Oblivion!

And in the choice of life and death, I am a pendulum choosing nothing – just lingering. I want to walk away– but my feet listen to me no longer. It’s  grieving the steps I probably didn’t take.  Lingering for choices had never been this harder,  as for the absolute extremities of my own,  the eyes that wept in desolation,  wishing for existence to fade away,  the whiskey that washed my fears of death, and the indifference that made me wish for it.  I no longer feel a human,  perhaps borrowing art from artists and soul from life made me a heinous entity whose crime  was wanting a will to live;  this entity deserves nothing, or perhaps  the idea of nothing. But in the tattoos and music taste, a bitter taste of coffee lingers,  a predicament, even,  of a wish the entity seems to rehabilitate upon. This entity  is a nuisance, a bruise. This entity is just absence. Yet,  it acts as if it trusts itself.  There’s s...

Grief is emotion on steroids. You are fine one moment, sipping tea in your room, and the very next you break down crying as someone’s laughter echoes in the room next door. It comes to you as you sit with a group of people reading a book you really love, and the disquiet that stems from not turning the page at the right moment gives you an ache you can’t comprehend. It gets to you as you stand on the train waiting for your stop, and pours at you when you are smiling towards the moon in hopes of a good night. Grief comes to you as if you are its home, because you’ll welcome it no matter what. Grief houses itself in the tiny corridors near the valves of your heart, waiting for you to recognize it, waiting for you to feel it, waiting for you to see it with your own eyes as you stand tall in front of a mirror and your eyes look into the void of lifelessness situated in that image. It’s not dark; it’s full of light, full of sentiments you don’t want to know, and grief stares back at you. It...