This is me...

Why is it "I'm fine :)" escapes my lips regardless of the situation I'm in, the person who's asking and the context he/she is referring to? Why is it that this question makes me want to sit and ponder, even when superficially I feel quite alright? Why is it that I rush to my best friends, wanting to think aloud and talk it through, but at the same time afraid that they'll think it's another one of my crazy, sad days? Why is it that half the thoughts in my mind are left unsaid only because of the fear that the person will feel overburdened by my seemingly insignificant problems? Why is it that this fear is much greater when the said person is a dear, dear friend, whose opinion matters more to me than that of an acquaintances'? Why is it that these 3 words send me in a spiral maze of emotions I can not make any sense of?

When did we become so busy that our conversations changed from "oh you know what happened today?" to "it's a long story, I'll tell you sometime later." When did we become so different that we started feeling there was no point of sharing those little, minute details of our daily lives with each other? When did we grow so apart that we came to know even the major things in each other's lives either from someone else or much after they'd occurred? When did we become so insecure that we stopped telling each other their flaws? When did we fall out of love, and didn't even realize it?

Going through this blog, I realised it is terribly serious! So here, my friends, is another poem from the archives!  This is an acrostic poem. The first letters of the lines of the poem first spell the 12 months of the year and then the 7 days of the weeks in their short form! I had great fun writing this one. J ulian was his name A nd he was a smart kid too N othing was there that he couldn’t do F lowers were his favorite E nthusiastic he remained always; about planting new ones B ut, as he was a gentle boy, he was very afraid of violence and guns M other of his was a sweet lady A nd his father was a hardworking man R osy was his sister and they had a nice house and a nicer van A ll the people he knew were his great friends, P oor or rich he played with everyone and R arely did they not have fun M ark was his best friend A nd he was a fun (and handy) guy to be around Y es indeed, there was nothing that he couldn’t mend! J ulian was a k

I recently came across a poem I’d written way back in 2012. At that time, it was based purely on imagination- as I imagined what it would feel like when a bond broke. Today, I know that feeling. Here is the poem, raw as it was written in 2012. It is not very refined, but it is what it is and I am what I am. As I stand in the rain, The water washes away my pain And I smile remembering the good old days. As I stand in the rain, The water sweeps in the drain And I sigh remembering the nearly caught train. As I stand in the rain, I watch a passing dame And I laugh remembering the jokes which were so lame The rain stops, And the world moves on. But I keep standing there, Remembering the life we used to share. The world shouts at me, Tell me it’s high time I forgot. But I know I just can't As I stare at the ring you bought. It has a forget-me-not on it, And as I watch, it begins to lit. You told me to keep it always with me, As we s