Do not think, for the mind is careless;
thoughtlessly inflicting drugged streams
of half consciousness. memories
on the carousel, wheeling rainy dreams.

Lose all touch with sanity,
there's no love for you,
Roaches fancy a flesh of vanity,
but scorpions ****** dry the blood.

She is perfect just the way she is,
but I will never be.
She has birthed a baby, his
green eyed, sweet chinned little girl.

You could say, Mind, do not be this way,
but you can not stop those thoughts-
Your own womb is barren and grey,
a weeded, thorny, fruitless void.

How rich is the night sky?
How comfortable this wind,
My heart, my flower
When you come near, the sunset is colorful

On the brick road, where I first met you full of mischief
Adorned in black bracelets, I turned away frowning
That moment, that precious moment
How beautiful, I miss our memories

All your secrets, I wish to slowly figure out
I want your heart, come to me
With wings, we can fly
Let's bathe in love's waterfall

A premature lamb lay in the pool of red,
her intestines and stomach spewn about, sputtering,
quivering, left on the ground as a sacrifice,
unworthy to be displayed on an alter.

At night she was *****, torn apart by
a Jackel, a Tiger, and a Snake
who chewed
but regurgitated her remains.

Believing death would soon come,
she lay, like a whisper
neither living nor dying,
only her brain left beating inside her.

Three days passed and she survived.
The gods refused to take her soul,
she was not worthy They said, hardly
notable and lacking in value for sacrifice.

she was from Cain's livestock, They said
she wasn't the fattest nor the healthiest.
Spotted, sickly, and skinny, unfortunatley born,
neither a blessing, nor a curse- insignificant to be either.

Abandoned, abused, and neglected in her first life
bullied everywhere she went, a mockery, except
as she glanced at her reflection in the stream, She saw
beauty and magic, and expected to blossom like an evening primrose.

she acquired religion, the only gift she received from her birth mother
she clutched the ideals and smiled despite her cross because of it
All of her ailments, her deformities, she bore
in Christ's name

In her next life, she tried to live forgetting the past, but it
pursued her like wild fire drawn to a black locust tree
she could not hide who she was, for she bore
the mark of Cain on her forehead, through no fault of her own.

A new chapter, she fell in love and was betrayed thrice.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake came,
upturning her life ferociously, mindlessly, recklessly, carelessly
but gone with the gust of wind.

she had nothing, but her will
until she lost that too.
she looked around the world and saw happiness
but none of it was hers, because she was nothing.

she dared not dream,
since Loki would, for sport,
create more illusions til she
could no longer discern the salt of reality.

after the storm, she opened her eyes and saw
her own blood splattered on the brown patch of a muddy forest.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake liked her smell. They chewed her flesh but could not digest it. They regurgitated her remains and left.

The gods did not accept her as a sacrifice,
they spat on her with water from the sky and closed their eyes.
her soul wished to part, water from her eyes wished to escape,
but she was not gifted enough to cry, nor blessed enough to die.

Not even the earth was willing to take her in.
her body did not decompose, but stayed there- not quite dead.
Passerbys poked at her with a long stick, but did not touch,
nor partake of the flesh, nor bury her.

Some simply walked around her, others walked on top,
A few deficated on her, but no one saw the life in her eyes,
nor the tears unable to be released, nor the hope
still daring to survive in the cells of her blood on the ground

In times gone by, there have existed people
who have made us churtle with laughter.
who drew us out of our shyness, from behind
the curtain and surreptitiously stole our smile.
we didn't love them for any purpose or conceit,
but we gave them significance.
we made Them
important,
while they were nothing before.
they lay in our arms, ate from our hands,
and when their stomachs were filled,
they left for more bountiful bosoms.

I miss something about you. Perhaps it is a special sparkle, and a smile that was only mine.

Lying naked under the covers of my bed, you reminisced a few months ago, that we had grown up together, from children into adulthood. But I had recognized the ambition in you from the beginning, that ruthless ambition that would one day take you away from me.

I feel a distance, as cold as the December air, but I am still not sure why your heart has chilled toward me.

One day, you will find a beautiful girl, and I will force the jealousy far away from my heart or hide it in some corner.

Since that crazy night I finally sent you 8 texts expressing my feelings, you've tried to do things right, but I must accept that I have lost you and your love. It's not you, my darling. It's not us. It's just fate works a little differently than we wished.

