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Shifting Sands

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Heat, it rises burning skin.  Sweat, tears, tempers cooled down,  To drink sweet water of anticipation.  Watch the dust storm coming in,  Waves of glittery diamond sand.  To cleanse you of your everyday sadness,  Wash away the sins of the past.  You are buried underground, you think,  You believe so dearly there is no way out.  It takes a hero to soar, my sweet boy,  It takes a man to want to try to win.  All stories begin and end this way.  It isn't life, if you haven't really changed.  There's always a girl who has faith,  And always a boy who is too late.  But somewhere, at last they meet,  Because that's how tales are told,  Of passion, valour, victory, death and deceit,  They must always follow a road.  From the clouds, the planes come down,  Some to destroy, some to resuscitate.  There is always an epiphany,  That makes for a great story.  Don't you think it's time you had yours too?  Of course, some end in tragedy,  Like the man who died with regrets,  Ab

The Night Gardener (2)

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The garden was watered today, by an unexpected thunderstorm. The leaves shook and fell, gathered near the gate. Rivulets of water carried them, swirling from the ground into the nearby pond.  The flowers glistened and shone, their buds, orange and pink, grateful for the drops of water falling on their mouths, drinking the thirst away. The branches, like hair underwater, danced in the wind. It had been a while someone pulled at them to swing them around. The hot, parched bodies of fruits now lay in the muddy ground, cooled down.  The gardener has been missing for a while. He has been sick lately. He feels guilty about not coming in every morning to check on his precious plants. His long fingers miss touching the soft petals of the roses, slowly unpeeling them, as the fragrance of their juices linger on his fingertips. He smells them to remind himself that he's been doing a good job. He is a diligent worker, and there's nothing that gives him more satisfaction than taking care of

Conjuring

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I'm never fully present anywhere. When I'm walking under a tree, looking up at its branches, I'm on the branches. I see leaves falling down, but what I really see is snow. Cold, white stars falling down on my hands.  I'm talking to you, I hear an air conditioner, but what I really hear is the sea. I'm sitting on a cliff, looking down at the waves. I'm never really there anywhere. When I'm there, I'm also somewhere else. I don't know how I became like that. I suppose I was lonely as a child, I was invisible and misunderstood. I could not explain myself to anyone. I could not understand anyone. It was easier this way. To live where you choose.  My son told me yesterday how he feels he belongs nowhere, that he must have lived on some other planet because nothing seems real. It didn't raise any alarm bells for me. All I told him was that I understood how that felt. I'm sure there are more of us out there. The ones who are never really there. I su

Indian English

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 "I actually saw you on TV at the football match in London. I could recognise you in an instant. " He smiles, his eyes gleaming up at the mention of football. His teeth seem perfectly okay, unlike the rather unflattering stereotype surrounding British men. But I'm not looking at his teeth this time. It's his eyes, a perfect blue, the sorts you only see in a swimming pool, never the ocean. I secretly envy him. Here I am, stuck with the most boring pair of dark brown eyes. His hair is the colour of my eyes, a dusty dull mud melange of summer rain.  "I told you I would be going for the match. Were you looking out for me? " I don't admit to him that I hate football. My ex was a Man U fan, yelling profanities in bars, walking up chest to chest towards Arsenal fans in hordes, asking them to meet him outside, man to man. Just toxic masculinity. I never understood the big deal about any sport, unless it was gymnastics or figure skating or diving, the kind that r

Invitation

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  I want to see you again,  The way a branch  Anticipates the wind.  Furiously holding on,  First to be rattled  By the one it mistrusts,  Relentless battling With arms and thorns,  Words and complaints.  How dare you break me each time?  Wanting you, but not bending,  While you persistently,  Keep pushing to make me believe,  I am not your enemy,  I am not the one you must fight.  Tears, old bark, salty leaves,  Struggling to deny their realness.  Giving up the unworthy fight,  Thrashing stones, walls,  Breaking dust, water,  Till all of the desire subsides.  Resisting again,  Submitting again.  Odd hours of working days,  Midnight callings, restless daze,  In cold cloud and harsh sun.  Till there's nothing Left to reject, dispel,  Accept, regret, admit.  Silently swaying tender arms,  A gentle song of tired bodies Under a peaceful moon,  Leaves falling on bosoms,  Like lost kisses on sleepy faces.  I want to see you, again.  I want you, to see me too.  Eyes within eyes,  Over a d

