I'm Literally Shivering Of The Cold Breeze Here But It's Also Making Me Feel Better For Some Reason From

Vikram from the coffee shop

I was new in town then, had not known what to do and where to go on a boring Sunday afternoon. I took my bike and went to the mall and the first shop that my eyes fell on was the book store. I went in brought “The Girl on the Train” by Paula Hawkins. Well, a lot of people had suggested that book to me and finally when my eyes fell on the book I couldn’t resist it. I brought the book and headed to CCD. I don’t know whether it was because of Sunday, or because everyone was bored, the coffee shop was crowded like never before. Thankfully I got a table for two, went in, sat down, ordered a cup of hot cappuccino and started reading the book. Just when I finished the third of fourth page, a guy came in and distracted me. I get very annoyed when someone disturbs me in the middle of reading. I looked up,

“Is this seat taken? The café is crowed and literally there is no other seat available so do you mind?“

A tall guy with great physique and just amazing eyes, a guy to whom you could never say no

“Sure, no one is going to come here”

“Thank you”

Well, I continued with my book and he got into his business. Surprisingly he too had a Paula Hawkins’ book in hand. “One Minute to Midnight” I was about to ask him whether he had read mine, when he noticed the book in my hand.

“That’s a good book, I very recently read that and trust me the suspense is good”

“Oh! I was about to ask you the same. Actually this is the first book of the author that I am trying and I have no idea how it’s going to be. I have heard great review about it from friends and so thought would give it a try.”

“Well, you won’t be disappointed, trust me. Even I started with that book of the author and this is my third. I just am not able to stop”

“That’s nice to know. Well if its reader certified then I am sure it would be worth it.”

In no time I realized that we had both closed our books which is quite unusual about me because I never stop reading and talk, otherwise I am very talkative but when I have books I just am absorbed in it. But this guy had a different charisma; he just made me do the unthinkable. We talked about a lot of stuff like books, other authors, how Indian authors have developed in the past few years, criticized a lot of authors and surprisingly both of us agreed on a lot of things. Normally my taste of books is bizarre, I don’t completely follow any author or genre, I just like to experiment new authors, genres and different styles. And when I say this to people everybody thinks I am weird but he was just like that. It was amazing to find a person like that. I had associated and connected to a complete stranger in no time.

We had talked for hours and after a long time I realized that I had to go. I did not want to leave him and go anywhere but I had to.

"It was great talking to you, but I have to go now, so see you again if possible”

“Oh yes even I need to be somewhere I just dint realize how time passed. It was great meeting you too.”

“Bye”

“Hey, I’m Vikram, by the way”

He extended his hand.

“I’m Razia” I replied and we both shook hands and parted our ways.

That was when I realized that we had talked for hours and dint even bothers to ask each other’s name. It’s been a year and a half now since this incident. Whenever I see that book I remember him, but even though I had been back to the coffee shop again a couple of times I dint meet him.

To be honest in a way it is good because maybe it won’t be the same if we meet again, because that one day that I had spent with him was wonderful. It was nice and I don’t want to ruin it with another meeting. Sometimes it’s just good with one meeting alone. If that person come back in your life and takes a permanent place it might not be the same.

Behind every sucessful man there is a woman, but behind every unsuccesful there are two.

the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” is actually not the full phrase it actually is “curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back” so don’t let anyone tell you not to be a curious little baby okay go and be interested in the world uwu

What I wouldn’t do for you

You were my kid once. You were the one I cared about the most once. You were my soul and my life. I don’t know when that changed and how it changed. I remember giving you all that was mine. Being partial towards everything you did. Knowing all your sins and still supporting you. I was your backbone and I was your system. I dint care about me, my things, or my life, for that matter. I wanted you to be in peace and have fun in life. From 15 I turned 35 for you and from 35 I turned you 15. I would have done anything for you, bring starts on earth, travel to Mars to give you a little alone time. I would have done anything you asked for, you demanded for. I dint care about how you asked. I would have and actually speaking I did.

But you started betraying me, using me, and above all took me for granted. You assumed that I was just for you and had nothing of my own. You dint even acknowledge my presence let alone my life. I would hear hours together about what you have to say, but when I open my mouth you disappear. I give you everything I have but you can’t even give me a small portion of your time. I would have given you my soul and my life, actually speaking I did.

If you had been loyal to me, I would have given you my life. I wouldn’t do any of this for you now. In fact I wouldn’t do anything for you now. And now by you I mean everybody. I wouldn’t do anything for anybody because I’m tired, sick and done doing it for you and everybody else. What I wouldn’t do for you? You ask me, well I wouldn’t do anything for you my dear, not just for you but for anybody, is all I say, to you and to everybody.

...

I have that one person in life to whom I can be me and still be confident that he wont judge.

Well thats what I believe everytime I meet that person.

That one person changes with time.

Sometimes it's you

And yet other times its him or her or her

Everytime I end up talking hours together

Not leaving the smallest detail of what happened in the day

I fear that he would get bored

That he would not feel anymore.

Today I could sence that he was getting tired of me being excited of the same thing again and again

Maybe I should stop because

Maybe I get too excited about petty things

But I thought he would understand that it means the world to me.

I never thought I would say this for him because till yesterday I had something else to tell.

Yet one more time people have proven that they cant be what they promise to be

And all those promises starts to flow with the rain leaving me all back to square 1.

Thinking what went wrong this time

Will used to love me when I got nothing but my aching soul.

Seeing the pain seeing the pleasure.

And I could fall or I could fly. Hanging on the words you say.

