all this wasted longing...

You Who Never Arrived

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start, I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me - the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected
turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods --
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house -- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon, --
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled,
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…
                                       -Rainer Maria Rilke

I wonder if you will still arrive, if you are out there; I hope you are...

how we didn't die, we just never had a chance to bloom

Whatever it was that I wanted us to be, what I wanted me to be for him, whatever it was that I deluded myself into thinking we were meant to be, never was. I knew that when I met him two years ago, but I kept on fooling myself by clinging to the tiniest bit of hope, despite appearances, despite actions that negated that hope.

Love, romantic love has always been difficult for me. W says we have, the two of us what she calls, the Sisyphus complex, falling for people we can't have, unattainable due to circumstances beyond our control. Maybe that's the reason why I clung so much to that hope, because despite everything, I really believed that I had a chance this time around. I guess I was wrong.

chocolate makes me happy...

I turned 32 today, and for once I will not whine about how direction-less I feel my life is but instead be thankful for everything that I have. I am grateful that I belong to the family I belong to, that I have a wonderful relationship with my parents ( only my mom now since daddy's gone) and my sisters. That I have an interesting enough job, two in fact that challenge my mind in different ways, I whine and complain about both a lot of times, but I am luckier than most, one job allows me to travel and learn while the other allows me to flex my writing muscles so I can not complain really. I have great friends who tolerate my moods and my lectures and my rantings. And I have my books that keep me occupied along with the fact that my favorite show of all time, The X-Files, is currently running on television five days a week. Life is good really.