I found someone to Love!

I open the window of my room on a worthless winter night and peep into the dry air of this city. It’s somewhere I’d fled to find refuge, a place far away from my nest. It glittered, it was gold, and it seemed so unattainable until a few years ago. It was the gossip of every gossip girl, the dream of a million, and my far-fetched land of adventure. My get-away from resistance, a city that had its value only in hopes and aspiration.

Nevertheless, I’m here today, in this night, surrounded by people and yet solitary. I breathe in the air that smells of absolutely nothing. I look at people smiling heartlessly. I wonder if it’s just my state of mind, or if they really have never learnt the art of smiling through their eyes.  The atmosphere around me deepens the misery of my unsatisfied heart. I’m depressed. I’m lonely, and I can’t tell a soul about it for I sought after this for myself.

 I'm a part of a superficial materialistic world and I'm struggling to keep it from affecting my innocence (I might not portray it but I do have some left). Honestly, innocence is not an acceptable trait here; people don't seem to like people who help others. I wonder why they run over selflessness; it disgusts me to the core.

This world that I am in is as real as it is fake. People don't spare a thing, they clutch at people with vulture eyes and cat claws. It seems like 'The English Oxford Dictionary' has erased the word called 'Humanity' from it, or even if it does still exist, it’s a mere formality or an ode to something that once existed.

In this country of ethics and etiquette's people are so busy saying 'Thank-You' and 'Sorry' for everything they do that they seem to have forgotten how being thankful and sorry really feels. Like I said, it just seems like a ritual not an action.

As far as those young dudes and dames that landed here from where I belong and the  places nearby, well, for them culture is now tittle-tattle because that's what they did back there and that's what they're doing here- Judging people who dare to be different. I never felt the gaze of 'someone' hovering over me back home, even though I was subject to constant rebellion, but I can feel someone’s eyes are always stuck on me now. People that are supposed to be my friends in this foreign land scare me. They umpire every step I take and because I refuse to be what they are, they analyze everything I do and make me realize (by silence and not words) how I shall give up my practices or I'd have to succumb to survive here.

Yet, there’s something keeps me from getting detached to this ruthless jungle of cement and its spiteful military of robots. It’s someone i met here. Someone, who listened to me when everyone else was busy screaming things that sounded like noise to me. The someone, I fell in love with and promised to cherish for eternity or death, whatever comes first. That someone comes to me when I’m asleep, smiles at me , tells me life isn’t as bad as I express. It yells at me for my idiocy and then laughs at that same lunacy because it’s something we share in common.  The someone I call ‘me’. This life that I’m living and this world that I’m living it in seem beautiful when I am, me. 

So I open the window of my room on a worthless winter night and peep into the dry air of this city and tell myself, “Stop cribbing stupid lady! This place isn’t that bad. You’re beautiful and this life that you’re living is hard earned so cherish it. Try finding that endangered happiness in tiny things that might not even matter. What is in your hand is your uptight cat, you love it it’ll purr at you. If you don’t, it’ll roam around you and still manage to forget you.”