Kaleidoscope.

"You will not be able to escape yourself, nor will you be able to hide your sins. Sooner or later, you're bound to meet the truth, and you shall live the outcome of the past wrong you have done."

Time has moved on forward, and we all have stayed where we were, fixed, immobile, unable to comprehend the present, always referring to the past and how things used to be. Time has left us all behind, and this gap of age and mindset is the murderer of what felt like the realest emotion the world could ever bless me with. A feeling that overshadows the warmth and lightness of nature, that could provide a solace far greater than the soothing blue of the eternal glass we look up to, that outshone the sun which came out after a week of rainy days - to kill that, is it not the greatest of crimes? Society - an embodiment of civilised individuals of high intellectual capabilities- proved to be inadequate to feel modern compassion. Society never ages, it's an evergreen concept with one major loophole- stagnancy. Tales of the desirability of the truth have been narrated since the ascent of man, but, are we really seekers of the truth? Truth, like water, can be moulded - whatever hurts less is accepted as the truth, whoever has power is labelled honest and the amount of paper you possess determines how truthful you really are.

Truth is, we are all lost. Who are we ? Who are you? This place we live in is a mess, the people around- dishonest. Currently, everything is deemed right if it meets a certain age criteria - love is just teenage infatuation if it's too early, irrespective of how real it might be, it will still seem to be a mere time-pass. The gap between the new and the old, this lack of connection, this technological advancement, our way of taking things fast, how open we now are to all possibilities, has defined a new kind of love - one which does not seek the past of someone but a real connection, something that plucks the strings of the heart. Gone are the times when virginity was an issue, what is that anyway? We seek our truth, someone we can live with, someone who accepts who we are as an individual, someone to laugh along our jokes and hold our hands or dry our tears and tell us things will be fine, someone to just hold throughout the night and talk our hearts out with, someone who feels just as much as we do, and who we know will love us all the way through - ambrosia.

We talk about how unified we all are, yet we break people apart. Bounded by the shackles of society, here I drowned in the floods of my bloods. Where am I at? I'm walking along the thin line between being alive and being non-existent, where you constantly ask yourself the purpose of your life and question the way things work around. Enough of the show, time to bring out the truth. Fate played dirty, back-stabbed love, brethren of the core turned into its downfall. There froze the heart in fate's ice prison, and drowning was the core in a stream of utter melancholia. Whose fault was it if it did not work out? How would love live it all out? The key lies in the wait, the answer in the lingering silence. There is more to what we just read out loud.

Golden Curls.

Moving mouths spitting nothing but sour swords cutting through all who sat at that table, a dirty scenery to be contemplating, and amidst the abuses and discussions came flying in a sun, locked into the curls of a stranger, golden amber. It took me a while to take in this magnificent landscape, dark brown eyes, the textures of which were made visible by the light adorning them, black and crimson. Have you ever gotten this feeling of slowly losing your senses, and then the harder you try to hold onto them, the more you feel they're letting go? It was hard not to keep staring at her, how could I not? I had forever been fascinated by the entities painting the sky, and she was a masterpiece, the prettiest fragment of the sky bestowed upon the world. My breath got stuck up in my chest, why was she moving in slow-mo? Was this my mind playing with me?

It's a screwed-up place to be living in, the laws of which are ridiculous and unfair, a place where each day is a new death, the end of something or someone, a grayness, a melancholy to be here. Life felt as if it were only teaching me new ways of dying, new reasons of being sad, and the longer I pondered about it, the sooner it hit me, are we all not merely dying by each passing day? Maybe this is why we hold so tightly to the little breath of life we get, cling to those who make us feel alive so dearly, and maybe that was why I could not take my eyes off her. She radiated happiness, and like a helpless river who is bound to end up in the sea, I could not help but be drawn towards her. Perhaps I had been staring for too long, for she looked up at me and smiled, and for that moment, all the work that I had been doing seemed meaningless, I lost my focus, lost my heart, and the only thing I could think about was of a smiling stranger I started dreaming my future with.