Song for the day

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  Do you think I'd give up That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah I would still be surprised I could find you, darling In any life If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah For all that was said Of where we'd end up at the end of it When the heart would cease Ours never knew peace What good would it be on the far side of things? It was too soon When that part of you was ripped away A grip taking hold Like a cancer that grows Each piece of your body that it takes Though I know my heart would break I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I wo

Empty

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I've been busy, Pouring myself Into cups of words,  Hidden identities On social media,  Where no one knows,  Who I am or what I look like.  Tumblers of songs,  Carved out of forgotten  Days and eyes where I once drowned.  Bright screens of laptops,  Vast vessels of a tale untold,  To be bound into a book,  For thirsty souls like me,  Who should never feel alone.  I have emptied myself Of your dreams, your fears.  Once, I always knew  What you were thinking,  But now I don't find you near.  I have poured myself into you,  Till there was nothing left of me.  I drank from your silences,  Till I was filled to be free.  I chatted with a stranger today,  Telling him if my life was a movie,  It would always have a background score.  I didn't tell anyone about you,  The one who stole my words away.  Besides, I don't think they should know.  I have poured myself,  Into years of wanting you.  If I have no words left anymore,  For you or the parched world,  Would you still find me

Song for a tune

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Reveal Won't you let me be,  Who I want to be?  Won't you find my face,  Remember it with grace. Won't you see my pain?  Covered in a place,  Where no one can ever see Who's hidden inside of me.  Won't you come to me,  As if I were your own?  Not torn by words unsaid,  Swallowed in defence.  I am the eyes exposed,  In the mirror that you chose.  Laughing at yourself,  For finding someone else.  The moon is high tonight,  It's time to start a fight,  Follow your own dreams,  Dont you worry about me.  Won't you find my face,  Remember it with love. Won't you look behind,  To see me stand in line?  As the past turns on ahead,  And the future's still unseen.  Won't you search for me?  Just like I did before.  Covered in a place,  Where no one can ever see,  Hidden inside of you,  The one you can't reveal.  ( First came the tune and then the words. Hopefully this will be the first song I sing that's written by me) 

L'Impicatto

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  I.  He finds himself locked out,  The key is in his pocket,  But he doesn't want to go home.  Going there means remembering All the old moth wings turned to powder,  He's not ready to forgive anyone yet.  He stands sulking in a corner of the street,  Sometimes at work till it's late enough,  For everyone to sleep soundly.  So that when he returns, he's still alone.  II.  His mouth is closed shut,  Lips stitched by the evil Queen,  Who warns him not to tell anyone,  Of how she whips him with words,  Pushes him down the swing of worthlessness,  If he speaks a word, he will be an orphan.  He is frozen like a broken sculpture,  That no one can bear to look at.  His eyes still reveal everything,  But his hands tied with burning rope,  Tear into his flesh without a sound.  There's nothing but despair for him,  Forgotten like a stone buried underground.  III.  Upside down for years on a tree,  He looks up to see there's still a sky.  At night, a star descends like Go

The Hairband (2)

