stripped bare

Archive for the ‘Dear Diary’ Category

Clean airy minimalism.

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20140726-193629-70589691.jpg

Very apt tag line for most things that are happening in my life right now.

Happy 10th Birthday, Blog.

xoxo

Written by smudgi3

July 26, 2014, Saturday at 19:39

Posted in Dear Diary

Going around

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I saw someone post a familiar quote on my Instagram feed today. I asked her where she got it from. She said she couldn’t remember where she had seen it, but that the words had struck her very hard. Reading those very personal words again struck me hard too. If even she couldn’t forget them, how could I?

You had said those words to me a long time ago.

Written by smudgi3

December 1, 2013, Sunday at 00:13

Posted in Dear Diary

Love After Love

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The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott

Tokyo 2012

Written by smudgi3

July 24, 2013, Wednesday at 00:05

Waiting For The Day

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“Why didn’t you ever write about what happened?”

“Because it was too painful to relive.”

“But it’s been a while.”

“It still hurts like mad.”

“Maybe writing about it will help you heal faster, like Nick Carraway did in The Great Gatsby, since writing has always brought you solace.”

“Perhaps I’m waiting for the day when I don’t have to write at all.”

Written by smudgi3

June 6, 2013, Thursday at 00:40

Posted in Dear Diary, Moods

I know.

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The hand that held her phone was trembling as she read the text messages on her screen. She was crying. She was remembering. I know, because I do that too.

I looked down at the top of her head, imagining myself stooping down and giving her a hug, or any kind of comfort. That was as much as I could do, or I could risk embarrassing her, and potentially myself, by doing something like that in public. She swiped her tears away with her other hand, and wiped them on her jeans, smudging her face and staining her clothes with mascara.

A short while later, when the tears on her face had dried and her shoulders stopped heaving with sobs, she took a deep breath and looked up, and realized that I had been staring. She didn’t look away, so I smiled, hoping she would understand that I understood. That I know, because I did that too, once, at a place with faces even more foreign than these ones.

She smiled awkwardly, then stood up because it was her stop next. It was my stop too. When we both stepped out onto the platform, I handed her my pack of tissues and squeezed her hand when she reached out for it. She looked up from her hand into my eyes, and her tears fell again, as if on cue. This time, she pushed her small frame onto mine and hugged me tightly, and didn’t hold back. I put down my bag and stood there with her.

I don’t know how long we stood there, two strangers, friends for that fleeting moment, sharing pain, exchanging comfort, not uttering a single word. When she was done, we both looked at the wet gray smudges she had left on my left shoulder. I frowned at her and she giggled. She knew that I would understand. That I know, because I was once her too.

 

 

Written by smudgi3

April 22, 2013, Monday at 20:56

Posted in Dear Diary

Closure.

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A whisper, a flutter, and silence falls once more, between the worlds.

Brief Lives, The Sandman, Neil Gaiman

Written by smudgi3

March 10, 2013, Sunday at 23:22

Posted in Dear Diary, Perversion

Hello, Stranger, Goodbye.

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Hello, stranger, hello.

My eyes met yours today when the bus I was in stopped at the bus stop where you stood, hands in the front pockets of your jeans, headphones over your ears.

For the few seconds that the bus was stationary, time stood still as well. Here I sat and there you stood, safely separated by a window and anonymity, and the fact that we will never ever meet again. So boldly we stared, not pressured by space or names, and in that moment, that short fleeting moment, we were lovers.

Perhaps you were listening to the same music I was, the same beats and lyrics pounded in our ears in the seconds we shared.

Perhaps we would discover that we have a lot in common and conversation would flow in a long, continuous stream of words, dreams, and promises.

Perhaps I would find myself in your bed and our bodies would fit perfectly, just like my hand would in yours. Our foreplay of words would lead to sex, and the aftermath of our sex would transcribe into words, one no less important than the other.

Perhaps we would start completing each other’s sentences and with just a glance, you would know exactly what I was thinking. We would then decide that there would be no one else for us, that we each have found our missing halves.

Then perhaps Fate would become jealous of this love we shared, so Destiny would cut the invisible string that had tied us together.

So one day you would find that I knew you a little too well and start to pull away from me. And, mistaking your insecurities for the diminishing of your affections, I would begin to demand more of you.

So we would go on like this, this emotional tug-of-war, seduced by the warmth of our joined bodies and lying to ourselves that we were enough for each other. We would feed on the memory of that electrifying gaze we shared and drown our thirsty demons with glasses half-emptied with hopes and promises.

So then we would have nothing but resentment and anger left between us, and we would realise that love alone could no longer keep us together, when your words were no longer written for me, when I have murdered a part of you that had nestled deep within me with my own hands.

So we would walk away from each other’s lives, occasionally wondering what it might have been, occasionally wondering if it had all been a dream, occasionally reminiscing, occasionally regretting.

I hadn’t shifted in my seat, nor did you move from your position, but so much have passed between us. With each blink an episode of many “perhaps” and with each breath several “would haves”.

The bus started to move away. I had already fallen in love with you, but I knew I wouldn’t look back. You knew it too and that’s why I was gone from your mind as soon as our eyes broke contact. I was sad for a while, but what were a mere few seconds when it comes to the grand scheme of things made up of egos, pride, and selfishness?

So farewell, stranger, goodbye.

Written by smudgi3

September 27, 2012, Thursday at 01:18

Posted in Dear Diary, Perversion