Ironic Realities.

By Upasana Gupta

You can drive around in a fancy car, hide your secrets in your blow-dried hair, avoid the world by looking at your phone or cover your tears with brand new shades.

You can smoke the last one in the box and pretend to blow the pain away, intoxicate with that extra glass and pretend to dance the fears away.

You can smile at your ‘lover’ to suppress the fight, bury your aspirations to accommodate. You can travel the distance to simply wait, or sometimes be stood up by a valentine date.

You can act all cute and call it romance, you can calculate each move and call it a chance. You can type in a heart and call it love, feel weak every morning and call yourself tough.

You can let him wander and still say ‘he’s mine’, you can wander yourself and not call it a crime. You can feel a hundred things and call yourself aligned, you can act like a rebel and still feel confined.

You can jump around the room to feel like a child, defy the adulthood creeping up behind, you can pretend like an adult around the adults who care, ignore and ignore their question marked stare.

You can go for a holiday to forget the daily grind, you can drive into the forest and leave it all behind. Yet gravity pulls you down as goodbye comes close, you feel the thorns again while looking for the rose.

You can be in love with the moment and lie that you love the touch of hand; you can smile about someone, and a something you never planned. You can listen to the music in the freezing cold, cry with nostalgia over anything old.

You can mope all you want, call your friends your foes, listen to the blues and feel the shiver till your toes. You want to know the future, but its not to be told, you wish to know all, all before its time for it to unfold

You stand now, contemplating the journey ahead, trying to walk new paths, being foolish or being bold..

 

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