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I dreamt of you last night,  With long hair tied in a ponytail.  You followed me around On a dark forest road,  Watching me like a hawk.  And when I fell down  In a muddy ditch,  My clothes sullied and brown,  You offered me your hand,  Asking me if I was okay.  "What are you doing here?" I demanded, knowing very well That you had been protecting me All along under the garb of being aloof.  "I told you, I'm always right behind you," You said, as I held your hand to climb out.  I looked at your hair again.  It was much longer than I've ever seen.  You looked so different now,  Not the shy man I had known before.  "Where's your hairband now? " I asked, remembering the only time I had seen you in it, when my heart Had stopped to find you so beautiful,  Like a hushed breath that never makes a sound.  "Do you still think I'm sexy?" you asked.  "I think you are even more sexier than before, " I answered coquettishly with a lau

Shame

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I haven't really understood shame. I haven't begun to understand what feeds and empowers it. After building up a lot of courage, I had finally put up a video of me singing a song. I generally don't put videos of myself anywhere because I can't control my expressions or flaws in a video. It's easy to choose a photo and put up the best version of yourself online. But you can't do that in a video. It is an unfiltered version that captures everything you've wanted to hide.  I'm used to my closest friends not encouraging my singing at all. Throughout my one year journey since I began, all I was told was, you stick to writing, please for God's sake, don't sing. I knew I was bad, but I wasn't ready to give up. I stopped sharing my singing videos with anyone. The only person who said good things about my voice was my son. In his eyes, I was perfect no matter what I did. Yes, he was biased because this was the voice that sang lullabies to him to put h

Address

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Far beyond the fields of the village, where the long grass grows, there is a patch of trees. They rise up above the green grass, covering the sky. If you stand underneath them, your skin looks green, as if you were swimming under a mossy lake, where sunlight finds it hard to penetrate.  Under the giant tree which has a trunk with a chipped out burrow, lies my home. To access this place, one has to dig with one's hands. Of course, not everyone likes to get their hands soiled, especially the fingernails. But if you do dig hard enough, you find a trap door.  It is a beautiful trap door, made like an antique with bars of black iron marking a solid design. The handle is the face of a lion, an almost long forgotten warrior's emblem. It is also a warning for weak willed people and intruders to keep out. If you trespass, I could come after you with a sword.  Upon pulling open the creaky door, you will find a ladder that goes down. It lands up in a tunnel that stretches further under th

Unfurled

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The words they say, I have nothing left to say.  No thank yous, I'm well,  How are you?  So kind, all of you.  I'm not going to pretend,  To be blissful and divine.  No photographs on land,  Not this time.  I'm dissolving  In self loathing and regret,  Burning skin in formaldehyde.  This lake of hell,  Seeming so icy, so forlorn.  Underneath the needles,  They puncture everything.  Don't come close or you'll slip Far down into this mystery,  That not even hunters can spot,  Nor sailors far away at sea.  Underneath the lake,  Is a whirlpool of hate,  Of sin, of calling out names,  To the ones who have died,  To the ones never lived,  The deaf who stay in towers,  Where black ash faced maidens sing.  The fearful and the hated, They left before winter came.  The fish shrunk in misery,  Before they could be saved.  But me, I am not scared, I will write names in silence,  For the ones who are scared.  Just so that they feel ecstatic They feel overwhelmed and proud.  I am

The Forest

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Breathe this air,  Sweet concoction Of pine and sun.  In this forest Fires burn Dark riding  Waves in the light of the moon The waters flow And my feet grow,  Traversing miles Of old dirt roads I see the green Moss over stone,  Clouds coming down,  From a place in the mind.  I stop running,  Here I know no fear,  Of love or pain.  Humming birds Sing silently Prayers like wind chimes Rise up to my head The cloud floats Inside me now,  Engulfs me gently,  Without a sound.  Life or death,  It doesn't matter anymore.  If living is for the brave, Then dying must be too. Somewhere in this forest,  There is a magic tree,  I find it at last, And it sets me free.  Once I am free,  I want no escape.  I close my eyes,  I open my eyes.  I'm home, I'm here,  I'm already free.  There's no other place To go, no place I'd rather be.  Breathe this air,  Breathe it out again.  I'm the cloud now,  Rising above the forest floor. 

