And stay down...

You again ? Come on give up, throw in the towel, even Ali would not be rumbling or dancing anymore.

This is not resolve, this is plain stupidity.

Is there even a point to this anymore?

What are you trying to prove here and to whom? Is this you showing off ? Are you trying to be the cool kid in the class ? This isn't high school anymore I hope you know that.

Those grim eyes freak me out man, smile a little and definitely try to live a bit.

I know that look, oh please carry on with some bull shit story about how you never cared about anything. You didn't choose the cool life, the cool life chose you.

Carry on, I might have forgotten a word about that story. Yes, I did roll my eyes at you.

You lack, what's the word i'm looking for ? Help me here? Ah yes, exactly, consistency.

I would classify you as a quitter. Oh come on don't make that sad face, I know a quitter when I see and you my friend are a class A quitter.

But hey, if you got to do something make sure you are good at it.

Did i hurt your feelings ? Oh please go ahead tell me how you are determined and this time it won't be the same.

If I got a dollar for every time you say ...

Five dollars is fucking right mate, and what's worse is you know it was 5 times.

Why bother.

Don't give me this Johnny Cash Mambo Jumbo - he had support who have fuck all - maybe me, but I ain't willing to move a limb to help you, for years I have seen you crash and burn and I don't want to be a part of it anymore.

Oh what are you going to do punch me again ? Remember what happened last time ? Did you at least feel better ? Go on give me your best shot.

Thought so. At least you have grown a little wiser.

Listen mate, I'm done watching you suffer. If you go ahead from here, its you against world. 

My advice ? Quit while you can, it's not in you anymore. And soon you won't be able to pick yourself.

Writer. Pffttt!! Stop kidding yourself. 

You were average at best and it's gotten worse and worse and worse. So give it a break, take your fingers off it and don't bother anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

That's it, good boy. Press the shiny button. 

Wasn't so difficult was it now ?

The 15 inch glass between them went blank. As he moved away, the man behind between the plastic and glass knew this wasn't the last of him he saw.

Some men don't know when to give up.

I'll throw it all away

" You knew me well enough - what did i want back then ? "

Meh.
Really ? Meh ? You do realise i'm seeking help - now how many times does that happen.
Get over yourself - the world does not revolve around you.
I'm the morning and the evening star my will shall be done, no come on seriously - i need a few answers
I don't have answers, also i'm not the one you should ask them for - its you always pretty much - you throw things away
Hahahahaha, really ? You think i make myself miserable on purpose ?
Well, not on purpose - maybe subconsciously or something like that
LOL! so you believe that i like to ruin my life
Yea pretty much - though ruin would be too strong a word - its more about drama you like drama.
Ups and down you mean *raised eyebrow*
Potato, Potaato. You proclaim that you get bored easily with people, groups etc. You do know thats not the truth.
Oh wise one tell me the truth :)
You are bored with your life and with who you are - you don't like who you are - you hate yourself.
Ouch ... so thats what you genuinely think I am
Sigh . I hope that one day you figure out that you are this as well. Anyway, i gtg mom's calling.
K thanks bye.

Log out.

What did she mean - I hate myself, she thought. Took a glance in a mirror and all she could see was self love - what was that word he thought, ah yes, narcissistic. Grabbed the white board marker and went up to mirror - slowly wrote in plain bold stencil like handwriting 'Narcissistic'. Better she thought and capped the marker back.

Plop she let herself fall, marker in hand lost in her thoughts. Hate myself. Hmm. Why.

Uncap marker - stretch left hand out. Unhappy with my life. "Paint" the index finger nail. Admire it the perfect layer of black marker on it. Paint rest of them. Helps in creativity she thought. Pick up the phone. Open the phone messenger - scroll through the names. Never mind. Too much of a hassle. Put it down. Feel alone. Alone. Finish nails, wry smile. Excellent. Opened phone again, think for a second and throw it away.

'Hey how art thee' the phone beeped.

Stare at the phone for a long time - how am I - think think about this do this logically and systematically. Flash a fake smile to the phone, convince the phone you aren't lying - good let the fakeness slip into your body, let it travel inch by inch to your fingertips.

'I'm awesome - how art thou ? ' the obsolete machine sent it back.

Type - lies - more lies - further lies - become comfortable with lies.

'Nice to know you are doing good'

'Cheers - later'

At least you stick to your reality when it comes to a certain things.

