#crumpledpages

You know you have lived, When the smallest things matter;

I Have The Ear The one which hears all your complaints The one which accepts all your rants The one which which takes in all your sorrows, all your anger I hear for you. Only for you, just for a good cause. I know that you always have those words boiling inside you and no one wants to hear them. I know, that you feel utterly ignored when you try to tell your problems to others. I know how you it makes you suffer more when you deduct that no one really gives a damn. No one will care a single dime how you feel and why. But. Except me. I do. I care about the roiling mess you contain within your shell. When you tell me about your day, or your 'once upon a time', your 'ifs' and your 'buts' I will sit up straight and my Ear will take in everything you say. I will Listen. You will never realise the difference. It will be the same as speaking aloud to yourself or the way you orate your bedroom/bathroom mirror. Because you will only find me Listening. I won't ever ask a single question, because I won't be curious about anything you will leave out of your words. Because I know there must be a reason and accept whatever you let me have. Because I can. I Listen, don't speak. But somedays I find myself with my shoulders slack, hanging. I find myself fighting something which is beneath my skin, deep inside me. And sometimes they look like words and stories, almost similar to yours. I start thinking whether I can contain your treasures. And suddenly I realise the turmoil inside me isn't what you gave me. It is mine, my own words. I feel terribly surprised, I could only Listen... after all. Slowly, I discover that I have my own complaints, anger, problems and crazy rants. About everything from work to hobbies, from friends to family, and so on. And they are nothing like yours, these burdens were mine. I know these should be let out, just like you and others did. But I was the Listener, how could I have been the Speaker? I spoke to myself and my mirror, but all those words simply bounced back from the inanimate and re-entered me. I needed another 'me' who could Listen. Years later, I found another Listener. That Listener was almost as much of a Listener as I was, though less, but a mercy. And then when I spoke.... I couldn't. Strangely, words had become the parts of my soul. It makes me worry if I have learned to consume words, not only yours and of the others.... but even the ones which were mine;

Ugh! Couldn't we, like, have a simple life for once? Okay.... maybe we are supposed to be superheroes... only fighting our personal monsters...;

*They Say They Are Broken* Just another day of fighting through when I sense a ping in my phone. A story post… snap of a dude’s heavily bandaged forearm, captioned “you wanted me to do this? There. Nd I’m ready to do more… can’t live without u…” Another jerk post-breakup, the girl must’ve moved on for better. I gulp down my bitter rage and message out- “Wht the f* is this?!” “This is myself.” “Bat shit crazy or wht?” “😔” “You meet me tmoro…. seriously gonna lecture you till you fall asleep or unconscious” “😭😭😭… can’t talk now. I’m broken” “No. You don’t know broken.” _____________________________ No… you don’t know broken. You think you’re broken because of your breakup? Just another girl leaving you for better? You say you are broken? No. You don’t know broken. Broken is when you actually shatter, inside and out. When you can feel your pieces tearing apart, and tearing your sanity in the process. You are broken when you clutch at those pieces before anyone can discover you so weak, but those pieces cut you to your bones, making you bleed. You bleed out your courage…. you bleed out your hope…. you bleed out your dreams, and you clutch at those wounds too… in utter vain. You are afraid to make a noise, lest someone hears. You don’t want anyone to know your pain…. since it doesn’t matter. You know your bleeding carcass is insignificant in front of the world, before the world’s wars. You tell yourself this…. seeing yourself bleeding through your grasp. You muster the little that is left… the courage, the hopes, the dreams and prepare to stand. Prepare to mask your wounds. You do. Yes, you stand and what’s more? You smile. This. Is broken… ____________________________ I don’t say anything to him though. And facing again the battle I was already fighting… I smiled;

I am everything a "maybe" has ever been... A myriad of uncertainty... I am anything a "cannot" can ever be... A chaos of helpless spree... I am nothing but a "never" stuck in time... And I'm trapped inside me;

It’s ok. It’s not ok. It shall be ok. It won’t ever be ok. It could be ok. It can’t be ok. I’m ok. I’m not ok I am not ok. I am not ok. I am not ok. I am not ok. I am not ok. I am not ok. I am ok;

Dare to step out in the light dear angel May you fall in love with it For this shine is what belonged to you since ever The moment you were hit The moment you were hit You chose to flee And let the black consume you Leaving no one searching thee Leaving no one searching thee You had decided none should know But you never thought to wait For the sunshine to melt the snow For the sunshine to melt the snow Underneath you were holding your breath For how long none would imagine You were frozen under the sheath You were frozen under the sheath Someone will realise how cold And would have held out their sun lit hand Someone shall be bold Someone shall be bold And will offer you a choice To bury your delusions Escape your mind's noise Escape your mind's noise And step into the light Step out dear angel The bold will lend you flight...;

Greater the level of perfection nd beauty... More are the minor faultlines prominent...;