Un-synchronized Harmonies

There were 800 choices and two empty spaces. There were three choices two for me and one for them. There was one bag in front of me and a billion memories to pack. There was one of me or none, preferably. Life feels hard. Sorry for all the sadness around here.  Love (because it should be there somewhere), K

"Killing you is like killing myself. But, you know, I'm pretty tired of both of us." -Arthur Bannister, The Lady from Shanghai (1947) She was the perfect little girl. She thought she did everything right.  She didn't know how it had come to this. How all the little things had brought her to this. She couldn't believe it was over, even though she was the one who had said it. She believed that home was where the heart was. Home defines us. But what if home doesn't feel like home anymore? What if it stops welcoming you in? What if it stops being warm and fuzzy and home ? Everything was fine at home. Because it wasn't home anymore. So it didn't matter whether she stayed or left. She could offer them better space by leaving. So she left. But she never left home.

She stood there and reminisced about home. She thought of all the wonderful childhood memories associated to that big white house. She thought of running down the stairs every morning when she smelled the waffles in the kitchen. She thought of her mother laughing when her tiny frame knocked into her. She thought of her dad half-heartedly trying to berate her for running on the staircase with a small smile on his face.  She thought of the little swing on the porch. She thought of Auntie El telling her stories about her mom, sitting on that old swing. She thought of the pillar in the living room where daddy marked her height every year. She thought of her prom day when daddy almost cried taking a picture with her next to that pillar. She thought of the day she packed up her room. She thought of how strange the walls looked without ratty pictures from school stuck to them. She thought of the first time she came back home. She thought of how it had felt. " Miss, do you wi

As he stood there, he knew he had a choice to make. The choice that might just determine how it was going to be from here on, until the end. He knew she wanted him to stay. She wanted things to be the way it they had always been. Still, the more he thought about staying, the worse the possibility seemed. He knew staying would make him miserable. Yet, leaving would make her miserable. Decisions. Decisions. In the end, what's yours? what's mine? When they're all just not right It's been a really long time since I've been here. I had reasons but I can't seem to remember the excuses anymore. This post might be fiction for the post's sake but it isn't that far-fetched. They're not really he and she.  They're both me. It's been tough these last few months. Decisions waiting to be made and neither option heavy enough. Still, thanks for waiting on me, blog!  Distraught love but love all the same K

Sometimes I turn around to find a new place instead of home Sometimes I look back to see the little kids now all grown Sometimes I search and find old pictures all torn Sometimes I fall down and see all signs of me gone Maybe misery isn't all it's cracked up to be. Maybe it's loneliness.  Waiting on my promises. Still waiting. K.

Sometimes I feel my mask itching. It wants to come off, take some rest. It wants to breathe without me living through it. My face wants to feel the air. It wants to be seen for what it is without the mask. My eyes want to be seen in their real colour. Sometimes the mask comes off...just a little bit from the edges. Then they notice it. They notice the fraying corners. It feels their disdain. It sticks back on leaving its edges within my face. Sometimes it feels their love. It feels its own pride. My face cannot do without it then. Sometimes it feels their acceptance. It stays where it is. Yet with time, its begun to edge itself deeper. With every nod of acknowledgement and every sigh of disdain, it brings itself closer to my face. My face cannot breathe without it anymore.