Caressing at first and then angrily cross with each other, they weave in and out of themselves. Struggling to sometimes meet passionately; at other times, part in pain. Tangled knots that know not what they want.
The cleansing of a life is never as easy as a gentle shampoo and blow-dry job at the nearby salon. Instead, it needs shears to wipe away the tears.
Some places are meant to be cherished for the memories they hold. Of a love missed, a new love discovered; years later, a flame kindled and then snuffed with a slap. Places like these are best left alone – for, even memories get all twisted and then tug at each other.
Some emotions should never be exhumed.
When words and feelings go awry, it’s not just the head that goes into a vertigo-like spin, trying in vain to pull away from the whirlpool-like vortex of a past one never knew but only nightmarishly imagined in fragments through the memories of a life interrupted.
Lead one life my friend, wear just the mask you were born with. Every other is an illusion, a mistress of our times.
(And watch the time they call ‘happy hours’. Sometimes they can be neither happy, nor ’ours.)
Cheers.
