After years of trying (and mostly failing) to keep resolutions, I have come to the conclusion that the best thing is to not make any New Year's resolutions at all. That is the one resolution that I will keep.

Each year teaches us something new. Every year we laugh, cry, make mistakes, fall and pick ourselves up. This is how we grow. Each year is, therefore, beautiful in a way different from all the others. In 2019 I made some new friends and reconnected with old ones while certain people I had been close to, grew distant. But that is the nature of the caravan, comforting by its very inevitability. People come and go. I am thankful to everyone for all that they did for me and all that I learnt from them. Here's wishing you all a happy and peaceful 2020.

you loved me just as i loved you,

like i was made of silver and gold.

you never told me

that you were going,

you simply told me to close my eyes.

and still i could see you leave.

“What do you desire?” asked the Devil.

“Nothing,” I said. “I desire nothing.”

“Come now, yes you do. Every human does. Tell me, dear boy, what burning want do you have? What is it that you crave when you lie awake at night? What does your soul ache for?”

I shrugged.

“Is it love?”

“No.”

“Fame?”

“No.”

“Glory?”

“No.”

“A companion? I could whisk from the air the finest canine or the mightiest lion to stand beside you.”

I shook my head.

“Then what? There has to be something.”

“I told you. I don’t want anything. I am nothing. I can’t want anything”

“That’s not true. Everyone is something. Even the smallest of men is something. So, let me ask again. What, my dear, do you desire?”

I sat and thought for what felt like eons. The Devil sat and waited patiently.

“I think I’ve got it,” I told him.

“Tell me.” Flames danced across his charcoal eyes.

“I want to watch the world burn.”

It's the five minute rush before stats class and my feet run with a mind of their own. Out of habit, I dart into the starbucks across from the lecture hall. Making my way to the front of the line, I'm more worried about the starbucks closing before I reach the front rather than the TopHat attendance taking place in lecture.

And suddenly, before I can think or stop myself, I find myself blurting out your order.

Your stupid, white-girl starbucks order.

How many times had I teased you over the specific details your order required from the milk substitutions to the properly filtered light ice? I'd lost count.

But it didn't matter anymore.

The second the words are out of my mouth I can't take them back.

I want to so badly reverse time and request my regular carmel frappe.

But it's been too long since I've held one of those.

And naturally, I blame you.

I'd never admit it but your drink was always what I'd order because it actually tasted good. I know hearing those words would inflate your ego to no end but damn it feels good to admit to the universe that, despite all the teasing, you and I did have a connection. Maybe it was one that you didn't see or one that was simply a figment of my imagination.

But your stupid drink symbolized everything that I loved and hated about you.

And so now, as I stand at the back of the lecture hall, attention solely on my unsipped drink,

I only think of you.

How did I so quickly fuck this up? I'd only known you for a few weeks, pushing the definition of a month. But somehow I couldn't help but feel like you and I could've been friends.

Hell.

We had been friends.

But my stubborn attitude combined with your caring nature only led to this moment.

The coffee trickles down the sides of the drink and onto my hand. It's the coldness of the coffee and the slight tingling at the edge of my frozen fingers that make me realize that this is all that's left.

Me, the memory of you, and a half-spilled starbucks drink.

I was screaming, but words weren't coming out. I punched myself in the leg to distract myself from the overwhelming anger and sadness that was radiating out from me. The worst part was not even knowing why I was feeling this way.

Physical pain is terrible. It can leaving damage and worse for years. It can cause major issues and cause even worse suffering. However, it comes with an ending. It comes with a definition. You can see a effects of a heartattack. You can perform CPR on someone.

Emotional pain is worse because alot of the time the only cure is time. There is no way of knowing what someone is really going through because in many cases there are no physical signs of it. If someone is upset, they might cry but not know why or be able to explain themselves. There are no concrete diagnostics for emotional pain. You can't put a bandaid on it and let it heal up. There are no bloodtests for heartache. There is only pain and time. Hopefully support and healing will come.

Then comes another element of Emotional pain. There are people out there that proudly show off scars like some sort of war- wound. That is not the case with emotional scars. People don't usually proudly say they are alcoholics or are dealing with losing someone. There is a setiment out there that the shame of going to therapy is one of the greatest threats to people's health. People do not seek out therapy because of a fear of what people will say or if it will negatively affect their lives.