Life becomes mundane - you settle in a routine - you see things around you collapsing they don't bother you. Then you crave ups and downs - ah drama - you sly cheeky bastard you crave drama.

Whore. Attention seeking whore. Love seeking whore. Spotlight that's what is everything about, just being in the spotlight.

It is no pursuit of happiness - this is pursuit of self satisfaction.

A canvas with a gleaming fresh sheet - open the palette - brand new paints. She looks over it - takes out a pencil - makes a rough sketch all over the the white gleaming reflection of her.

The rough draft  - the word rough makes her snicker. Brushes away the locks falling on her face, few strands had green and orange specks in them. Mind in the gutter as a mentor would have told her. " Your problem is you can't think like normal person - be smart - don't waste your talent and for what it's worth get your mind out of the gutter."
"Frankly, can I be frank with you ?" - smirk
" Yes, as long as you wipe that smirk of yourself'"
Smirk disappeared " I like standing out and being different - what is the point of being conforming to something that everyone thinks work. Here is a lesson in literature for you - I want to take the road less traveled."
"You're a smart kid - make smart choice - this is not a lecture but a plea. May God's love be with you."

That line - May God's love be with you - stuck with her, resonated a chord and became a mantra. The cheeky smirk appeared again - uncap the marker - The mirror read 'May God's love be with you' as well.

From the corner she could see the half complete rather rough draft of her painting - the two reflections were on the opposite ends of the color palette. Rather than worrying her it made her smile. On her life. On her existence. Her mentor would be ashamed. She was ashamed. All the moving reflection was conforming.

Smart choice - eh ?

Small steps

Life should be a sine curve, not straight and boring, it should have it highs and lows makes it more worth living, he proclaimed while absently playing with his unkempt locks. Those around him gave the unkempt boy a look of utter be wilderness. You just did not say that, the pompous girl said while wagging her around. Hey listen, i don't want a boring life ever, but if that's what you want ... I guess it sucks to be you,he shrugged and ran a hand through them shining locks and walked away. What a weirdo, she bitched about him as he walked towards the football field. But he's so yummy, added the girl with cheeks that you just wanted to reach out and all. Puffy you slut get over him, he's not interested in anyone but himself. Argh, you guys I'm just saying ....

A genuine smile remained on his face as he flipped the pages of the album - it was only yesterday he thought. The hair flick was still the same, the locks gone replaced by messy spikes, it looked neat they said, he couldn't be least bothered. Puffy cheeks, she was just cute on the exterior or maybe he was an asshole. Like always he settled for the latter bit. Quick glance in the mirror, a smirk to himself - somethings never changed. Egotistical, self centered and self admiring asshole, perfect he thought maybe he should keep that as his about me on facebook. Had a small laugh at his own expense. Flicked the page.

Come here boy !! The number 16 jogged over to the sideline. Put it in the god damn zone, how difficult is it ? Let your wingers do the rest. The team is losing because of you, pick up your game and stop being so selfish. Like a mirror shattering, his confidence was reduced to finger cutting dust. Anger fueled him on, the knee aches and pains were forgotten. What followed was a blur, the man in a beard and 3 quarters weaved passed two of his team mates, his feet moving at the speed of light. Slow down, Observe, slowdown, observe. He squared him up, wait wait wait - slide. The man in the beard flew into the air, the numero 16 got up and charged to the other side with the ball at his feet, skipped past one, skipped past another he had a clear sight of the goal - switched the ball to his favored foot and before he could pull the trig someone pulled the ground from beneath his feet and tumbling he went to the ground. He got up dusted himself - the coach was barking some orders screaming delta freekick delta freekick, he picked the ball and told the captain its mine. Delta free kickkkkk! He turned to the coach and nodded and chuckled on the inside, like I would fucking know what delta is. 2 short steps, a swing of the boot, a poetic thud of the football connecting to human flesh and watch it curl into the net - he ran to his bench and slide in front of his coach and put his index finger on his lips.

The only private university to qualify for HEC, the voice of the announcer still remained fresh in his ears. His family on the field - brothers in arms willing to take a hit for him. Camaraderie beyond words. As they sipped on hot chocolate in a little cafe in their home town discussing their future, he and his main partner in crime on the field - number 8 - would fondly recall the glory days. They talked about everything and yet nothing, I guess it was a normal conversation between two men nay young adults. Life walked by them as they had the most productive hours of their last 6 months, the only movements involved their talking mouths and them lifting cups.

