Real or not real?

In the cold silence of the night, the light emanating from the night lamps falling on the wet grass. I saw me. Clear as life. The questions resurfaced again, the questions I’ve been wanting to ask for long time now. I approached myself. There were so many questions.

“Who are you?”, I blurted out before I could stop.

“I am you”, was the answer.

“Is this real?”, I asked

“You are real”

“What is this place?”, I asked

“This place is you”, he said

“What is love?”

“It’s need. The need to have somebody to be to share your life with”

“Is it real?”

“No it’s not. Life is a system, a system where people depend on other people, need each other. This need is what people deem as love. If the system was changed and people were self-sufficient, this supposed love would cease to exist. People talk about love and perfect partners because that’s what they think it is.”

“But then, are you saying that nothing is real?”, I asked

“Life has its ways. Things change, feelings change with time. Time is the only thing there is that is real. Every thing else changes.”

“Who are you again?”, I asked.

“I’m your thoughts and doubts. This is your world. I’m you.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It has been a long time since I wrote something. Please do give it a read. Feedback would be appreciated.

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What is happiness?

Life is the most enigmatic creation. It’s a never-ending maze where every step you take unveils a new problem, every turn unleashes a new horror. It’s a game, with the stakes being as high as everything you ever craved for. You stumble through the maze, thirsty, exhausted, in hopes of finding that little patch of water. A shining light in the never-ending darkness, a beacon of hope. When there is darkness and silence all around even the flutter of a bird’s wings means hope. Happiness. As short-lived as the flutter of a bird’s wings after years of silence, the emergence of the sun from the clouds after the storm. So petty, yet so significant. That is happiness. It isn’t having the best and the most luxurious things in life, it is having something that makes life worth living.

Irtiza Haider

Goodbyes.

whirlpoolofemotions

I suppose the worst goodbyes are the ones that are never said. No last words said, no tears shed, no promises made. Conversations die down, you move further and farther away from each other, drift apart quietly into the distance, slowly at first, and then all at once. And by the time you realize this, they’re gone. Forever. They’ve left you alone stranded on an island. Hopeless. Helpless. Alone. With unanswered questions on your mind, unsaid words lingering on the curve of your lips and a whirlpool of emotions generating within you that destroys you and you die right there, right then, a little with every breath you take. You’re just left there like a silhouette fading into the dark, slowly being eaten away by your own reality. 

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Unsolved Mystery

Juan comes up to the Mexican border on his bicycle. He has got two large bags over his shoulders. The guard stops him and says, “What is in the bags?” “Sand” answers Juan. The guard says, “We’ll just see about that, get off the bike.” The guard takes the bags and rips them apart; he empties them out and finds nothing in them but sand. He retains Juan overnight and has the sand analysed, only to discover that there is nothing in the bags. The guard releases Juan, puts the sand in new bags and hangs them onto the man’s shoulder, and lets him cross the border. A week later, the same thing happens. The guard asks, “What have you got?” “Sand” says Juan. The guard after thorough examination, discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand. He gives the sand back to Juan, who crosses the border on his bicycle. This sequence of events is repeated every week for three years. Finally Juan doesn’t show up one say and the guard meets him in a canteen in Mexico. “Hey buddy” says the guard, “I know you are smuggling something. It’s driving me crazy. It’s all think about. I cannot sleep. Just between you and me, what are you smuggling?” Juan sips his drink and says “Bicycles.”

But You Didn’t

I looked at you and smiled the other day
I thought you’d see me but you didn’t
I said “I love you” and waited for what you would say
I thought you’d hear me but you didn’t
I asked you to come outside and play ball with me
I thought you’d follow me but you didn’t
I drew a picture just for you to see
I thought you’d save it but you didn’t
I made a fort for us back in the woods
I thought you’d camp with me but you didn’t
I found some worms ‘n such for fishing if we could
I thought you’d want to go but you didn’t
I needed you just to talk to, my thoughts to share
I thought you’d want to but you didn’t
I told you about the game hoping you’d be there
I thought you’d surely come but you didn’t
I asked you to share my youth with me
I thought you’d want to but couldn’t
My country called me to war, you asked me to come home safely
But I didn’t.

Stan Gebhardt

Life

Dear Diary,

Life is strange. I woke up early, the only sound I hear is the peaceful twittering of birds, the only light I see, the distant glow of the rising sun. Compared to the usual world full of chaos, the peace was somewhat unnerving and invigorating at the same time. Thoughts came, in that clarity of mind, deep as the oceans, yet strange. It’s the world we crave, the world we think about, all the time. We are virtually lost. We are preoccupied with our problems, so much that we find it hard to think about life, our purpose in this world, and our ultimate aim for the hereafter. We are aboard on a ship, lost in the currents of the oceans, waiting with everyone to find out the final destination. Such is our predicament. Yes, predicament. We are in the middle of an ocean, nobody knows what lies ahead, and get we remain impervious. Occasionally a storm blows, shaking everyone, killing some, but still the ship goes on, and with it, ‘Life’. We wait and wait, for the unseen, hoping against hope that the outcome turns out to be good, yet not prepared to consider the implications, if it’s the other way round. Still, life goes on.