Tessellation

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  Dig deeper, Nail treasure chest,  Hope, faith, serendipity,  Wipe away blood,  On stormy sea floors,  Turn over the books,  Tear them apart.  This is not a game.  Fear of losing, Is your weakness.  Throw out the rule book.  Scrounge the last drawer,  On your knees,  Because prayers Cannot be heard,  When you shout.  Hear that voice?  Small, silent, ignorant Of knowing  The taste of victory?  Catch that voice, Before it retreats,  Truth barrels Resounding,  But you cannot hear.  A gentle humming,  Like birds in black Forests huddled tired,  To take flight.  You hide from who?  Your own face Or is it mine?  I don't need to see Or hear you.  I'm on the floor,  Scratching nails Underground,  Holding on tightly To the love You can't find.  This is not a game, This is not a grave.  In the remains Of what could not stay,  I hold your bones,  I quietly pray.  Sometimes,  You are beneath  The soil,  Dragging me down.  I let go,  I do not wish to drown.  Look again,  The bottom mos

Coalescence

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There is a flower,  Where once,  My heart used to weep.  It is a bright sunflower,  Looking up to smile.  For years,  I thought it Would not bloom,  Amidst incessant Torrents splashed,  Barraged by ice Harsh buckets of snow.  Every time,  A bud sprouted, Running feet Trampled it Before it could grow.  But my heart Was not just resilient,  It was observant too.  It realised over time,  That it needed to wait,  For the sun to arrive again.  Huddled in the dark,  It imagined the warmth,  That spring would bring.  Golden rays magnified By cloud colour lens,  Scattered across fields,  In hot, summer days.  When the dreams  Were nothing But deafening nightmares,  It heard a voice,  Asking it to believe,  You are pretty,  You are brave,  If only you could see,  What others see,  When they see you,  You would know,  How happy you could be.  Winter perished,  Just like all dark things do.  I found my heart,  Reaching out Every morning,  To stretch outside  A little more each day.  There is a fl

Incommunicado

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I have crossed another milestone in my healing journey. Of finally stopping my people pleasing behaviour. It started when I finally understood the concept of boundaries, something that was lacking in me all this while. For the life of me, I didn't know where to stop. I would continue to shower the other person with attention and affection, hoping they would feel better about themselves. Maybe if I tried harder, they would realise their worth and in turn my worth.  The problem was I did not know my worth. My therapist had suggested last year that most survivors of sexual molestation and abuse do not understand the concept of boundaries. It takes a very long time for them to learn to stop their repetitive patterns. Blurring of boundaries also leads them to not understand the boundaries of other people. Hence the constant love bombing, anxious attachment, codependency and not picking up on subtle cues that the other person is uncomfortable.  My lesson now is that I will only invest wh

The Cave (2)

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He took a deep breath and attempted to stand up. He stumbled on the wet rocks, but slowly reclaimed his balance. It had been ten months inside this cave. It no longer scared him anymore. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and his body had learnt to survive on the light emitted by the crystals in the stalactites that hung from the roof of the cave.  The yellow-eyed demons that used to provoke him, calling him deprecating names and showering him with abuses had disappeared. In his time here, he had realised that they were not real. They looked real because he had allowed them to feed off on his negative thoughts.  Every time he lost his temper or believed that he has not deserving of happiness, they hovered around his head to take advantage of his weaknesses. He could see their red tongues sucking out the goodness from his soul. But time had taught him how to block them out. Their acerbic words meant nothing to him.  He remembered her words before she left. She had told him to

