So… I see you decided to leave.
You came one glorious sunny day and gave me a certain orange mark on my blog, and even WordPress proudly announced “You have a new follower!” I was overjoyed of course! And I must have sent you a Note of Thanks, as I always do without fail, because I believe in it that much.
You read my posts for a while, and I smiled to see your Likes. You led me on, made me believe you were enjoying what I wrote.
But then BAM! Without reason, without notice, you left me stranded, you left me without a word, and no goodbye! You never let me know the real feelings you went by, did you think I won’t notice and you could simply slip by?
Well you were wrong.
I noticed. And it hurt. So what that I don’t remember your name, I do feel having lost your presence!
Why would you do it? Why would you never say that you were losing the feel in my posts? Why would you hold your grudging even when I say I welcome all comments? Why would you Slander, Mutinise? On my ship, under my command, you chose to sneak out? WHY?
I know it’s your choice.
And I accept you had all right.
But no goodbye?
That seems dry.
Sorry, I get poetic when I am charged. But you didn’t even like my poetry! You never spoke about my work, never made a sound. But with what a loud bang you left!
From a perfect 40 you left me and made it 39. So incomplete, so raw! But I can’t really blame you… you left because you didn’t like me anymore. Makes me think… what set you off?
Oh I’m doing it again! Did you leave because of posts like this? Where I whine and whine and cry out insanely and maybe you got fed up! Because we aren’t even married, and you still get a regular dose of my complaints?! Or was it because of jokes like this? That I play too much with the sanctity of marriage?!
Oh then, you must hate me for all the things I say against the government, you law-abiding citizen! If I promised I never broke any law, and swear to never be an iota seditious would you come back?
Oh please come back!
Or tell me what went wrong!
Wait! I know it! You just hated my writing!
So… not even my pics would reel you back in?
Nope? No chance?
Maybe I could….
All right… but if you MUST leave… maybe you’ll write a Sayonara Comment? ONE comment? That would mean…
Hey! You walked out on me! You owe me that much!
No? Whatever you say, you’re the boss.
You’re in charge. Since you chose to act up, mister and leave without telling! Huh!
Post Script: Yes, someone just unfollowed me. But all the rest is just made up. 🙂 I am giving him none of this ramble, and I don’t think anyone will ever get it. So feel free to follow or unfollow! 😀 See ya!
NOTE- This one’s a bit intense and maybe requires some thinking. And maybe philosophical some would say. So ignore it if you’re dim.
Feeling desolate and alone and absolutely helpless is easy. Specially when you care about things, when you believe in the right and would probably stand up against the wrong.
That also means you have all the more chance of being judged, being trodden upon, being killed, slayed and absolutely slaughtered to bits.
Does that take away your reason to live? To want to be yourself?
Does that mean that you should give up the thoughts that are bringing all this trouble? That would mean, be careful, that if you saw a girl in danger of rape, you would walk on, because now you have given up hope on Right.
Sometimes I think about this stuff, sometimes it makes me sad. But here are some defences I put up to say that good people must never feel the need to die. Today I decided to post it, because hell, if there’s anyone else, even one person, who has though about this, I hope they were half as optimistic, half as willing to put their trust in Hope.
Why a Thinker should never want to die
Thinkers are people who actually put their brains to work when they are told something. They don’t believe whatever they are told. They may at least once have wondered about God. They may believe in things that are not proved, but must have their reasons to, not simply because ‘that’s how everyone does it’.
If they managed that, that’s reason enough for them to live.
No? Not convinced?
Round up a group of people. Ask them one question; “If you had to chose between the world’s best chocolate custom made for you and a rich girl, what would you go for?”
That’s no judgement question. There’s no right and wrong answer.
It’s just any question.
But everyone reveals the kind of person they are with the way they answer.
And THAT is the judgement criteria.
Should they say, “the girl of course” laugh away at their joke but remember how they see a girl before they see a person. Or money. What kind of girl, we didn’t say. But did they ask? They chose her because she was a girl, or for the money. And that’s you cue right there.
Should they say “the chocolate!!!” laugh away again. But they didn’t ask abut the girl either. They didn’t really understand the situation, so how could they chose.
Now the real answer for this question was “Get the girl and get her to get the choc.” That’s the smart answer, but that’s also the mean answer.
But anybody who thinks, anybody who gives a shit about the world, or about things being right, will give you an answer that’s worth it.
Their answer may not be perfect. Might not make you laugh. Might not make them seem cool. But they’ll mean it.
And sure as hell, when people start meaning what they do, maybe there wouldn’t a bully in high school, maybe there wouldn’t be a rapist on a dark corner, maybe there wouldn’t be a sadist waiting to live on sorrow….
Maybe Thinkers will one day, make the world mean something.
And that is why they must live.