Both were doing their own thing now - corporate lifestyle and business environment was not conducive to being in contact but they were still each other's boy and nothing could change that. The train of thought was derailed by the elder and huger version of him - bearded face, heart of gold - hey runt he smiled crookedly as the other turned up from memories to face him. We are waiting for you to start dinner. The runt smiled and nodded, will be there in a minute. The huge him left, he tucked the album of memories - flicked his non existent locks, stepped in to flip flops and stepped out of his room. Trust us, the poster with two hammers screamed from the corner, as he turned off light. Trust us - the line he heard his most, disappointments most of them. The light escaping through the crack of the door was blocked - the room turned dark and the poster was lost in the darkness.

Lazily he walked to the dinner table, smile on his face. Not the usual omnipresent mask , human smile, human flesh. The flip flops still grazed the ground, the slouch was no there anymore. Corporate lifestyle. The proud mama looked at him and was glad to have him in her presence. Her eyes reflected love and care, her youngest - all independent and all mature - sharp, non slouchy and proper. The love poured into a smile, baitho beta. His presence had put the chatter to an end. He nodded politely, so what was everyone saying - he tried to resume the chatter. They all smiled back - happy, happy to have him existing in his life.

So the doctor said give him an ultrascopic.. the eldest went off on a roll dropping technical terms like everyone got them. They all nodded at the right moments, showed shock appropriately and made angry faces when required. He sat in the corner - just smiling and observing. The man of the house was pointing in the direction of 3 things and saying that. The elder him was trying to make sure that everyone was getting everyone and he was not getting annoyed, a tough task. The ladies were chatting oblivious to everything. He sat in a corner, observing - he felt it even if for 5 seconds - even if it fluttered away. He knew if just for 5 seconds what happiness was.

God hates us all

- The title is borrowed but apt -

He gasped for air, out of breathe - nay, his throat was choking something inside was giving up. The refresh button was clicked in the hope that somehow what he saw was not the truth. Quick gaze around, all of the rest were immersed in studies - ah yes the mid terms were around the corner. The one in the glasses looked at him and smiled - he politely nodded, stopped himself from breaking the laptop - no violence he thought. Shut the lid of the laptop and walked out of the room and walked into the other. Handed it back to her, looked at her - told her goodbye - resisted the urge to break her. Left, broke himself.

The smoke circle emerged from his mouth and grew bigger, she put her finger through it and destroyed it. A smile crept on her face, not the cute one he remembered but a rather devious one. He was over thinking this, but he did wonder that if the smoke circle resembled a heart ? His thoughts shrugged, in any case he didn't possess one so all was good , right ? As she disappeared into oblivion, the sinister smile stayed back. Oh cruella devil, what a game you played.

Besides her, what else do he like ? the question bounced off humongous white pillars. Sire, upon investigation we found out he doesn't like wine, replied back a meek voice. A huge stick pointed to a human body - so let his liver be, boomed the voice. What does he like ? friends ? - yes sire - shift him into a foreign country, new people new area and shred his confidence while you do that. Hehehe, snickered the meek voiced one, good plan he thought. Sire, I also found out that he dances a lot and loves to play football, proudly proclaims it to be his life. Take it away from him, take his life - the stick fell on a knee. The cracking of the knee was followed by laughter.

The ball rolled perfectly for him, he kicked it with his entire force - something odd happened, he heard an audible snap. Feeling started disappearing from his leg, he gave it quick rub while hobbling . The corner of his eye focused on the gleaming trophy. Fuck this and be a man, his conscience screamed, he limped for 2 seconds and then soldiered on. The feeling in his leg returned like blood rushing back in a sore area - the shining gleaming trophy was won, the cost for the victory was still unknown.

The cute lady smiled and spoke, walk towards with your knees bent. He oddly smiled, a fake one. She knew that too, he was scared. With his knees bent, he took a first step - searing pain, collapsed on the floor. The doctor tried to help him up, he shoved her to the side, pussy his conscience screamed. He staggered back up, tried it again and fell again. Stop please she said, you can't. Handed him a paper and said this is your bible, worship it for the next 20 days. The rest of the conversation is a blur - all he remembers is MRI - Operation - Meniscus - Football never. It ended on a pathetic note, all i want is to be able to play lady. She politely smiled and patted his shoulder.

