The Nightmare________________

The arm stretched out to be held 

Then why did it seem so strange and threatening? 

I woke up and told myself 

"The nightmares have begun."

They said in the newspaper that a study revealed that social sharing made events 

real. 

How unreal we must feel in our feelings or how unjustified? That to make them REAL we need to have someone affirm it for us... Almost like living for a later date...Living as a documentation or proof of having lived...waiting for a witness...waiting for a judge to allow us to embody it...

How unseen we must feel in our lives in general for this to be...how lonely and empty... How did we come to be this way? Perhaps by being too non-existent in the eyes of those who we wished cared for our existence. Perhaps we learnt early on that it is better to be hidden and be seen only in parts. 

reminds me of photographers at weddings whom we don't even know, who don't even know us to guide every move so it looks a certain way to the world and to us...

The wish to be seen is a powerful wish. The wish to be seen in a certain way is a very dangerous wish! It edits us. Makes us too unreal, non-existent, empty , not there...It's a murder with no haunting. 

And they thought desire was a straight road...only to find that  nauseating sinking feeling of the free fall into sudden strangeness of that which they thought led to what they desired...

And the pages from the printer kept flipping out one after another per half a second in her mind where letters kept getting written to addresses she couldn't find...

Why does no one ask her about why she wants to scoop up other people in her arms like a mother does an infant... Why would she rather kiss their faces wet than ever wonder about her dry cheeks?  Why does she always want to play the host to other people's mind n body whereas her own lies vacant... Vacant... Sometimes she's not sure if there are any walls or rooms... She in fact finds them in the minds of other people and tries to make their bed and put on the tea and sleep by their side awake...wishing they would wake up but actually not coz time could stand still like this... Is she the host? Or is she finding herself a room in others' homes n trying to make it so good and comfy for them that perhaps they would invite her to stay... Stay on... But could she stay? She never stayed in her own soul... She easily slipped into roles that fit them best... But they did not want her fluffy pillows... They didn't want her thousand kisses... She doesn't know what they want... She is too busy making their beds... Occupying the timelessness of staring at someone too far away... So far away in their dream lands that she can only hear their short breaths.... The timelessness of not knowing if this time her shifting would wake them up... Only when they are so so far away can she almost begin to hear her own breath from somewhere behind theirs.

The light that we see from the twinkling stars had traveled years before... Only to meet us now... Is that awesome or is that sad? I do not know... It has traveled so far... But from so far...

That house of cards, the tallest one 
On top of which I want to sit;
cross legged. 

It's blows down with my own breath 
The pumping of my own heart. 

But I sat on it cross legged, sipping tea with biscuits!