Words are like the capsules of various sizes storing the time within them. Capsules which have the power to change the history, teach the present and serve as a memento to the future.
To me, words are the medicines, regular doses of which keeps the ailing being alive.
People often ask me why do I write or why most of the time I write such depressing stuff.
Whenever I hear this question, I tell myself that this is nothing new I have been asked, that I just have to unscramble the words out of the web resting in my head and tell them. Tell them the truth, whole and naked. So I begin churning my emotions and convert the foam formed on top of my mind into words. These words travel, leaving their humble abode, ready to go into the invisible carrier. And just when they are about to leave my mouth, they tumble and fall, broken into billion pieces. And I fall into a darkness. Blank.
I give a faint smile and a slight shrug to the person who asked me the question and then I go back to picking up those pieces. Those words which have died before they could even live and I am left behind clearing the ashes of their possibilities. Their remains always leave a sour taste in my mouth.
Frankly speaking, I have spent most of my life thinking of myself as a defect. Unable to connect to anyone, unable to tell them about the beautiful hurricane spinning in my head.
And trust me, that is the most cruel thing. The tragedy of thinking too much and being unable to say those thoughts, suffocate you and leave that same familiar sour taste in your mouth.
So, one night when the suffocation of loneliness and failure almost choked me to death, my body found a way to survive(like it always does). Before I even knew what was happening, my hands were pouring out the pain of the existence into the beautiful strings of pearls made of tears. That is when I started to write and fortunately have never stopped since then.
I don't feel sad to write, in fact I write to vent out my sadness.
Words are my coping mechanism. They are my soul, bones, muscles, blood and spirit flowing onto the paper.
Words are my bleeding heart.