I know I shouldn't hate you, nor God, nor The Fates for ******* with me. I don't know why we were given each other, to be taken away from each other. I've always known I loved you as a person, there as never a doubt in my mind. I am not sure about this, but I think I fell in love with you, also. I'm not sure. I don't know what I am saying.

I know as well as you do that a marriage would never work out between us. I've always known it, but I hate you for saying it, as we both have different reasons for it.

I wish you weren't a man *****- a **** addict, and a super hot guy who considers first and foremost the external beauty of a woman. I fell for you because you used to like me for who I was inside.  I wish your life was harder, like mine, so you could value me as much as I value you. I wish you didn't have *** with those other girls or love anyone else. Part of me wants to lose my virginity, part of me doesn't. Part of me wants to lose it to you, part of me doesn't want to give you the pleasure of knowing that you were my first and only- when you don't love me anymore. You'd have my body for a night, but I'd lose my heart.

I was strongly attached to my ex, although I never loved him. I didn't trust him, and in the end he left me for the green eyed beauty I always knew he would leave me for. I didn't care about him, but I felt  betrayed because he was my best friend. Sometimes, I think he was a better man than you- because at least he recognized that I had a reason to be angry with him. When you hurt me, you treat me like I don't even matter unless you choose to let me matter.

I love you, I miss you already, and will always regrettably save a piece of my heart for you, and hope that some way, some how, my soul will be re-united with yours in a meaningful way. Maybe its because I am a lawyer and your a finance guy that makes us connected in an odd sort of way- even though we both don't quite get each other completely, we really liked each other.

I think its more than timing. I don't think we would be right for each other for other reasons. In my personal opinion, I am not good enough for you,and I never will be. My life isn't good enough for you, my family isn't as cool as yours, my friends aren't a fun as yours, and I am not as beautiful as you are. I wish I could keep up, but I can't. I hope we can enjoy the countdown of moments that we have with each other.

Goodbye, my love. I love you. I miss you. I will remember you.

I remember being a hormonal teenager, screaming at my mother, "I HATE YOU!"

The first time she let it go. Man, how that woman infuriated me. She was stubborn for no logical reason.

The next time I screamed it, she screamed back at me, "NO YOU DON'T!"

"YES I DO!"

"No you don't, you just think you do," she looked smug.

" I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!!!," I ran up the stairs fearing what she would do next.

"T- COME BACK DOWN HERE! TELL ME YOU DON'T HATE ME!"

"I HATE YOU!" Slam.

It is a rather funny story. The only girl raised among three boys, I was subject to torture from my three brothers and my mother. Nothing was fair. There were bad times in my childhood, and good times. Even though I was very talkative as a young person, I never would express my deepest feelings or pains to anyone. I kept silent about the things I had gone through, not even my own mother did I trust with my valuable information. They took me for granted, a bit. Once, when I couldn't take it any more I woke up in the middle of the night, and I stood on a roof, and seriously contemplated suicide for 20 minutes before heading back to sleep. I didn't have anything or anyone then, but I knew there was a world out there that was amazing. I had never experienced happiness from the outside world, and I was determined to experience it first.

I didn't know why I didn't have anyone to confide in. Why things had happened to me that I couldn't tell anyone. For the most part, I was known for speaking before thinking, and speaking a lot. But when it came to painful things, I never told a soul. I thought about it often, and still think about it today-- why don't I get it off my chest. But I still know why. No good can come from it. Only selfish temporary gain.

There were times as a teenager I cut my wrists or took speed or did stupid things to fit in. I wanted change, and I wanted it immediately. I wanted my life to be perfect. I never once doubted that something good wouldn't happen to me worth living for. I guess that is why I didn't cut deep enough, and why I never jumped off that roof. Although I was alone, I knew one day I wouldn't be.

It is strange to think almost ten years later, loved by many-- I still feel alone. I guess that is what they refer to as that complex we have as humans- partly that existentialist theory.

One day, I made a list of things I want to do before I die. I know I will never have guts to jump off a bridge no matter how many times I think about it-- because I always feel like there there is some hope left out there. I told myself, I am going to make this crazy list of things to do, and only after doing all these crazy things will I **** myself- if I determine that it is worth doing. I can always add new things to the list, or cross things off the list once I completed them-- but I can't take anything off the list until I've done it. What a fun game. I am deathly afraid of heights. I hate roller coasters. I am afraid of the dark, and I believe in ghosts. I am claustrophobic and afraid of being buried alive. On my list I have written among other things-- kiss a guy under the stars, make out in a graveyard, have pre-marital ***, try ****, smoke a cigar, get crazy drunk, go sky diving, learn to surf, learn belly dancing, get a black belt, ride the world's craziest roller coaster, learn a tribal dance in Africa, fast for a month with Jain monks, visit three countries from every continent, eat snake soup, eat crocodile meat (because I am scared of anything that can eat me!), visit the wall of China, graffiti, have a three some with two very hot guys, completely learn to let go for 24 hours and do anything I think about with no inhibitions, learn 2 new languages. I've already crossed off some of the things on this list!

