My Reflection

As I stared into the mirror and my reflection stared right back at me. Nothing much had changed and this boy (well for all practical purpose I shall be a boy no matter what the numbers says on the birth certificate, or the candles on my cake, or the greys and wrinkles of the reflection that’s staring back at you), looks just the same.

But then the mirrors doesn’t lie and so your reflection that’s staring back at you reflects the real you.

So you see all your curves and edges. The chubby cheeks and no dimpled chin, something that you didn’t even have before. You see all the weight you gained. You see the flab on your belly and make you yearn for the flat tummy you once managed to achieve. 

You stare at the reflection of the muscles you once had but now is gone making you wonder if you will ever be able to grow then again. So now it’s just a phantom flex of something that’s no longer there, or at least is invisible for the moment.

But then the reflection that stares back at you is just your physical manifestation. But if you stare a little deeper (and here I realise I’ve used a lot of buts) your reflection reflects the unseen. Sometimes it’s the pain and sorrows, sometimes it’s the anxiety that threatens to consume you, at times your fears that limit you. But at most time you see the hope in those eyes, hope things will be better. 

But (and there I go again with the nuts) your reflection shows you the faith you have in yourself to get back to the way you were, the way you want it to be. It’s this reflection of the faith in you that keeps you going, knowing that you have the power with you to change who you are, the way you feel about yourself, the way you let the words of others affect you.

So you keep staring at the mirror and your reflection stares back at you showing you what is and what could be, and definitely not the fairest (or the handsomest l, in yours sincerely’s case), of them all!

.. the one with the Covirgin

He was part of a dying breed, who weren’t dying literally, but who’s numbers were dwindling by the minute, a covirgin.

Having a Monica complex, sanitisation came naturally to him. Anything he saw he sanitised. Before he sat, before he touched, or even used it, he sanitised and sterilised. Everything had to be sanitised before being used. In fact he couldn’t remember when was the last time he used anything that was not sanitised. He couldn’t remember when he had smelt anything that didn’t smell sterile. So thanks heaven loss of smell wasn’t one of the symptoms, otherwise he couldn’t be sure if he still a covirgin.

He wore every protection possible, every protection known to man, that could keep the virus at bay and maintain his covirgin status. All who saw him called him a walking PPE, cause that’s all he wore. After all, it was better safe than worry, he said.

But he also had another problem. He hadn’t popped his cherry. So he was Mary with the Cherry. Well not quite Mary, but he did still have his cherry.

He searched high and he searched low, for a way, for someone and try he surely did. But he couldn’t find someone who could aid him to do so. He searched on dating apps, cause that the most safest way of meeting someone without really meeting anyone in person too. Be it Tinder and Bumble and Grindr too, but there were none to be found. There were greater chance of him finding someone who could help him loose one status than the other. 

Just when he thought all was lost and he would die a virgin, he met her, an anomaly just like him, a missing piece of his jigsaw puzzle, a missing piece that completed him.

She was an Amy to his Sheldon, eccentric, paranoid and crazy. It was liked the world had conspired and she was created. And though life had played its part to keep them apart, tease him and make him wait.

But good things come to those who wait, so he was more than happy to wait to find Miss Always Right.

Those who saw them sweared they were meant to each other. Two peas in a pod. Two weirdos covirgin, virgin, who found each other. What was the odds of that happening.

And then it happened, their cherry finally popped. But along with so did the cherry too. The virus finally got them. So now they were sick peas in a pod, covirgins no longer.

Be Positve

So the year has begun on a positive note. Well not on the note you would have wanted it to begun, but now that it has begun by being positive, all you can do is to join the positive world  and quarantining yourself.

You may also sit and brood, and occasionally cough and sniffle and start to be obsessed with the temperature and how to convert from Celsius to Fahrenheit.

And though people may say it’s all in your head, what do they know what’s in your in your head. Well it’s not all about sex, as a lot of people would have us believe is the only thing on a man’s mind. So let’s not digress and try not to bother what’s in your head.

Being positive and trying to be positive are two quite inverse things. While you being positive had nothing quite to do in your hand  except a few not well thought out decisions, which you are paying for, trying to be positive can be a task in itself.

Though others may say, others may tell you that you will be alright soon, but convincing yourself is a task in itself, cause dimaag hai ki manta nahin!!! After all it can be quite the nautanki.

When life throws lemons, you make tequila shots. But if you are a teetotaller? What do you do? Oh yeah (and please don’t take sounds quite literally), you can always make some lemonade, and being a runner that’s the best hydration you can have.

So let’s be positive, literally, figuratively, and as what your blood group says. Sometimes you need to pause and take a break, to stop overthinking and begin to be positive. And it doesn’t hurt that you are stuck in Dubai l, even if it means being stuck with family.

Move on

You can’t hold on to the world 

And hope to move forward

Holding on to the past 

won’t take you anywhere, 

except keeping you in the past. 

And living in the past means 

you’re not living at all, 

cause you’re stuck in one place 

while others have moved on. 

You’re stuck in a bubble, in a memory

Reliving a hurt, over and over again

A pain that only you can feel

And no one can save you from it

The only way to stop the pain

Is not to remain the same

And hold on to the pain

But to let go and make the change

Don’t be sullen and low

You need to find ways 

To let go abs grow

You need to learn to move on

From a troublesome past

Into a promising future

Making most of your present

But the first step is to move on