The End

Life, as I know it, ended today,
I guess I always saw it coming my way,
Hope was the problem, didn’t let me give in,
I’m burning in hell, but what was my sin?!!

All I did was loved you, unconditioned and true.
The complication to come, I never knew,
Not a thing I could do different, that’ll spare me this fate
I ran race to lose, I started too late.

I hope you stay happy, hope you prove that I’m wrong
That I was the only one, you should have belonged,
Coz that would be so hard to bear if it comes true
……………… forget it! I pray that you make it through.

I’ll hate if I’ll recover, I’ll hate if I don’t
I wish it doesn’t affect me, but I’ll hate if it won’t.
Can’t see you get hurt even if I’m torn to pieces
For you I’ll live and welcome death with thousand kisses.

It’s Between Me And God

They say life’s fun. You live each day for others expectations, and die each day for some of your own. Hope is the biggest problem – doesn’t let you let go.

They say history repeats itself. I have seen it too. Sometimes so accurately that you see what’s coming from miles away. Still, hope is the problem. Hope that maybe things will be different this time.

They say definition of madness is to try the same thing again and again, expecting different results. Again, hope is the problem. Makes you go against all your reasons, all your logic.

They say hope is a good thing, and no good thing ever dies. Personally, I prefer to have faith. Hope is too short term, too circumstantial. Faith in destiny is better – less confining to the hard reality.

They say everything changes. Well, then why does history have to repeat itself!

They say life’s fun…

When hungry for a ray of hope,
They die starving coz there’s none
I don’t know why they complain,
I think it’s really fun

Losing My Senses

Looking back everything seems like a dream,
The calmness, the chaos,
The silence, the screams.

People I talked to, things I said,
Fragments of memory come alive and die,
It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not,
When you feel so low and get so high.

Thank you all for being there,
And thank you for listening to all I said.
Sometimes when you lose your heart,
It kinda feels good to lose your head.

Alone

Amidst thousands of people, we all walk alone.

Torn

To burn being who I am, or die and be who they want me to be,
To forget you, or simply forget me,
To fade to numb, or endlessly think,
To fight and drown, or give up and sink,

Through all the twists of fate, curves and bends,
I always knew how it ends,
No matter what I choose,
……………………………… I lose.

Final Analysis

I analyze a lot. Everything. All the time. And all I got out of it is tired. Maybe this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, maybe it’s not how we’re supposed to live. Then again, maybe I’m getting myself into yet another analysis…

Don’t think too much; you’ll start to doubt everything. Just listen to your heart. Say what you want to say, write what you want to write… sing all you want to sing.

Savour each moment… each feeling… feel and feel alive. Don’t judge… understand others… and most importantly yourself.

I’ve never laughed in vain, never shed a tear in vain. Vanity is for those who seek something in the end. All that is there to see, all that is there to feel, it’s all in the moments.

A smile can change a night into a day and a simple line can change a day into a night. I know in the long run it’s all in vain but I seek my meanings in the moments in between.

There’s Heaven Around Me And Hell Within

There are people who wish they could hear what goes inside other people’s head… I wish I could stop hearing what goes inside mine.

There’s heaven around me and hell within. I guess it’s the same with most of us. I believe we are the reason we are complaining.

I want to turn deaf ear to these doubts, these premonitions. I want to hear that laughter, that voice… unfiltered… straight from my ears to my heart. For once, I want to be happy for all that I’ve got and not worry about all that I could lose.

 

… … I’m listening to “Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong… for 37th time tonight.

More on Soul Searching

“Soul searching won’t get you anywhere when there’s not much to search for.”

I see vanity everywhere. When I look at life from  a certain distance I see endless loops. Change is just an illusion. Nothing ever changes. I keep coming back to the same place again and again.

Maybe that’s why some the most trivial things in life give me the most joy. The minor things in life are the most important for me, because, even though for a few fleeting moments, they take me away from the ineluctable futility.

Don’t get me wrong here. I’m neither a nihilist, nor a pessimist. Strangely enough, I regard my self an optimist… it’s just, I’m not too good at it.

A Bit of Soul Searching

I was just trying to think my life object oriented way and I thought I have become the worst instance of it.

- waamax

Soul searching won’t get you anywhere when there’s not much to search for.

- theCipher

My Eyes Are Jealous Of My Heart

My eyes are jealous of my heart.

It’s amazing how a single thing can mean various things to various people. Maybe that’s why poetry is so beautiful; it’s written for you. It’s the symbolism in it that makes it so vague and yet so familiar. When Pink Floyd sang “The rain fell slow down on all the roofs of uncertainty; I thought of you and years of all the sadness fell away from me”, or when Jagjit Singh wrote “Hum lavon se kehena paaye unse haal-e-dil kabhi, aur woh samjhe nahi ye khamosi kya cheez hai”, or when a friend of mine said the line “My eyes are jealous of my heart”, I knew what they were talking about.

Then again, when I think about it, it’s most likely that I possibly can’t understand what made them choose those words. But it’s not about what the lines meant to them. It’s about what it means to me. How I relate with each of those lines. Those lines were mine. A gift – from them to me. And I’ll forever be thankful for the lines.

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(This is my dedication to those lines)

Who are you?
Why do i feel this?
I’m scared;
I try to hide,
The hurt that’s inside.
I can’t do it again;
Walked that line once,
Felt the pain.

You call me from somewhere.
I want to answer,
But do I dare?
My senses are numb,
But I can hear.
Still, how can I?
how can i forget the tears?
The fear
It’s still there,
Forever to stay.
You take me back
To the rainy day,
The sunset and the stars;
A few days of laughter,
Then a lifetime of scars.

You tell me it’ll be different;
You encourage me to have faith.
Faith in love,
Rising above,
The heartaches of the past.
The power of believing,
My heart rejoices in this new feeling.
I sense a new start,
I wonder if it’s real.
My silly heart’s sings in joy,
My cynical eyes just can’t feel.
My heart sees a happy ending,
But my eyes see us being apart.
Burned, tourmented and scarred,
My eyes are, forever, jealous of my heart.

When There’s Something Inside.. .. .. Write!

You should write. Even if you have nothing to tell anyone, even if it’s nothing new. Write to remember. Write to tell yourself how you felt. Not the events but the feelings. Not the memories but emotions. Coz the memories will stay with you but the emotions will change their shape and direction faster then the clouds in a windy day.
When I look back through the pages of my diary what intrigues me most is not the events that happened but how each of them made me feel. Coz only that tells me who I have been and who I am now… how I have changed, and no matter what happens, how I’ll always remain the same.

Gloomy Sunday

I had heard about this song many times before… almost each time with different lyrics. The reason behind this inconsistency in words is that this was first written in Hungarian language and later different artists translated it in their own way.

I found this version here and instantly fell in love with the misery in it…

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GLOOMY SUNDAY

Sadly one Sunday
I waited and waited
With flowers in my arms
All the dream has created
I waited ’til dreams,
Like my heart, were all broken
The flowers were all dead
And the words were unspoken
The grief that I know
Was beyond all consoling
The beat of my heart
Was a bell that was tolling

Saddest of Sundays

Then came a Sunday
When you came to find me
They bore me to church
And I left you behind me
My eyes could not see
What I wanted to love me
The earth and the flowers
Are forever above me
The Bell tolled for me
And the wind whispered, “Never!”
But you I have loved
And I’ll bless you forever

Last of all Sundays

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Gloomy Sunday from The Singer (Mute, 1992)Writing credits: Diamanda Galas; performed by Diamanda Galas.

On Second Thought…

Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for – in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.

- Ellen Goodman