Have you ever seen your naked soul? Thread bare out there, put on display right in front of you. All your scars, your fears, your issues. Slowly reflecting almost cruelly back to you. There is no escape from the scream that is frozen in time. No escape from disappointments, half truths, failures. All exhibited in a lovely manner for you to watch again and again and all over again. Like a bouquet of roses but wilted and dead. This is where she has banished me. ‘Hall of Mirrors’ she says, ‘Cause Darling, mirrors never lie’
I have told many people in Purgatory that she is cruel. She is a sadist. She wants me to crack. Wants me to beg for her to drop me from the limbo. Push me and let me fall to peace or fire; just fall. But others lap at her demand. they just want to be forgiven or forgotten. They believe she is an angel, this Queen of theirs. They will do anything for her attention, her atonement, her time. Maybe its my pride, maybe its my stupidity or maybe I think its my foolish attempt to redeem myself. She comes everyday around here. In the dept of these hollows her crimson gown scorching a trail leaving behind her smoke of gray. She teases, she baits, she watches, she waits.
She walks upto me. Her intent stare rakes my skin dry. Like she can look into me all the way to me soul. She stares quietly with her head titled. Up close she is beautiful. I can see her alabaster skin, so pale it glows on its own. Her hair, a spilled halo. How can someone so beautiful be so cruel? Suddenly she throws her head back and laughs ‘Vanity darling. I love these mirrors, they keep my vanity alive’
In these halls are mirrors gilded of gold. They are in an infinite spiral, going all the way up to nowhere.Round and round the reflections of sins in every mirror. This is where my story is reflected, my life, my fears. On and on the indefinite loop goes. Here is where my sins come to life repeatedly, in these mirrors the reflection of my doings are etched. Mirrors never lie. These mirrors don’t. Some before me who have passed through these halls told me to not look and close my eyes shut, but aren’t they the ones naive?
Have you truly looked yourself in the mirror. See your scars for the first time? Your withered soul? Your dead dreams? Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror and not know who you were seeing? There is loud pounding in your head. Your skin feels alien to you. Something is clawing at your insides wanting to burst forward. Its wanting to surface and its wanting to take control but you don’t want it to so you learn the easy trick. You learn how to not know yourself. You don’t recognize the Man you see in the mirror. It becomes a vessel, a body unknown. You think you have protected yourself. Bargained your reflection for your soul. You dupe yourself in a lull of protection. Easily forgotten.You comfort yourself in denial. But I a telling you, when she will walk pass by you it will be too late for you to realize, it was the other way around - you bargained your vanity for your soul.
Cause as she said ‘These mirrors don’t lie’.
This is where your demons hide.
Have you ever felt silence?
So quiet, so calm that you can feel the beat of your heart, the blood coursing through your veins, the sweat running down your cheek. Silence so loud that is its deafening. Silence so intense that you shake from it. You quaver in your boots; your fingers draw blood in closed fists. There is black behind your closed eyes, dark like a crow’s feather; an abyss of silence.
Welcome to the limbo. The edge of hell. Where sinners and saints are all stay the same.
Some of us here fall and some of us don’t. Some of us want to fall while some of us want to push others. We offered our souls, our money, our gold and our children to go back. Nobody is listening. Redemption seems to be out of question. We tried in vain to bargain. Argue our sins and sell our blessing. Nobody is listening.
Welcome to the limbo. Here we free fall an endless fall.
You can smell the fear. It’s rustic at first but nauseating as it rolls of their skins. The collision of hate, terror, self sacrifice and fear plays out in a beautiful symphony. First comes Hate, easiest of human emotions. Hatred for dying and yet not entirely dying. Then comes terror of being suspended in air, of the fire beneath the feet. Then you will see them offer themselves up, like a small child begging for salvation, for redemption – to save themselves still being selfish and still not learning. Oh they never learn, they never do.
You see these emotions go to war and only one that manifests - Fear. Like a battle waged in the mind, masked on their faces and dejected by their bodies. Only Fear wins out in the end. The fear of never falling. The fear of never hitting the ground. The fear of running out their screams. Their bodies dropping like stones anchoring down with their sins to hit no ground. Lastly, the fear of never being heard again.
Welcome to the limbo. Where there are no echoes and nobody is listening.
I have been here for years. I have seen Kings, peasants, Dictators, mothers, poets jump to their fate. Just saints and sinners alike rushing for a result. Trying to reach the end of it all. They jump, they crawl, the push – they fall. Thinking it would be their last salvation. Believing their sins will be atoned for through their act of self sacrifice. Little do they know that they will never land. Never will they feel the earth beneath their feet. I have stood here for years watching people scream. Scream to high power, their Gods, their brothers. I have seen them bargain their medallions, mumbling away on their rosary beads slowly counting away their sanity. Crying, begging with tear stained cheeks. You can watch it all but never hear them. You can see their anguished red faces, their pent up frustration. Some of them break down and just beg to be taken, but to where? They themselves cannot hear their answers. You can see them scream to themselves still deaf to their own ears. They still keep on doing it never learning. Oh they never learn, they never do.