With you my dear I'm safe

Tell me why I can be there where you are

Its a paradise and it is a war zone

(Songs : "The moon song" "Pillow talk" "Show me the meaning" "Dive")

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

Why aren't we given time if it's difficult?

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

.

Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

And Why is that you can write only when you are in pain?

.

Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

.

Why is your time not at their time stamp?

.

Why can't people know we're all at a different pace

In our journey towards ease.

.

Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

.

Why do you want everyone to smile even beyond that pain.

.

Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

.

Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

.

Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

.

Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

.

You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

.

You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

.

It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

.

Let's put up a brave face is it?

I came home late and found Mike sitting on the couch very disturbed

Me : what happened Mike, you seem upset, everything fine at work..?

Mike : everything is fine at work, I just have to attend a wedding reception tonight, I just got a call.

Me : what's wrong in that? you tired?

Mike : no, Mary is getting married, remember.... my ex.?

Me : It's fine baby, since she is fine why do you worry..? Go, wish her and come back.

Mike : *sighs* ok, I'll go, can you come with me, please..?

*my phone rings*

Me : hello, yes, oh, how are you.?

what.?

Congratulations..... when..?

Today! I'll try

You won't believe this, Mark got married today and he just invited me for his reception, like now...!

Mike: what..? You're ex, Mark..? What a fucking coincidence..?

Me : I guess we both have to go and congratulate the couple, I wish I could have with you...

Mike : It's fine, get dressed.

We got dressed up and we both headed out, he took a cab and I took the car, I walk in to the reception hall and turn around to find Mike

Both of us were upset as shit. It was over, we could have not gone, but we had to, we had to tell them we moved on...

Mike : what the fuck, wait... really.

Yes our ex were getting married to each other, which means their ex got married to each other, which was fucking crazy. We dint invite them for our wedding, so they have no idea...

We walked up, posed for a pic, him next to her and me next to Mark. It was the worst situation I was in...

We walk out hand in hand...

Mary & Mark : that was my ex, deal done of inviting them to our wedding...

Now, more than us they were fucked up exactly on their wedding day...

The aspects of a long day

It's been a while since

We hung out together

Just the two of us.....

You and me...!

.

We have been on a break

The reason I despair to know

.

But there is something that happened in this break

I had been torn

I had been naive

A lot came

And a lot went by

And a lot happened.

.

It's the things I'm ashamed of

It's something I don't wanna talk about

.

I wish you had been there

To hold me back

From going all the wrong ways.

.

I want you to be there

To tell you all the aspects of the long day

.

I miss the feeling of being home.. I miss mommy and the comfort of being around her. I miss the two little brothers I have around whom I feel so responsible. I miss the food, the late night long talks about everyone I know and don't know in the distant family, I miss being so comfortable in a place though I can't be myself.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having a place called home.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss waking up to the aroma of coffee that's so delicious coz it's never the same elsewhere. I miss the chaos over what's for lunch and deciding on something silly yet so delicious.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to greet all the guests who come home, asking the same things over and over again, trying to remember how I know them, only to realize I have never met them.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss feeling needed, important and worthy somewhere at some point of time, my granny so proud of what I'm doing that she keeps boasting about it to someone I don't remember meeting, over the phone.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss having to wake up early coz it's the last day home as my train leaves that night to a city I call mine, having to go back mommy wants me to spend some time with her.

I miss the feeling of home.

I miss the clutter clatter in the kitchen, packing food for me for the night journey, and pickles and snacks to last the next six months. The confusion of what to take and what not to take, to decide between food and cloths in my luggage. I miss the questions my brothers ask as to why I need to leave early as I just came a week before, the constant nagging of when it'll all get over and I'll always be home. I miss the smell of home, the feeling of sitting in that couch and the aroma of that morning coffee.

I miss the feeling of home

I miss having a place called home

I miss the feeling of home.

I'm glad I got to read the script first before the world could..

https://youtu.be/dQsjAbZDx-4

I love this song. So one day I was thinking of the lyrics and saw potential for a short story. Here it goes:

On he went. The snow was hard to distinguish from his hair. The steps were exhausting, each one. But still, it was a special day. He was almost there. Crosses and more crosses. It was hard to find a specific one, since they all looked the same. But it wasn’t his first time. He knew the way.

There it was. The flowers of last year had disappeared. The dog tag was still there. Fernando. What a war freak. He asked for all of it. To be buried with soldiers. To have nothing but a wooden cross. For the tag to hang on it. But not for the visits. That was on him. But how could he not? The whole war, and the fact the he came out alive, he owned it to him. To his bravery. To the hero he was.

“Hello Fernando? Enjoying not going gray, you lucky bastard? Here, I brought you your favorite.”

As he said that, he put down a red label bottle. How many memories. How many times they had fought for the last shot of one of those. Youth well spent.

But there was more. There was the war. And no one, in the whole world, was as proud to have defended freedom as Fernando. He had convinced everyone he could to join. He had fought until his last breath. Still, at the end, he survived. His smile was probably the largest on the night they celebrated the victory. They had to go on with their ordinary lives, but Fernando was forever a soldier. He died speaking about the honor of being a soldier.

Yet, not one person would remember him as a Nazi killer, but as the most inspiring, amusing and friendly figure to ever live. Except for that one soldier friend, visiting his soldier grave, to pay him a friend honor.

“Do you remember that night Fernando? The fireworks, the drinks, the women? How did we enjoy being young, being heroes, even though we would never touch a rifle again. Guess that’s what it’s all about, Fernando. Having the one story to be told on the grave.”

He laughed, far too much for the state of his lungs, until he coughed. Blood.

“Oh, my Fernando. Looks like I’ll be joining you quite soon”