Acceptance

One thing we never stop looking for is acceptance.

Personally, all my life i have tried to please everyone, in order to be accepted by them. To be the one that they like the most. To be their Go To person. Many disapprove of people like this, accuse us of being pretentious. But I beg to differ. There is a very thin line between the two. Pretentious individuals act in a particular way, but mean something entirely different. Individuals looking for acceptance, behave in particular way, in order to fit into the environment. They are aware of the line that divides the two.

In order to be accepted, I have accepted others.... accepted the shortcomings, accepted that some things are going to be what they are going to be..

But I don't want to be a person who is so worried about what other people think of them that they don't really have any belief in themselves. Because in the end there is only one person I have to answer to, and that is me.

10 seconds

Step

Step,

One last step,

All his life he dreamed,

Dreamed of this step.

He reached the top

And lived the best

10 seconds of his life

Until a little bully ant,

Came crawling up,

and pushed him

Down the Victorious Steps.

Refugee

Running, hiding and narrowly escaping

He falls upon an empty mansion

Royally coloured,

Surrounded with drooping, unhappy plants

Food,

Food,FOOD,

Thats all he thought of.

His stomach

was digesting his intestines.

He lurched and searched, but,

Nothing, nothing remotely linked

to his craving.

The shelves congested with cobwebs,

Rats storming out of cupboards

A dusty ambiance.

And suddenly

a hopeful Light

Maybe a path to Heaven.

He heard noises, some voices again.

Voices that didn't sound friendly

Voices like guns

with no Mercy.

Cloud 9

I'm a dreamer, an exceedingly childish one some might say. My attention span is as bad as my dog's, Boo. Comical name, I know, but what matters is that he responds to it. Earlier I was quite embarrassed to publicise his name, but I've gotten over it now. Besides James Thurber did say that a dog's name should strike the ears of the dog and not it's neighbours. Urrghh!!! I'm digressing again, much like my Additional English teacher. Partly why I like her so much.

Anywho... during my Human Resource Management class, I couldn't restrain myself from tilting my head to the side and wondering what would happen after death. Was there really Heaven or Hell? If there was, like most of us, I hoped to go to heaven. And then it began....

I saw white coated doctors and nurses in red and green desperately trying to get me back, "Come on, don't let go don't go" said the doctor fearfully. But the piercing sound of the heart monitor, never failed to torturingly crush the spirits of the doctors when they lose a patient.

My soul rose, permanently leaving my body. At first I was a bit disoriented, but when I saw my cold inexpressive body, and the doctor and nurses gloomily remove their gloves looking down, and leaving the dark room silently not meeting each others gaze I knew what had happened.

At that very moment a yellow-white light shone brightly on my face, and then mysteriously retraced pulling me with it. It felt like I was on roller blades. The light guided me up the stairs of the hospital, and then miserly abandoned me at the door leading to the roof. Scared to move forward, I turned around. What? The stairs had disappeared, and there was an unfriendly gooey silver sheet in place of it. There was no going back.

I was hyperventilating, at least it felt like that.I hesitantly opened the door.I gasped. Was this the stairway to heaven? It was magical, like from a fairytale. Everything was glowing, a glow that was pleasant to the eyes. An illuminating white stairway with a glass railing, a gigantic rainbow beside the bright sun, and cute little birds like the ones in Tom and Jerry. The stairway started from a bluish green lake, which had several ducklings and a mother enthusiastically trying to teach them how to stand on their head, just like the ones in one of Oscar Wilde's story. I walked towards the stairway, I was anxious, but still thrilled. I took my first step. The stairway began to move. An escalator? I felt like one of the Jetsons' characters. The birds and butterflies flew by me and soon I saw the streets of heaven "plated gold" like Milton had said. Wow! This was, indeed the stairway to heaven.

And then I was pulled up by my teacher. She asked me to tell her what we did that class. On not being able to answer her question she gave me a topic for a presentation :(... that was totally unecessary. Oh well..... what the hell...... I was just waiting for my next HRM class. I hadn't finished exploring heaven.

C'est La Vie

I can't sleep. Its not that I have a serious problem. I just don't want to dream. Dreams are so misleading. They create hope. Hope can give you a reason to live, something or someone to look forward to, but when it turns around and the little hope inside fails you, well what can I say, it's painful. Hope creates illusions, of what you want, and of what you cannot have.

Ah well........ Such is life.

Blinds and Ceilings

Even though I don't see it, I can feel the the Chinese drapes across my windows breathing. They illuminate the room, making everything smile, but just when everything seems good they breathe out, contracting and blocking the little light that struggles it's way in, innocent as ever.

Life is a war. I'm not just talking about just the bloodshed created by countries,states and brides, but about every insignificant event that takes place in the world. Two dogs fighting for a bone; a bulb and tubelight trying to suck in all the electricity for themselves when the voltage is low; little breathless boys running their fastest just to cross that one thin red ribbon; a man struggling to open his sock drawer;or a gill-less fish battling for it's life.

Without this war-like life, life would be quite different, not to mention interminable. All dogs would have their very own chewy bones;the bulb and tubelight would always glow their brightest; the two little boys would cross the ribbon at the nick of time; the man would effortlessly get his socks; and as for the fish, it would never find itself in that situation.

If I had a choice of living in the unpredictable world or living in the Utopian one, I would, like most people, choose the unpredictable one. However, while staring up at my plain white ceiling, feeling the warmth of the sun come and go, I cannot stop picturing our lives in the Utopian world.

DEATH

He was a vegetable

Thats the word they used- a vegetable

No response, communication or movement

But still with a life

Breathing

because of a machine,the plant

without which

the vegetable will die

The next day the vegetable was plucked out

His life and soul was sucked out,

I felt abandoned and betrayed

The word the vegetable gave me

Was just another broken promise.

Memories

I close my eyes

But can still see memories falling apart

Memories that should have been forgotten

Still remain,

Memories of the overpowering warmth

Warmth that kept everything together

And now, only exists when we are secluded

The closeness has reduced

And now the memories are like

a dried pork sausage, Clearly

I am growing apprehensive

But the little "hope" inside me still remains