People are ashamed to be broken and that is not ok.

Physical scars heal. Emotional demons are forever.

#therapyhelps #streamofconscious #prose #writing #challenge

She was starting to have doubts in her relationship with Alastair. She loved him despite of the fact that he was mentally unstable and that his life had been spent mostly in the hospital's psychology department. She was a psychologist and lately her friends have started calling her a 'Psycho' because they all thought he was trying to dupe her into getting him out of the mental prison and she was readily being a bait.

She went to the hospital and the first thing she did was to read the newspaper. That day she saw something in the newspaper that made her run down the corridor, she hastily asked her assistants to bring Alastair in the experiment room. It was all lit up. On being asked that why was she doing this, she replied, "There's this new research that says our pupils dilate when we lie." They both simply listened to her and took him in the room with the brightest of lights. His pupil will naturally contract in light and if he lies it will dilate even in those lights - this was her plan.

Alastair was a calm man. Yes, he was unstable but not mad. He had sense, it was just sometimes he would go out of control. Sometimes. He looked very normal and behaved the same but he had some disorders that might ignite into self destruction provided the unfortunate circumstances come into play. He had blue eyes. Was it just the iris or the grief that painted his eyes?

He was seated in the room and one of the assistant asked him many questions. She was standing outside and could see his back. His eyes were contracted in all his answers. The last question, "Do you love Miss. Mia?"

He said yes but his eyes,they showed denial. They dilated.

The assistants came to her and reported what they saw. She left the hospital in tears. The tears looked blue. For some days she didn't go to work and when she did, she didn't met Alastair. He broke her and therefore she broke up with him. Months passed and Alastair's health started to detroit, he didn't knew what went wrong. One day he was taken to the same experiment room again, everything was going well until his eyes poured all the grief on him and he drowned. He couldn't breath in the sorrow anymore and then he took the nearest instrument and within a second... the sharp instrument lulled his blood to sleep on the glass walls. He fell down. Slow and shallow breaths were not enough to sail him through the waves to the shore. Mia got to know about this and she hurried to that place. She saw him but he didn't, she was puzzled at the dilemma that who wronged who. She was close to him and when she couldn't stand the sight, she looked away at the wall.

There their eyes met.

There their eyes met. For the last time.

At the glass wall.

Time passed and as usual she went to the hospital and read the newspaper. Except for remembering the love and betrayal of Alastair, everything was same until one day she read the

- RESEARCHES AND INVENTIONS column in the newspaper as usual but the first research said, " Researchers have found multiple reasons for the dilation of eyes. Fear, Deception, Lying and seeing a loved one can dilate ones eyes......."

She couldn't believe her eyes, she ran to her assistant and asked, " Where is the footage of the day when you questioned Alastair?!? I want it right now!!"

She played it, praying she does not see what her mind is saying to her.

In the footage, Alastair was constantly looking at the clock in the front but when the last question was asked, his sight shifted on the wall. He was looking at her reflection on the wall.

At the glass wall.

- Adin

21 October 2019

The worst type of pain is all the “almost”s in life.

She almost loved me back.

He almost made it out of the ER.

They almost decided their relationship was worth it.

Maybe you were almost enough. If she had called more, or maybe you had answered faster, or you guys had spent more time talking than thinking about each, you almost could have been each other's half.

If she had reacted faster or answered faster, he could have almost made it out. If he hadn't been ignored and dismissed by everyone around him, he could have stayed and things could have almost been different.

It’s physical as much as mental. It circles in your head, following you and everytime you hear their favourite song or see someone who looks just slightly too much like them, you can’t help but get butterflies or lose your energy to sing along. Nights spent crying over something you can’t even hold or capture is just as painful as losing a tangible object. Except, soon it won’t exist anywhere but in your memories. Because you almost could have avoided this situation, but you also know you wouldn’t have chosen anything else because of the wonderful and irreplaceable part of the almost. All the heartbreak and sadness and loss comes hand in had with it. There isn’t a choice. Yet, you almost, almost could’ve avoided it. Almost.

Sweet little spider

Stares at me

With eight little eyes

Sweet little spider

Eight legs

Hairy and long

Crawling

You spin your web

weaving and waiting

sit there

waiting to catch whatever flies in

oh sweet little spider

your sharp little pincers

sink into your prey

Sweet little spider

Oh how i fear thou