don’t get to the paper and pen 

I don’t think I want to write anymore to be a good writer 

I just want to do it, so that I can feel free, I can feel lighter 

I don’t want to write because I have such great ideas

I want to write because a paper doesn’t tell me it was a lesser thought 

The pen doesn’t score me that i can think better 

I am tired of being so quite 

I wrote sheets and sheets but the paper still appears white 

I am tired of being tied to express the good quality thought 

I felt fake every time I had a good idea because of attention it caught 

I am so quite and I can’t even talk to you

Your idea of me is too high and I am scared of you 

I wish you never loved me sometimes I wish I never had any talent 

I wish its still a myth because I want to talk not quote mind

You understand that I want to talk to you because I feel alone at night 

I get nightmares and get strangulated in sleep 

My soul is terrorized from the level of expectations you see

I think ten times before I open my mouth now but that’s not how I want to live 

Set me free and let me be

I want to talk and I want to speak 

I don’t have anything to say, no story no poetry 

I just want to sit and talk and want you to listen and respond 

I want you to know that I am not perfect and I feel haunted with the ghost of perfection

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