A photograph of them.

​Photographs, specially of people. They hold in not just pixels. They hold in a lot more, a lot more, that it could actually bring you alive. It can make your heart sink, or beat faster, or smoother.

Photographs, a power you’re holding, a weakness you’re grasping on to.

I recently held a photograph in my hand, of an unknown person. A complete stranger. But I held that photograph for long, quite long to picture it inside my head, to make it nearly impossible to erase. I didn’t know who that stranger was, nor I still know. But somehow, I felt I wish I knew them. A face with a soft smile, warm eyes. Looking at me, right on my face, making me fall in love. And all after that, they became a part of my life, the source of my happiness, a huge part of me itself. How, I don’t know. Strange, weird, yes could be.

A photograph held so much power in itself, and so much life, that its absence actually had an affect on me. The first and the last thing of my day, yes that photograph. The photograph was the same every time, the person was the same. The smile, the eyes, the location was just the same. Even the feeling of looking at it, just the same. 

And unknowingly, that person, who’s photograph lived in me, I’d wish they’d lived with me too. 

I don’t know how, I don’t know why, all I know is that that photograph is more than just a photograph to me. A rare kind of love, the love I’d fallen in with that photograph. With that stranger.

Home, a shelter?

​I woke up, after having, what you say, an uneasy sleep. I woke up to feel something very different, to be asleep in somewhere very unknown to me. But, this place, where I was asleep, where I woke up, was too known to me. Too known to me than for any other place. Similar floors, similar walls, similar mirrors. No, wait. It wasn’t similar, it was exactly the same. Same floors, same walls, same mirrors. Yet, there was something, something very not-the-same. So, I got up to make sure I was in my room, and not somewhere else. I looked around, it was my room. I saw it, I saw it very clearly. I just didn’t feel it. I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I heard similar footsteps, I saw the same faces. Same faces, but different intentions? Maybe, could be, would be. I got up on my feet, and walked towards the kitchen, water deprived, or just curios to discover the feeling. Voices around me spoke, as I said similar voices, but I ignored them all and kept walking. Not shocked, the glass looked the same, the water tasted the same too. Everything was same, yet everything was so different. So same, so different. I walked back t my room, sat on my bed, touched myself, felt myself, spoke to myself. It was calm, a different sort of calm. A sad one. It was as if I was telling myself that this isn’t where I’ve been living. This is where I’ve been living, but this just isn’t where I’ve been living. I felt my heart sink in, its all crying to me telling, your home isn’t your home anymore. This, where I am, is surely my house, but it isn’t my home. Same people, different intentions, isn’t it? Like a lost person, I felt homesick. But, where does a person go to in the end, when his home isn’t a home anymore?

Yes, me.

​Not scared of darker nights anymore

Cause in the day too, the thoughts knock the door

Not black, nor white, my days have turned grey

Oh, what a lovely game my life chooses to play
I see no ghosts, I see no paranormal

All I see is completely for real

I see emptiness, its slowly filling inside

I see a soul, having a place to hide
I felt no pain, not for once

Now I have it all, all in abundance

Happy at times, just at times

Tuned like the lyrics, of the wind chimes
I feel impure, I feel dirty

Of all the pain of betrayal on my bare body

No love within, to cleanse myself

Just a poor soul, craving to love itself
Lost every love, nothing left to lose

I love you? Such a painful bruise

My heart has voids, deep and painful

My life seems to be just non purposeful
People knock the door, or they just slam

Just friends? Why not even the fam?

I sink within, no one really knows

Y’all causing me pain, are making my eyes close

I’m no plastic, I feel no nothing

Just a little depressed, unwilling to wake up for the morning

Trust

​Broken trust. It is like a cracked mirror, or the broken mirror itself. And yet the mirror seems like its been stabbed by bullets of dishonesty. The bullet stabbed does not break the mirror wholely, but surely creates a deep wound with cracks all around. And when the mirror can’t withstand so many bullets, it finally breaks. That’s how trust is broken. Its never broken all at once. Never. If it did, it wasn’t ever a trust. Because once the trust is stabbed, without a doubt it bleeds away. Yet, it doesn’t bleed completely. There is still life in that trust. A little lesser than before, but there still is. But of course, even a doctor cannot save a man whose been stabbed multiple times. And so, the trust dies eventually, with pain, with sufferings.

Trust isn’t always about being honest, and breaking the trust isn’t always about lying. Once someone does something to you, or maybe even twice, you feel they will repeat it again, and again, and always. And that’s where the trust is being drained out. Lying, cheating, betraying, walking away, and a lot more kinds. Trust being broken can be very painful, if you are the one who trusted.

Bad person. What?

​Are there bad humans in this world? Do they really exist? How do they exist? How do we call a human “bad”? Of course, we judge. We judge on the basis of our standardized principles or rules we’ve set, not just for ourselves, but for other humans whom we have no right on anyway.

But, even if humans are actually bad, why don’t they become good humans? Do they know they’re bad, or they just live along how they want to? How do they feel, and what do they feel being a bad human? How is their life, a good one? Are their intentions good on the inside or really bad as its said and seen? Are they aware of themselves, that they’re thee bad humans?

Among all these questions, there’s one question beating along my heart. Am I too a bad person, just unaware of it?