It then struck me really hard that I knew nothing about her. Who was she? I got up, walked up to my friends, asked everyone if they knew anything about her, and luckily someone did. Turns out to be, I had been her friend on Snapchat - fate, one big fancy joke. The same day I texted her, as a friend, because I did not want to rush things out. Soon enough, things came to pace. I had been helping her with some math problems, joking about mostly everything, exercising my flirting skills which were beyond lame but still worked- I still have not been able to read the old conversations, they were this lame - and I was happy again.

Why is it that when that person you've been texting all the time everyday shows up in front of you, not a word leaves your mind? Why does it always have to get so awkward? "You look like a turtle in your green blouse." Great start, one of the best ways to get to the heart of the girl you love, stupid me. After this, things got a little smoother, we sat together in the conference room, though the coordinators made us sit apart afterwards. The second day she walked in with an orange blouse, and she looked sublime. I spent most of my time with her, talking, grabbing her by the waist while we were walking, and the connection was there and it was real, the realest feeling I had gotten in years and I did not want to lose it. The proclamation of the results was the worst part, we ended up with nothing. She then walked up to me, hugged me, and we stood there, not uttering a word, and I knew from then on that there was nothing I would not do to protect this girl in my arms, nothing I would not do to make her feel loved, and it came to me that in the search of pride and a fading title, I had found myself a heart and a reason to carry on.

It was around six, and I was drowning in the highs of alcohol, no longer able to see clear, no longer able to stand straight. Then walked in my sun, with all the grace Euphrosyne, hair untied and flying around, a dress darker than the night and the smile of a countless stars shaming the moonlight. I was sobered up, just looking at her, she was magnificent. Was this real life or just a dream? She seemed like a fantasy, how could someone be so cruelly pretty? She was not the kind of cute normal people are, no, she was different, the kind of cute that made you want to cry and made your heart smile, the kind of cute you would walk the lengths of the world for. And that night, I turned to gold, for I kissed the sun, and it was divine.

Fight Back.

Moving on forward, stuck in the past, a heavy-loaded mind, a razor blade, electric cables, a turning fan, an open window post, I'll free myself tonight. White pages tainted with red apologies, it'll all be over too soon, just a relapse of my misery, the torment I had been through. Beloved everyone, I bid you all goodbye. Hung, gone, out of my body, finally free. So that was what it looked like to be dead, the burdensome weight had been lifted off, I felt free, light, happy. Gone were the struggles, tiresome revisions, frustrations, longing for something new and better,gone were the days of ranting and nights spent crying, gone were the hardships, all that was left was solace, serenity.

I sat there for a while, watching my lifeless body dangling from the ceiling,finally freed, relieved. It took me days, writing the proper suicide note, to prepare myself for this eventuality, to take away my own life. I sat there contemplating who I was, what I used to be, the life I used to live and how it was full of unspoken atrocities. The door knocked, the silence broke, Junior was calling for me, go away you fool, don't get in here. All the weightlessness I had felt soon turned to a dreadful remorse, utter apprehension- how would he take in this scene of his elder brother hanging off a ceiling? What had I done?

The door opened, in front of me stood my brother, tears running wild, mouth open wide, shaking, paralysed. My glowing soul started turning dark, the sadness and the guilt consuming me more than ever, tainting my luminescence. I ran up to Junior, wanting to hold him within my arms, wanting to dry his tears and console him, tell him it all was a nightmare and he soon would wake next to me, and we'd play catch all over again. The nightmare, I realised, began when my arms passed right through him, when I realised that even though I was stood in front of him, all he could ever see and all he would ever was the haunting scenery of his dead brother hanging from a ceiling. Moments later, he collapsed.

Never had I felt so helpless before, I tried to pick him up but I was no longer existent, flew down the stairs, screamed for help, begging, but I had forgotten that I was no longer existent. Why had I been so weak and given up on such precious people. Junior was on my bedroom floor, he was still breathing, but I knew that from that day onward, he would never be fully him, fully whole, I had killed a part of him, and no matter how much I tried, there was no going back, I was gone for good,for long.

About an hour later, Junior was finally noticed by my father, and so was I, increasing the murder count by one. Junior was woken up by my father, the two shared an anguishing silence at first, until my father walked up to me, rested his head on my feet and cried his heart out, screaming and asking himself why all the time. How could I? I was on the sideline, contemplating the aftermath of my death, a little brother died that day, a father died that day and so did a mother, the suicide of a boy led to the death of an entire family. When mother saw me, she sat down, immobile, not uttering a word, her eyes wide open, unable to comprehend what was going on, she was losing her mind, her beloved son gone.