The Night Gardener

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 I.  Between the sparkling trees,  And the wound down road,  There's a place we both know.  I will meet you there tonight,  Just like I did the night before.  II.  I dreamt we were naked,  In a pool drenched by sunset.  The sky was amber gold,  Water glistening on our lips.  You looked into my eyes And said, "Always be my night,  Giving up my sleep, Would be worth  All my days for you. " III.  I want to know  How your tongue feels,  On my tongue,  Inside my soul.  I want to feel  Your fingers on mine,  As you fill me up,  With caterpillar trains of  Of unspoken thoughts,  Squirming to break free.  IV.  At midnight,  You slide into my bed,  Like a ghost on a swing.  You move to and fro,  Breathing on my neck,  Invisible, but audible,  Like a warm light in the oven, Whispering in my ear,  'Say my name,  Say it once again, please. ' V.  You look gentle,  But you are a violent lover,  Greedy, desperate and possessive.  You ask to destroy What isn't even yours.  Yo

Words are futile

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  - Rumi

The Light

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There was once a little girl who often felt alone. She had no friends, and even though she loved being with the grown-ups, she would crave for someone just like her.  One day, the girl sat alone, playing with a leaf and watching the adults talk about office and politics and food and money. She pretended to understand what they were saying, but she was bored. If only she had someone she could talk to about magic and clouds and kittens and flowers.  She saw a little boy come sit next to her. She was so happy because he was just like her. He had the same orange light that those untainted by the world had in their youth. As they grew older, the light would change to a greyish blue.  She went up to him and smiled.  "Will you be my friend? We are so alike. " The boy looked up at her and she was sad to see his eyes were grey, in spite of his light being orange. She felt so much pain just looking at him that she wanted to reach out and hold him tight.  "What happened to you? Why

Projection

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'You are too much,  Too intense,  Too deep,  Too giving,  Too loving,  Too sensitive,  Too intelligent. ' 'But isn't that good?' 'It may be,  But I am not,  So I cannot reciprocate.' 'But you are not me,  And I don't want you to be.  Do you want me to be less?  Because that's one thing I really can't do.  I am too much  Of myself to change.  I can help you Reach out to touch the sky,  But I can't make Your arms longer.  Could you be you,  And I could be me,  Both imperfect as we are?  Or is that too much To ask?'

Time of Birth

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Why do I have to Suffer so much?  I cried in pain to my mother.  Is my body a casualty In an unknown war?  Was I born At an inauspicious time?  No, said my mother. You were born just right.  Maybe it's because you are strong,  That you have to endure hardship.  I think she is right.  Maybe the planets Collided all in a line,  To ensure I never give up.  The astrologer says,  It's Jupiter and Saturn, They are sitting in your chart,  They never see eye to eye.  You will suffer whatever you do,  Friends will leave you,  You'll always be misunderstood,  Even if you try to do good.  I don't agree at all,  I'm not the one to cave in,  I'm not the one the planets can fight.  I'm the most stubborn person One could ever meet.  And even though  I'm tired of being tested Through out my life.  I decide to prove to her,  What she believes as true.  I was born at just the right time,  At the crack of dawn,  As the sun made its way up,  After the year's longest nig

Saptaparni

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  Qayamat ki awaaz ho tum.  Kissi bhatakte dil ki  Khamoshi mein baithe hue Goonjti hui saransh ho tum.  Chalte hue ruk gaye hum ajaanak,  Unki yaadon ki kitaab ho tum.  Ek baar yoonhi Saptambar ka maheena tha,  Poocha tha unse humne unke ghar ka pata.  Bole woh mera koi ghar nahin,  Main to yunhi daaliyon ke jhoolon Mein thirakta hoon bas.  Musafir hoon yaaron,  Na ghar hai na thikana.  Jaise hi unki zubaan se woh jhoot Ka tar sa gungunaya, humne unke Hoothon ko bazaar sa maan liya.  Jo boli lagaya saste mein, unhe Hamesha woh hi ghar le aaya.  Khair, chhoro unke jooth ki kahaaniyan,  Abhi to saal ho gaye in baaton ko.  Par jab bhi hum tumhari nashili Pankhariyon ke kareeb aate hain,  Hamein bas woh hi yaad aate hain.  Kehte hain tumhara naam hai Shaitaan ka per, par unki tarah Tum bhi to sirf raat ko nazar aate ho.  Apni behkane wali sugandh se,  Har raat humein jagate ho.  Aaj hum ruk gaye aur pooncha tumse,  Tum chahte kya ho humein behla kar?  Gir jayein tumhare kadmon mein,  Ya b