It is a very fun list of things to do-- and some of these things I don't know if I could ever do-- like a three some, or eating snake soup! But, until I do everything on this list, I won't think about suicide. I figure if any of the above kills me-- that is up to fate, but at least I determined my own fate and took a risk before I died. Maybe I am a coward. Maybe I am pathetic and too scared to **** myself. You are right! It might be my Christian upbringing that says suicide is a mortal sin that will banish my soul forever. As I got older, I decided that the soul never dies-- so even if I end my body-- what if my soul passes off into another life with more suffering? It is better to use this body I have in this world and make the best use of it. No one else loves me the way I love myself. Not even my own mother can. I think that is why we are all self-centered and even think of committing suicide. We can't live inside our own head, and we want someone else to take our pain away. But we just have to learn to face life!

To Begin...
There are things I feel that I need to express. Channeling my emotions this way is something I haven't done in a long time. Sometimes, when you feel that no one else understands or cares enough to understand, this is a good place to start.

I am a young, complex, sophisticated woman at a critical junction in her life. I know inside that everything will be okay, no matter what happens. I know that I have to constantly and consistently strive to be better in everything that I do. I know that no one else can make my dreams come true. I am a strong, proud woman.

I wish, that I didn't have to be so strong.

I've learned that the journey matters more than the destination. My boyfriend first told me this about a semester ago, when things were better between us. He was talking about our exercising goals, but I applied it everywhere. I held fast to his words of wisdom, like golden nuggets shifted and separated from dirt that the tide washed in.

He's right, you know. The journey matters more, especially because most people never reach their attempted destination. Sometimes, we half-assedly try. Most of us are too lazy or preoccupied to become successful quite the way we want, although some of us learn to make a compromised form of success. But that is life, you never know what happens next. The moment you begin to think you have it, you lose it. The moment you realize you have nothing, you find something that is beautiful yet unexpected. That is how it started between me and my guy.

Let me begin with our story. I still remember the moment he walked into that second floor Union building, with a somewhat shy, half naive smirk on his face, clumsily trailing behind his best friend Roney. I might have been wearing a sleeveless black top with small pink flowers, but I am not sure anymore. He was wearing over-washed, light blue jeans, black and white converse sneakers, a yellow shirt depicting a marijuana plant, a brown leather wrist bracelet. He had that amused look on his face, as if he was getting paid to be there. From the moment he walked in that door, I decided not to like him.

That day, I was assigned to handle our first "desi" meeting by myself. We had decided to start this impromptu organization, and they all decided I should be President for the obvious reasons. I was everyone's friend, they respected me, and took my advice. In a way, though they were my peers, they saw me as an elder. Although I made immature decisions in my own life, they saw some sort of leader in me, and I could bring people together. I was well liked, pretty, somewhat popular at one point, talkative, and convincing. I used to have a sparkle in my eyes when I talked, and people easily fell in love with me. Somehow my relationship with my ex-boyfriend had drained me totally. I didn't believe anymore, in anything. For the first time in my life, I was unsure of anything and I felt lost.

I wasn't confident, but that day I had to put on a face and pretend I could command a group of unruly, uncooperative south-Asian desi kids. I felt like I was losing control. He walked into the room, and headed for straight for a group of girls, Pooja and Sweety. No luck. Next, he introduced himself to a group of high school Caucasian girls. Maybe a little bit more hope there. At that time, I was so infuriated that this strange newcomer could frustrate my attempts to control the already unruly group, by flirting in the middle of an info session! "Guys--Quiet!!!!!" I remember trying to get their attention.

He remembers this story somewhat similarly. "You were the diva *****, the queen bee, and all your drones fluttering around to do your ***** work," as soon as he says it his mischievous face breaks into a warm, doting smile, and he quickly kisses my forehead. "I'm kidding, Jaan. Well..." I stare up at him, thinking about getting mad, but I also begin to laugh. Amused, he gathers me into his arms and holds me for a minute.