Please feel free to hate me. Please feel free to criticize me, label me (Idealist, wouldn’t it be?), make me seem like I’m different because that’s how I think. But sure as anything, you can not kill me.
I still have hope.
You haven’t broken me yet, and you never will. Unless I chose to.
That’s all your powers extend to. My CHOICE.
So, good day.
Note- Fiction. I’m writing romance these days, for no particular reason, but as long as it is coming, I don’t mind. Preparing for the Half Yearlies can be really exhausting!
Jagged and cut throughout its length, the frail garment made Style cry. The soft pink silk shredded into ribbons, the thread loose and breaking, the gown falling apart. Every time she tore his gifts or burned his letters he wanted to cry. But he promised himself, he won’t until he understood- why. So Style wiped a stray tear and gathered the dress and bundling it in his arms, he fled downstairs. He shut the door of his study, blocked out the world and buried his head in the torn silk. Would it speak to him? Would it explain? Did the undertone of her wrath- why had she destroyed it? But the lifeless gown greeted him cold and he only felt more lost in his unanswered questions. Why wouldn’t she speak to him? Why wouldn’t she see him? What had happened to his lovely bride that she hated him so? Why the constant punishment? What was his sin, his crime? If she’d only tell him, he would understand and set everything right. Just what was his crime?
Mrs Style. She hated it. She hated what she had done to that beautiful name. Se had wanted to be Mrs Style. She had become. But she had ruined it for him, and for her. Why couldn’t she just let it be? Why had she done it? Why had she even given him a thought when she had Style? Him, that other man. How could she do it? How could she dance in his arms and smile at him? How cold she come home to him and dream about him? How could she call herself Mrs Style when she’d fallen in love with him? She had torn the gown. Like all his previous gifts. She had shut him out. Ever since she’s loved him. She had driven him to hell, hoping and praying,that he’d give her up, he’d hate her. But he just wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop loving her every morning and send her a present with the breakfast maid. He wouldn’t stop finding it shattered outside her door every evening, without fail. Why wouldn’t he hate her, loathe her for this repay of his love? How could she tell him that she had betrayed him and he should give her up? She couldn’t tell him directly- he would put too much faith in their marriage, he’d believe she’d come about. But she wouldn’t come about! He would live a lie! If she could only tell him, and he could understand… everything would be right. But in Lord’s name, what was HIS crime?
Dear Secret Hater,
I am grateful for your letter in Math Class today. I never knew I had a secret hater, but you made me feel very special. Specially when Ma’am caught hold of that letter while I was reading it, and was cordial enough to read it out aloud, so I don’t have to repeat it myself. She’s such a gem.
I was exceptionally surprised by your mentioning that I wear my House T-shirt out of my skirt, I would never have thought anyone would notice it since rarely anyone has it inside. Great observation skills! We’ll make you Sherlock Holmes one day.
Of course, that little fact makes all the difference. You know correct, and mentioned as much, that I don’t get time in the morning to tuck it in, which in turn shows I am a lazy bum who rushes who gets up late. I probably trouble my mom too, since I persistently choose to be untidy in my dressing. Yes, even constant scolding by teachers to put the shirts in doesn’t get to me, I am just incorrigible. And certainly also thick. I am amazed by how much you got to know about me through that simple shirt sticking out. Of course, everyone else in the school must do it because it looks convincingly heinous inside, but me, yes, I do it because I ma all the vile things you mentioned. So apt. Thank you for understanding me correctly.
I almost forgot! You mentioned volleyball. I see you noticed. Again. Sometimes I think even the coach doesn’t. Speaks volumes about you! Do I have a dedicated follower? I don’t know why the whole class laughed when ma’am read aloud your letter- when you said- “my suggestion to you is, Abandon. You play god knows what and are a huge burden to your team. At least save your own face, you’re doing no one no good. ” That’s so well-wishing of you! Seriously, why would they laugh?! Maybe because I’m Captain of the Senior team? Maybe because my team only recently got humiliated publicly for skipping practice while they awarded me Best Player. Maybe because I am the best Attacker in the school right now? I don’t know.
And the photograph! I, am so touched!
Where did you take that snap of me pushing that little kid? I thought no one was looking. But apparently, a very special person was! Did you happen to notice also the bus that was coming and that the kid was standing in it’s way? Only the visor was visible in your picture. But no sweat! I am so glad someone appreciates my efforts, even outside school!
I really must go now, Dearest Hater. Even though I realise I am being rude, not thanking you for all the things you said, I am SURE you won’t mind one bit. I really got to go write my blog (which you also happened to mention!) I have a party at my place later, in lieu of it being my birthday today. So thoughtful of you to send me that letter today- my first present of the day!
I’ll get back to your faithful reviews of all my activities every minute of the day,
With great respect for your time management skills, as you sent me that 14 page letter even when the exams are coming this Friday!
Most most sincerely,