I will…I wish…

i’m not a perfect person. there are many things i wish i didnt do
but i continue learning. i never meant to do those things to you.
and so i have to say before i go, that i just want you to know

i’ve found a reason for me, to change who i used to be
a reason to start over new, and the reason is you

i’m sorry that i hurt, its something i must live with everyday
and all the pain i put you through, i wish that i could take it all away
and be the one who catches all your tears, thats why i need you to hear

i’m not a perfect person, i never meant to do those things to you
and so i have to say before i go that i just want you to know

i’ve found a reason for me, to change who i used to be
a reason to start over new, and the reason is you
i’ve found a reason to show a side of me you didnt know
a reason for all that i do, and the reason is you – The Reason, Hoobastank

I will remember that I cried for her in the bathroom, with the shower open.

I will remember that I looked to the door everyday, until she entered the class room.

I will remember that I found her.

I will walk the streets with her memories.

I will remember that I wished her to walk by me, and listen to her stories.

I will remember to recollect every moment with her every morning.

I will cherish her memories like there is no tomorrow.

I wish to walk beside her sometimes.

I wish I was more perfect, smarter, sharper, intelligent, strong.

I wish I had a nicer face!

I wish I didn’t have ‘Super massive’ Love inside me.

I wish I could make a skydive.

I wish she didn’t turn her cellphone off.

I will remember we make choices to never look back.

I will remember that I AM IN LOVE!

 

Working Through Pain

Lt. James Gordon: [Batman's been bitten by Croc] Are you in pain?
Batman: I work through pain.

That was when Batman was attacked by some Killer Croc. Then came the episode ‘Working Through Pain’.

It is very powerful sensation!

Sarcasm @ 1am

For a few years I was building a subtle dream, looking after the tiny details,   giving some textures, colours, fragrances etc. I am no artist, but I felt like one while I was working on that dream.

No one can deny that a dream is bad. This dream of mine was mashed up with hope. It was a part of a net work of dreams, so intermingled that every detail was related to some other dream. I was convinced myself that working on this single dream would elevate the whole, with my soul tucked inside that net.

I never thought the net can break this easily.

Few hours ago, a piece of information came to me, which destroyed my years of work, failed my time working on that dream. It is not that it shattered because I didn’t make it strong, but the dream is found on the compliment of that particular information. It was somewhat like an anit-matter annihilation.

I pondered on the fact the I am an incompetent impaired specimen for Natural Selection

I don’t like regretting! Groping for the shards of that dream in the pitch black of night, it drove me to some mental NULL point, made me numb, unable of thoughts. I pondered on the fact the I am an incompetent impaired specimen for Natural Selection. I kept on copying the worse than ever Engineering Workshop Notebook, with insects getting all over my body, as there was the only light in the neighborhood. I was so numb I didn’t notice them at all. When I did notice, I just jerked the little guys off.

I am not sure if it is right, but I am trying to start a new dream to work on.

Cognitive claustrophilia

I, always dream, I like to dream, I watch my dreams like movies, I make my dreams, imagine events of the future, of a successful future. Ironically it seems that the actual extrapolated most probable events are far away from my imagined events. But I still imagine, imagine my desires fulfilled. I prefer to be inside the labyrinth of my dreams, the dreams that make me think of everything, “easy as pie”; the dreams that always say, “Do it tomorrow, why awake late at night?” There are also dreams that say, “You can do it, you are talented, where is your pride?, there are dreams that allow me to dream other dreams, paint many more illusions. And this is my habit. I like to stay inside the labyrinth of dreams.

Now, It’s late at night, I am awake. I will break the habit tonight.

Metaphor and the boy

 The photons getting diverted while going through the small droplets. The refraction casting translucent shadows below the droplet on the soft petal of the rose.

The red river flowing in high speed though the cylindrical locus casting strong pressure on the ground beneath and above it. Blood getting divided when the river breaks up into two.

The massive structure of calcium phosphate, with complexity moving in a periodic motion. The large induced oscillation pendulums helping it’s locomotion. The protiens over it acting like sheath holding the whole structure together. The boy running on naked feet on naked field.

He is trying to get a rose to his girlfriend. Every morning somebody picks up the roses before him. This day, he woke up early, just to get to the rose.

Tenacity & audacity

He was an average student. He had his secondary board exams. But he didn’t expect his result to be bad. He didn’t make a result good enough for science education in higher secondary. He was really sad. He searched for a school to get appoint him as a student of science in higher secondary. But no school was willing to do so. After a long search, he got his school. He started to study science in higher secondary. Two years passed away. He had his higher secondary exam. He got lower than 65%. He wanted to be a physics graduate. But whenever he asked someone to advice, about colleges, everyone frowned at him and said, “How can you think of yourself as a physics graduate, with this marks in higher secondary?” He was almost broken. What else he could do? No college would give him honors in Physics while he got such poor marks in higher secondary. One college did give him at last. He started to study physics.

When the result of the graduation was out, he stood second in the whole university. Now, he is doing some research on semiconductors in Germany.

I think he had a heavy dream, and I still don’t know his name.

-

He crash landed behind enemy line. His feet got shattered. He crawled through snow and ice, for eighteen days. He survived, and rescued by some villagers nearby. He stayed with the villagers a few days and fed by them he recovered a bit, but his feet got worse. After a few days, his fellow airmen took him from the villagers, sent him to Moscow for some better treatment. He was a fighter pilot.

Both his feet ware amputated. The doctor advised him to walk with wooden stumps. But how can he fly again with his wooden stumps? He broke. He didn’t even dared to write the news of his amputation to his lover. Would she be able to love him in such condition? But something made him stronger. He doggedly trained himself to walk again, he even learned to dance (can you imagine dancing with wooden feet). While everyone was assured that he won’t be able to fly and fight again, he went to the flight school to train himself. He became a pilot again. He truly belonged to the sky.

He was a soviet airman. His name is Alexei Petrovich Maresiev.

-

They both are very different men, and they are two among many, who define tencity and audacity.

 

Dream…

I was standing in the middle of nowhere. The farthest thing I could see was a few mountains. A bus was coming from far away. I waved my hands. It stopped. Somebody told me to come in. I got inside. Took a seat. I put my backpack on the small bunk. Then relaxed. Then I looked to my side, and…

It was she. She is here, sitting beside me. For years I hadn’t seen her, talked with her. Her memories got buried into my mind, but now here she is. I asked myself “What should I do?”. Many doubts were reverberating inside my mind. “Will she be able to recognize me after all these years?”, “Is this girl is really she?”. I had to call her, but what if she was some other woman. My heart started pounding. My shirt got drenched with sweat.

Suddenly her bag fell from her hand. I leaped to the opportunity, “here you are madam”, and she looked at me with great astonishment.

“You?”, she laughed.

As I was going to give her the bag I felt sleepy. I heard her sweet happy voice. My eyes were getting tired. I could still feel her voice fading. I realised that it was only a dream, being subconscious I tried to sleep again, to see her again, but the broken line of dream didn’t join. I lost her, again.