They fenced, he would keep losing his technique and leaving open gaps but he didn't know when to quit. The majestic one kept on wining and laughing. The other refused to give up - no one could take his life away, or if you could he wasn't going out without a fight.

Digital world

The headphone popped out from his left ear, the speakers on the moving plethora of wishes boomed " Abawa bu tuglak- Doors closing."

He silently fixed the earphones, the world turned mute again. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the voice of Bono saying 'Sometimes you can't make it on your own', an ironic smile crept on his face. The annoying red light called to him again, he stuffed the bold one back in the holster. Resolve. Proud. Resolve. Proud. Resolve. Proud. The red sirens danced, seducing him with their curves and luscious locks, blowing kisses and winking to entice the young man. Resolve breaking.

Flicked open the holster, out came the bold one. Loathe. Self hate. Whats up. Loathe. In the metro goin to the mall, U? Self hate. Weak.

Angry, he put up a curtain in front of the red sirens. Oddly satisfied. The sirens took bono with them as well, a wise exchange ?

He looked up, yes a world did exist beyond that 3 inch screen. People without dps or pps but actual faces that had changing expressions and not duck pouts. Maybe he should initiate conversation with one of them he pondered-but what do you say to someone new? Hi whats up ? Hi kiya scene hai ? Whats the scene? Options, options too many options. No Walls, No Information, no mutual friends. Real people. Real conversations.

Pan from left to right, faces-different expressions different stories no text/status/130 characters to describe them. One thing ruled common through all of them, everyone was fixated on a screen from 8 inch to a touch 4 inch one. Heads bowed, not paying respect lost in their digital worlds as life passed them. Smiles on faces, hoping for a reaction for the technology known as an lcd.

He closed his eyes and imagined, no lcds, no walls, no statuses. He opened his eyes, the couple in front of them were chatting and not just lazily flicking through their phone and barely noticing each other. The guy reached out and fixed his lady's hair, gave her a sweet peck on the cheek, smiled, they seemed happy. The girl diagonally across had a book in her hand, she would occasionally look up and fix her glasses, the cover read " Bright Shiny Morning".

He approached her and sat down next to her, and started talking " Great author, great book". The girl looked up from her book " Ahan, you a fan ?" " A massive one, can't wait for the new one" " He is magical despite being a fraud" " He's a story teller a genuine one" the boy smiled. He extended his hand the name is Ralph, Ralph Witt" " Jennifer Philips, nice to meet you, rare to find Frey fans these days." The boy grinned. They chatted for a while till the plethora of dreams halted at the desired location, the boy took the girl's number and said he'd call her maybe they could grab a drink or something. The girl politely smiled. This wasn't hard he thought to himself.

Slightly happy with the small victory - he took his phone out and texted her " I am an Alcoholic. I am a drug Addict. I am a Criminal". He smiled at his cheekiness - and put the phone back. Beep beep.. beep beep.. " Lol. Creeper. You could have mentioned that before you took my number.""Dinner on me, tomorrow ? :)" "Hahahahha, usually people don't ask out someone after them that they are a junkie, a thief and an alcoholic, but what the hell - where are you taking me?" " You decide I suck with planning and i don't want to plan."

Shake it up

He stepped out of the bathroom, upper torso naked lower torso shrouded in a purple tower. The steam from the hot shower tried to follow him out and give his emergence into the room a whole WWE feeling. Fan chants and pyrotechnics were cut short by the door being shut and the steam hitting dead wood.

The mirror reflected a dashing young man with a chiseled body, he ruffled his hair - the long locks he had were no longer there. Eyes of the reflection met those of the man. Eyes, genuine surprised eyes. Lost. Lost. Alone. The reflection smiled,mocked and flicked his long hair. He punched it. Broken mirror. Bleeding knuckles. Shocked man, cracked reflection.

Bandaged hand did a full windsor tie. The smile on his face was gone. He buttoned his 3 piece and left the flat. The cute lady who lived opposite his flat was already there, and had punched the elevator button. She smiled at her, a lively genuine smile. He nodded. They didn't know each others name, they never bothered. The smile and nod was a daily weekday ritual. She was the cute lady, he was the broody man. The elevator opened. He motioned her to go first, "ladies first " said a cheeky kid with messy hair to his elder brother in his head, the voice became more distant as he stepped in. "Ping" beeped the elevator and the doors shut the faint memories.