The three of them sat down at a table that night,  my mother silent ever since she saw my corpse, my father and brother discussing about the possible reasons of my suicide, father blaming himself the while long, fighting the tears, putting on a resilient charade. Junior, he, thought it was all his fault, that it was because of his absence, his lack of support that I was gone. I stood on the sidelines again, watching, not being able to tell them that I was weak, it was all my fault, my stupidity. Father, I hoped I would buy you a car with my own salary, mother I wished I would lived longer to buy you some fancy jewelry, Junior, the plans of our houses side by side are in my drawers, please take a look at them. I hoped that I could've been there for you, through your hardships, set-up a business for you. Gone I am now, and sad are you all, dead I am now and dying are you all.

Mother, how I wish you would've fed me one last time, I wish I could've kicked a ball before I died, I wish I could've made things right. All I left behind, my legacy was a broken father, a partly dead brother and a mother who had lost her sanity. I thought suicide was the only way out to deal with my pain, to end all of the sufferings, but it was as if sitting in the pouring rain and expecting not to get drenched. It's not going well academically, financially or life seems hard for any reason, you feel like you won't make it out, don't worry breathe and fight back. This is not your life alone, you have a duty towards your family, and by killing yourself you kill them too.

Voices.

"I would like you to love me, to love me, to love me..."

Do you know this feeling; this feeling of just going out for a run past midnight along a dark alley, watching the stars all along, away from the city lights and sound, with soft music blessing your night? Do you feel acquainted with this feeling of utter freedom; like you really are free from all that bound you: all the commitment, the fears, the misery, the loneliness, the walls and the distance? It seems so nice you don't feel like going back and want to endlessly live with this freedom, with such ease.

"Our stories resembles that of nature's, the only difference being their silence against our words and resonance. So display your feelings, your thoughts, what lies deep within through stories of the stars and the moon, how the sun loved and how broken the clouds were, how the sea was harming and how the waves were stuck in an endless loop of self-destruction, how all clears out by the end of the days and how things fall perfectly into place as the light watery breeze you get on a hot sunny day. Write about them, those we admire from afar and make them picture us. Write about us." The smile that followed was the inspiration most writers would be dying for, a taste of countless stories, of dread, of love, of heartbreak, of deception and faith; an oasis, seemed real but you could never really understand what was there, the depths of which seemed infinite.

This voice it talks to me at midnight, tells me what I should be doing and how to get my life back on track, how to somewhat makes things right. These words, nature, our world, the love, the people around, the sadness that lingers around in the corners of their eyes, the beating of our hearts, the sounds of laughter and pure bliss, how hot tears feel, how real pain is and how cruel distance can be.

The clouds let go of the sky, leaving behind a clear blue mirror, something these underlings dreaded for. The soothing blue, undisturbed, remained for long an object of appreciation, of solace,of peace and serenity, a refuge for those who sought escapes routes from their flat addictions. The blue dulled out way too quick, the amazement died down and longing found its way in, filling in the hollow caves of every pair of eyes that sought the heights, a longing for the whites, grays and blacks to surface back, rejuvenating the sky, bringing more contrasts to the blue to rid it from its monotonous boredom, a longing for the clouds to melt back into the sky, for their union was divine, a delight for the eyes. Though sometimes there was way too much white covering up the blue and not letting it blossom, it soon realized that without that bit too much it would be meaningless and die, that remorse was in being separated and they had to stick together, it was what they were meant for, to complement the other.

What would we be without you in it? Before giving up on the other, take some time, think over things again and replay the moments in your eyes' mind. Do you really want to give up on that person? How will life be without them? If you can't find these answers, stay back for a little longer, try a little bit harder, some chances are worth the risks and the wait. We are all sailing paper boats in an ever-changing stream, looking out for our shores, our paths back to where we belong, somewhere where we need not fear the tides nor the submerging cracks. A single life is boring, a glimpse at my moon could prove this theory true.