You can feel what they feel like they are inside your head but you can never put words to them. Like a puppet they move an act but you can’t hear them speak. My feet have never moved in centuries and I have seen them all go raving mad with need of being heard, the need so basically human – just to be heard once but nobody is listening. There is only one thing that you can actually hear here.
It’s the silence. The silence of waiting.
Welcome to the limbo – where we wait. Wait to meet our fate.
Ties that bind us, Are the ties that break us,
In this haze of gun smoke, who is the devil and who is the killer?
Oh what futile effort trying to solve this two piece puzzle
Somebody is torching this home but there is the kingdom which burns in fire
Finest Queen visits me, surprises me with her halo.
Dressed in red, a devil, an angel, a secret she holds
Caught between heaven and earth, a purgatory, a torture
There are wings, there are mirrors, there are cures, there are doors
This two color pill she offers, a choice, a solution, a way out
Death is near, the bridge to continue she says,
Bargain torture for light, follow through You Sinner, you have to die!
What she does know is that,
I am too happy to be here, cuffed to these grays
Too comfortable, too numb, too calm, too soon,
I won’t race my time away, I won’t cut my time short
So I am caught in this dreary, crimson nation population
I won’t waste my heart on this faith you offer, a pill of choice, a door of crisis
My body tells me no, my soul maybe sheared down to core
Your spiral crown, your jewels of gold, O you Queen of Purgatory!
Who are you to tell me which way is my home?
When Taylor Swift dropped her album Red late last year, she was asked if she considered herself a feminist. She said, “I don’t really think about things as guys versus girls. I never have. I was raised by parents who brought me up to think if you work as hard as guys, you can go far in life.”
I am not a Feminist, I am a Woman and that should be Feminist enough for the world.
Diary of Num turned 1 today!
YAYYYYYYYYYY :D Good times tumblr, Good times!
George Orwell was a writer’s writer.
While he knew what it took to write a cult classic – the likes of Animal Farm, for examples – he knew much more about the very act of writing and creation itself.
In his 1946 essay Why I write, Orwell explores the four reasons why he believes…
Recently I just completed a marathon of 8 seasons of Scrubs (no it was not one sitting but it was close). A friend of mine suggested me to watch that show and I am kind of glad that I gave in and watched it. I am a tv buff, I delve into deep analysis of television philosophy, finding a part of myself in characters, googling the music and wringing out lessons from them - yes I am one of those people (they do exists - shush). So here I am writing a piece from my gather ‘wisdom’ from few of the shows I have watched. (Few)
What do John Dorian (from #Scrubs), Ted Moseby (from #HowIMetYourMother), Phil Dunphy (from #ModernFamily) and Cappie (from #Greek) have in common?
The child-like wonder of life.
All these characters refusal to grow up always stuck a chord with me. With JD’s persistant toddler like nagging of earning his superior’s approval or Ted’s not flaying hope for the quest for the love his life, Cappie’s indignation on finding his true self or Phil’s dreams, they all circle back to one thing - Do I have to grow up?
So does growing up mean I have to let go of my dreams? I think not. Growing up doesnt has to be about being a cynic. Whats the fuss about adulthood anyway? Sure people get married, they get jobs, they have kids but do they have to let go of their inner child? - I hope not. Should JD have been realistic and realized that he didnt need anybody’s approval, Ted given up on his quest and settled for just anybody, Cappie’s continued with self sabotaging and Phil to give up on his inventions? Does growing up meaning I have to let go of it all?
The inner child is what keeps us optimistic, It makes us do all those stupid things. Steal food from our friends’ plate, make faces at each other, crack incredulous jokes in stressed out situations and better yet just smile in our hard times. It gives us hope for better times, it gives us courage to see the best in people. It makes us believe that love exists, family is important and moments are precious.
Its a choice. Growing up is choice. It doesnt come with passage of time and its doesn’t automatically happen for you. Its a choice. You have to make the choice not when the time comes but when you think the time is right.
So do I have to let go of my inner child to be treated like an adult? For me the answer is no. Sometimes I refuse to grow up but then at the same time I know I am not a child anymore, I have to face the music but I am a hopeless dreamer and I will like to be one forever. You can say you have to learn to grow up with your inner child. Eventually you do learn to filter out the stuff that matters, friends that will stick around. You learn whats important to know and what you can do without. You discover things about yourself, about others and about the universe in general. You end up learning not every time everything is fair, There are gray areas and people wont always play nice. You learn to filter out the bullshit, identify the lies, taper down your expectations and make new jokes.
My childhood is over. The last vestiges of it are something I will desperately hold on to because I dont want to live in a dreary world where nothing happens, dreams are crushed, betrayal and deception continue but at the same time I dont belong in the unicorns and rainbow believing club either.
I am happy where I am, realistic enough to know bad people exists and bad things happen and stupid enough to continue self discovery, believe in miracles and learn.