Geetanjali Raj
We are both holding our cup of truth. As I took a sip from mine and you took from yours. I saw the fire burning in your eyes. Why you look so confident? What do you know that I don't?
I have learnt that two truths never exists in one soul.
Does mine say something too? It does not matter because I am holding the truth. One day that fire will burn out. But my truth will survive.
I am just waiting for your first move because I have played this game million times before: How do I want you to play?
Should I give you an easy way out? Should I block all your escape till you suffer in front of my eyes?
Why there is no defeat written on your face? I guess pride over humiliation. It won't hurt to know what fuel that fire of yours. Seeds, strange leaves and cotton candy is this the recipe for veracity.
Am I wrong to think that I have the freedom to think? Are we all puppets dancing for the amusement of the grandmaster?
Heard people define love before but never felt this high. Why does anyone want to come down? Everything feels more normal than normal things does.
It started from an innocent touch. One-touch that all it took to get the courage to swim in the infinite pool of heart-shaped bubbles. Love is so lovely like candy dipped in honey and coated with brown sugar.
I want to stay here with this feeling.
Heard people say everyone has one epic love story.
I know this is mine.
I don't know when late-night bleed into the early morning. I don't know when these vines crept onto my skin, as I stay here little longer I don't mind the pressure or pleasure.
Before this, everything was two-dimensional(angry and sad). I used to tell myself being a robot is so much easier than being lost in the curve of misery.
What do I do when my favourite colours are purple and green where it suppose to be pink and blue?
What do I do where this wild touch is the only thing that is making me feel alive?
Warning sign, they call these warning sign but what is love where there is no risk.
I am in love with poison ivy. There, I said it.
Why there are no movies about boring life or a mediocre life? Why movies have these same epic scenes kiss in the rain, shotgun fired, multiple stab wounds, wheeling of hospital beds, and last breath leaving from a body.
My story wouldn't have any of this cliche.
A pair of a comfortable chair on the balcony, there will be a sweet smell of morning coffee and a wallpaper view with unicorns made from cotton candy in the sky. The birds will be singing in the background and I will title my movie, life is beautiful.
Cut.
Scene 1, Take 2.
A pair of a comfortable chair on the balcony, I put a fresh cup of coffee right beside the knife on the coffee table. (Can somebody hide the knife? )
A pair of a comfortable chair on the balcony, I pick the cup of coffee with my bloody hand. The wallpaper view still has unicorns made of cotton candy in the sky. The birds are still singing in the background. The title will be, life is beautiful.
Cut.
Scene 1, Take 9152987...
A pair of a comfortable chair on the balcony. As I take a sip of truth and the coffee never tasted bitter. Now the wallpaper view has ripped from the edges while the birds are singing over-enthusiastically. And they are calling the song, life is beautiful.