At first, I tried to dislike him for the mere fact that he was PKI, because one had hurt me before. Then one day, that didn't matter anymore-- G was mine. Just when life had begun to lose its appeal, and I didn't know who I was anymore, he walked into my life and breathed freshness into me. We looked perfect, we were perfect together, and we brought out the best in each other.

A winter flashback, before he left for his studies. "T, I don't ever want to lose you.... You are so perfect." We are sitting in his basement, cuddling in a brown, ethnic shawl. There was snow on the ground, that had fallen on the ground previous nights ago. I had assed my last law school exam of my first semester at W, Hakes Property final, so that I could rush into his comforting arms. He always told me that I can succeed. I knew I was smart, but he told me that I had a great head on my shoulders, and I could do the impossible. And eventually I would learn to believe him.

While we slugged our shots of whiskey and whatever else he managed to dig up, and as his older brother drank alone upstairs, we hugged each other, fearing what would happen to us.

The time he first told me he was leaving replayed over and again in my mind. It was earlier that morning when we first woke up. He didn't want to tell me the first night. "Did you cheat on me?" I had asked him, knowing he didn't. "No, T, never to you I would do that. You mean too much to me." "Well, do you have cancer?" "I wish, that would be easier to deal with." "Are you leaving the country-- flying to Pakistan and living there?," I laughed as I asked that last question, because it was impossible. "Nooo," he laughed with me, looking down. We had this same conversation on the phone every night he called me. "Well?" I waited for an answer. "Jaan, I will tell you in the morning. Tonight, you are all mine, just have faith in me."

The next morning he kissed me awake and held on to me as the sun rose. "Tell me." Fifteen minutes later, I burst into tears. As water endlessly gushed from my eyes and I blew my nose into his shirt, he quietly held me tight. It was that moment, I realized how much he really meant to me, and I to him. My feelings shocked me, but it pleased and pleasantly surprised him. For a few minutes, he teared up too before regaining his manly composure. "Jaan, we can get through this. We are strong. Nothing can come between us, and definatley not this. Just think of it as study abroad." I nodded and blinked back tears as he held me tightly to his chest. We laid there for most of the day, before going downstairs to dramatically drown our cute sorrows in the empty calories of alcohol.

Sometimes I replay these moments in my head, wondering what happened between us. Doesn't he like me anymore the way he used to? What happened to my G, the one who made me feel so happy and free. I wonder why he doesn't call. I wonder why he doesn't respond to my texts, or think about me. I wonder why he doesn't want to know how my week went, and how he doesn't listen to me anymore.

I think about asking him. Then I remember my futile attempts over the past summer, and him telling me I care too much about the semantics of our relationship, and that I am being too dramatic. I know for a fact that I am not being dramatic, but I stay quiet because I don't want to chase him away. I know I am not like other women. I am strong. No other women can put up with my man, because they could never be as strong minded and confident as me. Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so strong.

...The beautiful dream I once saw, etched in silver, on a quiet beach fades away the faster I walk towards it. As I finally catch up to it and open my hand, I realize I am holding only to plain, brown sand. I wish I could just know. I wish I could ask him what he wanted, why he quietly slips away like sand slips through the cracks in one's fingers. What happened to the glittering silver dreams, that danced and teased me on the shoreline? I wonder if I had imagined it all along, but I know better. I know somehow, somewhere in the distance, in a parallel dimension, it exists-- my beautiful silver dream. I can almost reach my hand out, and just grab it-- but I can't see it.

I still care about him, more than he would ever know. I would do anything for him, and always be there for him. I want to know why he is emotionally distant, whether he still has feelings for me, or if he is trying to force feelings for me. He knows I am strong. He knows no matter how badly I hurt inside, I won't ever show it. I will hold my head up high, and smile as confidently as the day he met me. I wish he could know that he means the world to me. I wish he could tell me how he felt- even if it hurt me, I would prefer the truth. I wish he would have enough courage to talk to me.

I am afraid that if things go unsaid, one day we will never talk again. I want to grab him, shake him, and ask him, "Has everything changed for you, or should I leave?" I want him to know that I would never judge him, after all he will always be mine in a way. I want him to know that I can handle it, and whether as a good friend or an enchanting mystery that exists in a parallel dimension, I will always be in his life, if he wants me there.

I want him to know that if he doesn't want me in his life, I will quietly leave forever- like a dream once dreamt that never came true. Because I care about him -  for him I will be strong. I want to ask. But I am afraid to speak.