Red digits kept ticking, he kept looking at himself. Still vain still ego centric, no something was slightly different. The eyes weren't just admiring, they were looking for something in the reflection. 29... 10... G. He stepped out motioned a taxi and went to work, looking sharp and corporate.

The black door stood in front of him as the taxi drove off, he buttoned his middle button put on his mask and stepped in. Blue screen, black chair, think , type , call, smile. Repeat. 8 pm, he stepped out, walked back. Borrowed songs, a newly bought blackberry, similar food. Had a chat with the person who served him food, similar nationality. He walked back, coke in hand. Walked among tall buildings, felt small. Was small.

Turned the key, sanctuary of peace awaited him. Laptop, him, semblance of friends and a book . He was agitated today, shut his laptop, changed in to bright yellow shorts. Stole a look in the mirror, he was there again-non bandaged hands taunting. Look away. Avoid conflict. Open door, step out. He grabbed a towel and scampered out. Stepped into the elevator pressed "S". "S for ... " a cheeky teenager smiled to an embarrassed girl. The memory was vivid this time he had to shake it off. "Ping" went the elevator as it touched the S floor. He climbed the stairs to be greeted by calm serenity of blue clarity-aqua. He took off his shirt, dove right in . Peace hit him. Relaxed. Not stressed. Free. Himself. No what was himself. Who was he. Not relaxed. Annoyed. He stepped out he was there again, smiling at him taunting looking at him from the calm of blue that provided him serenity. Veins pumped anger, his eyes narrowed. He stared at him for a while than spat at it and said 'jibe matere picku'. The smile of the other him turned into a smirk. Look and walk away. Better man ?

Or stay and fight. He turned,ran and dived headfirst into the blue. Shattering the other into a thousand tiny ripples. He smiled. He could do that. He could fight back, just like that. But there he was again, back with the smirk. Smiling up at him, matching his every stroke with his own. He went deeper, closer. Until an inch remained to separate them. He willed him to make a move. To leer him. To smirk again. To call the flames always just beneath the surface. The other did not even blink. If anything, he looked ...in pain. His muscles were tightening, his teeth clenching. He was looking more and more like who he really was. A shadow. A ghost. Paling by the second. A bubble escaped his mouth. One crawled out of his nose. And then the chest opened, unleashing the pearls of air trapped within.

It all happened at once. The shadow was flailing, blurring, fading. He had done it. He shut his eyes. For once and for all. Put an end to the smirks, the leers, the nagging the jibes. He could be in peace now. He could be happy. Then why was he suffocating? Was it not the shadow taking its last breath? Then why was his head lighter? Perhaps the loss of the shadow's weight. He opened his eyes. It all happened at once.

He burst the surface, panting. Gasping. A thousand needles piercing his belly, yet he was relieved. He looked around. Did the other make it? The mound on his shoulders was gaining its weight back. He looked around again. His labored breathing was subsiding. Silence. He started his swim back to the edge. With a smile on his face.

'Change' for my thoughts

I love Football. Its the only thing i am passionate about i guess. For me its the ultimate team game. Part of the reason i love it could be the fact that i don't mind bleeding, sweating and giving that extra inch for the team. But that is where the irony kicks in.

In reality i suck at being a team player, i like doing most of my things on my own and dare i say i love being by myself as well. I am proud at being a 'One Man Team'. When the day ends I'm only looking after one person that person being me.

Taking the ironies further, I love writing, but i'd never be too concern about grammar or following the ethics of writing. I guess that is the way i was raised up I had a lot around me to choose and to follow, clearly drawn lines that gave me 'options' to pick what was right what was wrong. Ironic, having options but not being able to choose.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming my parents or anyone in my family. This is not a me against the world type of post. Its more to do with the choices being limited and restricted in our society. What if i wanted to grow up as an artist or musician or video game designer. I know for a fact my parents would have backed me up, but the world would have snapped me. As a kid it becomes difficult taking on the world and telling them you dream of being a footballer or rock star not a banker or doctor or engineer. Enable them don't limit them a line my dad still repeats, for that line I am eternally grateful. Whenever the world tried to snap me in half, they were the castle who would guard me. They made me who I am, without them I would be nothing.

In short.
Thank you parents.