O

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Heavy branches The fruit must fall When time drags on.  Stretching the wave,  It will crash,  No matter how far.  The sands drenched,  Beds alone soaked.  At first, the numbness,  The nothingness,  Of not knowing What is futile,  Anymore.  Sink then a trance Seeing the signs.  Rivers will flood Only when breached,  Storms drive Tears of longing ashore.  Stars finally, see them Over your eyes,  They are right there.  Bursting in brain Sweet magic pop candy Crackling in mouths.  Think of heads Underwater gasping for breath,  Coming up for air.  Take my breath,  Cover my mouth.  Hands pull boats,  Thrash to settle down.  Screams of seagulls Flapping to the ground.  Puddles these boats make,  They bring seas back home.  Hot sun shines, dries eyes but,  Salt leaves traces on land, Unseen by eyes,  That are unaware,  Water and earth are bound,  Even if far away,  Always bound,  In horizons, in shores,  In daydreams, at doors. 

Aise din

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Aise bhi din aate hain.  Jisse rukna hota hai Woh toot kar bhi ruk jaata hai.  Jisse jaana hota hai,  Woh ruk kar bhi chala jata hai.  Jisse kuch pahna hota hai,  Woh leh kar bhi khali reh jata hai.  Jisse dena hota hai,  Woh de kar bhi bhar jata hai.  Jisse ishwar ne mazboot rakha ho,  Woh roh kar bhi hass deta hai. Jisse ishwar ne kagaz sa banaya ho,  Woh kalam ki kharoch si bhi galich ho jata hai.  Jisse pyaar khud se na ho,  Woh doosron ko kuch nahin dega kabhi.  Jisse pyaar doosron se bahut ho,  Woh khud ko bhi baich dega kabhi.  Aise bhi din aate hain.  Hum dekhte rehte hain,  Aur saamne hamare ek pankti Ki tarah sab ek ek shoonya hote hue Kohre ki taraf chale jaate hain. 

Insomnia

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Towering shadows,  Stand by my bed.  I am so tired,  But I still talk to them,  Of faith and hope and love.  I am a chaperone for dreams,  Standing at the forbidden gateway.  'Come, enter, don't be afraid,  This way, every night,  Here's where you must stay.' They are hungry for days,  Eat my neck today, I say.  Here are my calves,  The ones you adore,  My eyes, my lips, my hands,  Rubbing your back pain away. I'm so tired, I know they are too,  We haven't slept for years now,  We haven't spoken the truth.  I kneel at their feet in surrender, raising hands,  I see them looking at my empty eyes, I beg,  'Take all of me, leave nothing behind,  Sacrifice me for yourself, I'm willing, I don't think I will ever mind.  But please, get me out of this dream,  Bring me into reality, break this spell Or kill me, because in between, I'm dying' They pull me up and embrace me,  Hold me tight and still deny it.  'You are going to be here forever, 

Touched

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I consciously asked for a full body massage. I had been feeling extremely low, weepy and filled with self loathing. When you look in the mirror and can't recognize yourself anymore, it is an awful feeling. I needed to be touched to reassure myself that I was still alive.  Massages are one of my favourite things in the world. It's no wonder that even the erotica I watch has to do with massages, to be taken by surprise by a touch. I've never been massaged by a man, so the idea of it is unknown and exciting. But my monthly massages have less to do with that and more to do with tiredness and body pain.  When she massaged the painful knots in my shoulder, I felt myself resisting. Resisting to things comes easily to me, giving in is hard. If I give in to someone whether in an argument or in a task, I must care about you a lot. Because giving in requires weakness, displaying which is not easy for me. If I surrender to your ego, you are probably one of the few people I love.  When