Part 3 - Extracts from the book I'll never write

One day I was sitting by the window, watching the world go by , watching, watching, just watching until my eye lids were heavy with tears , and when twilight came and the light hit the mirror and it darted to the other side of the room splitting and divided into its beautiful spectrum. My heart beat was caught by this beauty , and I watched it till the sun went down, and with it took all its light , but a glimer , a sparkle was left behind  and I held onto it and let it light a tiny candle in the darkness. I was astounded by the warmth it carried , and began musing to myself and danced around , then came across the mirror again , and I stood there for a while. Studying my feature,  half of which hidden in the shadows. I looked into my eye studying it's details, the curved and  unrippled eye lashes. The iris spread out wide like a wild flower darting , and I moves my fingers  against my lips they were  warm , moist ,  delicate soft. I lay my hand on the mirror and kissed it with my lips , to feel myself. My hands these fingers were stained with ink , and written words , and they were ingrained on my body as well. Words , phrases , and then I  wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders and went around musing again , and began to sing a tune for myself, and continued because I wanted to listen to the sound of my voice and enjoy its tones and texture. As I mused around moving my body around like a willow flying in the wind , and then lay down on the floor and listened to the silence of the night , listening to myself breath , feeling my heart beat for me. Then began dreaming of deep crimson red roses blooming in pale darkness , as the moon outside shone it's silver light  fell over my body through the window , inscribing it's nightly secrets into me, as I breath curled and vulnerable, the silver birds and butterflies came in through the window guided by the moons desires. They flew and sang around me and weaved a symphony of love for me in the air and convered me in that blanket , and I slept there till dawn decided to break and gently urged me to wake up.

Part 2 - Extracts from the book I'll never write

The cold breeze kissed my cheeks and I realise as I stood alone  at the border of my reality  telling myself that letting go is really easy but when you decide and console yourself that let it be. Time starts slowing down in between those frantic heartbeats , it's hard , it's hard to tell yourself that maybe you're giving up or maybe you were selling yourself the idea that things would be better if it was done the other way and all the while losing yourself , not in a battle but in a labyrinth you cannot understand. I look at the clouds gathering above in the sky , turning the blissful blooming sky into a distorted imperfections of dark grey heavy inky clouds. It's okay.  The wind begins howling across the streets , echoing melancholy symphony from my heartstrings , it's okay. The tear drop hits the ground first and then the rain. I step outside the accustomed shelter into the storm. Then I realise it's actually okay to give up once in a while. As I let the cold precipitation curl down my back, trying to keep my eyes open to see where I'm walking , occasionally guided by the lightning . All the pigments of artificial expectations shedding from my bare self and dripping down my chin. A strange energy begins to exhilarate me and I'm mad with joy , the thunder in response replicates my emotions . Still walking down the stormy night my neat dress  hugging my skin .  I shed everything  and now I'm free  from the fear of expectations , because it matters that no one came chasing after me in the storm.  

Part 1-Extracts from the book that I will never write

It’s true , everything appears beautiful and divine from afar. The exterior seems neat and glossy , and that’s what makes us gravitate towards each other. Why don’t we all go closer ,observe the fine cracked lines below fake smiles which tell stories , stories which cannot be told by words . No were not each other’s  mysteries to be solved , not metaphors  so why are we  getting stuck in the labyrinths of self assumption , I guess we should believe our instincts. If you think one person can show you how dawn rises and how dusk falls merely by their eyes , why don’t you watch the sunrise and sunset by yourself and realise that everything around you is blind poetry. We’re all the same both inside and outside. We’re all very unique and special for ourselves ,but everyone thinks that , so what sets you apart ? So who are you when everyone’s outer coat is warm and glossy. No one would like to it to be less glossy and each if us holds the a brush to polish their reputation. We’re all the same inside and outside. We’re made of the same flesh , blood , bones and the same kind of sufferings. We’re made of the same questions, same sacrifice, same confusions  ,same stardust and we all are the same blown out candles, we’re all defeated at some point or the other in the same damn way. What sets us apart are ways we search for from beneath our ashs and graves we have dug out for ourselves , while still alive ,because reaching out for help or accepting help isn’t foolish. Accepting we were wrong sets us apart. In the end we’re all memories  , stories  , what sets us apart is about how we shed our blood ,sweat and tears.