I cant write anything beautiful. I feel ugly.

I want to run to the beach and scream your name out. I know tears. The sea will be comforting, for it makes no difference, it readily accepts my tears like a mother opens her arms for her baby. I want to write your name all over the sand. I want to scream your name, i want to write it all over the sand. That name which i dont let my lips utter, i cant say your name, for my mother or my father might hear it. I would tell my friends but they feel i'm sick, i'm ill. I can picture your name on sand. Your name, there for all the people to look at, for them to walk over it. I know what you think, what will this do?What does anything I do now change anyway? You didnt let me do anything. But what did you do? You wont dare to think of it. You dont feel guilty. You stole my life from me. But that doesnt matter now. Now its not about you, because I dont know you. I dont know you anymore, I still know the you I am in love with. But not the you who lies. Not the you who forgets the small things in life? Is life only for one's convenience? Is it only for one's end? Is it only for you to be what you want? I am not saying these words but merely echoing what you believe. Where is what you called 'living for other people?'. And i am not even asking for any sort of sacrifice, I simply asked you to tell me the truth. But to lie is so convenient. You call me someone who wanted to run away, what to you think about yourself? I see you, you see me and then life gets back to you. Its so convenient to not let yourself feel. I had a friend say to me the other day, if you feel you are drowning ill pull you back, and then those are the people who have their lives to live. I cant expect them to listen to what i say, obsorb all the ugly colour i spray. But you know what i said, I said i dont want to be pulled back, I will swim. Its these little things that seem like mere sentences, that change nothing in your life, but to me, they are signs all the time. They are the stories of me. I dont want you to know how long my hair has grown, I am scared. Thats why i made sure my hair was neatly tied last night. I will not let you see it. I will not take my cycle from home. Its not just your home, its mine too, and you cant make me unbelieve. I do have some control over my life. I will. I will feel pretty again, go to goa , get a hair cut and I will listen to Bjork's Medulla one day. I will write beautiful one day.


I write it all here on this page, nowhere but everywhere, noone can see it but everyone can, and its not meant for anyone but everyone can read it.