Disintegration

Your eyes had glazed over icy cool, more blue than warm. I always told myself you’re there, you’re in there, I know it and if only my arms were a little longer. I wanted to reach in, hold you, teach you how to love the way you taught me. You had forgotten your own lessons. When did you begin to run on this toxic combination of pain and oxygen. What happened to your fire? I wanted to rekindle your heat but your insides were too damp with uncried tears diluting your own wisdom.

I did not know of your new drills, that you choked on chords and your shower-songs had been washed away by pink-red water. That your damp pillow had taken over putting you to sleep every night, an affair I’d only trusted the stars with. That your pen met paper as seldom as your magic smile curved your lips. It’s so clear now, crystal clear, that you were never afraid of footpaths and heights and science lab root sections and apple seeds, but of yourself. Scars on your skin, scars in your heart.

Snapped wire, broken glass. You always used to say ‘shattered’ has a beautiful sound, only you stopped once its feel spiralled into your existence. I wish I had shown you how when you were 4, you played with a glass-painting kit and the broken pieces fascinated you because they were so pretty. I wish I had force-painted your wings with war paint before your knife decided they had to go. Why didn’t you let them grow.

I wish I could see you wave goodbye to airplanes once more, not caring for a second whether people were watching. And again. And again. So many shades of colour took flight when you left without a goodbye. What are the colours like, where you are now? Does your golden glitter heart see more than black and white again.

I remember you from when you left little surprise hearts in our notebooks and always sang the loudest as we blew out birthday candles and how you were more proud of us than we were of ourselves and how your soft chin quivered as you tried hard not to cry when we did. This is how I choose to remember you.
You taught me the science of time. Today could be my last tomorrow. Or anyone’s. And with this knowledge, I promise to learn to love living every day. For you.

Reasons To Stay Alive

Best friends. Paperclips. Post-its. Piano. To travel. Purple notebooks. To learn to play the violin. And the cello. Paper Valentine’s roses. The smell of vanilla. Stars. Sunlight. Sunrises. Sunsets. Clouds. Paperclip hearts. Rain. Music. Cats. Dogs. Math. Cheesecake. Strawberry cheesecake ice-cream. To ice-skate. Doughnuts. Krispy Kreme. Emails. Octopuses. Shooting stars. Blogs. The moon. The night. Peanut butter and banana milkshakes. Nutella crepes. New York City. Brown University. Paul Rudd. Matt Haig. Pool Jump. Trust Fall. Pancakes. Hiking. Drama. Tents. Mangoes. Summer. Loose tees. Black tees. Adam Sandler movies. Shoes. Listening. Lele Pons videos. The smell of laundry. The smell of ironed clothes. Drive-in cinema. Leg-haemoglobin. Bubble wrap. Plastic ruler rainbows. Thunder. Lightning. Dark nights. Lists. Petrichor. Dew drop sundaes. Camp. Karl von Frisch. Banana fritters. Bathrooms. Thermocol. Skipping stones. Perfect Day. Rare gems. To visit the Roseville Cemetery. Autumn colours. Cheese fondue and chocolate fondue. Tiles. Knees. Flyovers. Rubber bands. Sangria. Dawn. Hair getting in people’s way. Fairylights. Wooden flooring. Wedding rings. Wedding gowns. Arguments. Construction sites. Making notes. To set foot in Antarctica. The length of this post. Spanish accents. Yellowing newspaper articles. Shiny things. Polaroids. Ravioli. Pizza. 12 AM. Saying “It’s tomorrow”. Tea plantations. Exclamation marks! Tummies. Mumma’s sandwiches. Black ink. Lighthouses. Bubbles. Massages. Harry Potter. Cards. Neon lights. Birthdays. Letters. Kisses. Hugs. Movie-like hugs. Books. New books. Old books. Feeding animals in the zoo. Bathroom singing. Turtles. Holding hands. White sauce pasta. Mud. The smell of furniture. Packing. City lights. Brown paper packages. To drive an auto. Baking. Frisbees. Lab coats. Flight take-offs. Aeroplane views. Biscuit factories. Helicopters. Cruises. Bokeh effect. Straight collars. Capital letters. Gardening. Words. TV shows. To visit Bali again. Surfing. Tiger. Crushes. Peeling stickers off perfectly. To name my future dog Pig. Dreams. Ukuleles. The word negligible. Pebbles. Formaldehyde. Lullabies. To clean my cupboard. Puffed-up cheeks. Kiwi. Selfies. That church in Lyon. Ice-cream sandwiches. Visits from friends in the UK. Windows. Forehead kisses. Kinetic theory. Drawing on my back. Phone calls. Chopin. Sarees. Food at Indian weddings. School. Blurry photos. Mitochondria. Whining. Crying. Biomolecules. Last days. First days. Bridges. Castles. Analog watches. British accents. Reese Witherspoon. Emma Watson. Underwear in solid colours. Driving. The Northern Lights. South Korea. To meet Chris. Puerto Vallarta. Wives. Husbands. Secret admirers. Flames. Curly hair. Chocos. Diaries. Small bottles. Folding clothes. Dolls. To earn a license to cook pufferfish. Miniature things. Music boxes. Cheese frankies. Schubert’s Serenade. Bus rides. Hugs. Hugs. Snow. Oversized jackets. Warm fingers. Sweat. Sea shells. 10 rupee coins. Falling asleep to the sound of waves. Falling asleep. Swingsets. Spell bees. Head-pats. Pillows. Blankets. Lanterns. Docks. Umbrellas. Lame jokes. Tea with Parle-G. Needing to update this list multiple times. Margot Robbie. Ionic Equilibrium. Angels. Shoulder blades. Red velvet cupcakes. Hearts. Cake pops. Tiny tattoos. Twix. Sketches. Paint. Elastic collisions. m&ms. In the bathtub. Brown m&ms. Trophies. Medals. Smiles. Real smiles. Lip-biting smiles. Glass factories. Coconut ice-cream with roasted cashew nuts. In a coconut shell. 7. 13. Marbles. Monday mornings. College research. Views. Lakes. Disney. Walks. Parks. Footpaths. Cheese quesadillas. Magic. Chalk. Wax statues. Reflections. Mitosis slides. Socks. The blue dress from Cinderella. Poetry. Because the other option isn’t flexible. Pop Tarts. Giggles. Pollax pens. Puffcorn. Being right. Feeling loved. Scribbling over sigma symbols. Skipping. Romantic Era music. Quotes. Old sheet music. Bedsheets. Cycling. Colouring books. Baby photos. Sandcastles. Cream cheese frosting. Radha. Terraces. Ladders. Diwali. Otsukimi. Kyoto. Ramen. Maggi. Notebook shopping. Girls in shorts. Alex Turner. Elaine Bradley. Slide-making. Video games. Linguistics. China Cove. White wallabies. Subway cookies. Train tracks. Melting crayons. Laughing. Melted chocolate. Dark chocolate. Wristbones. Lemon lava cakes. Starry skies. Candlelight dinners. Love. Darkness. Light-ness. Bad things. Good things. A lot of things.