What Makes Me Write – Ocean Singh

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Aren’t we suppose to write what we feel! Aren’t we suppose to say what we feel!

This is the way I say something. I write and would go on and on talking about you. Or the things you hold. Your smile, your laugh, your touch, your eyes. Your embrace, which is a whole universe.

Am I supposed to write just the romantic part! But also, why not keep going with it!? Romance makes me write. Like you, make me romance!

Aren’t we suppose to fall for someone! Keep them in our heart. Make them beat instead of the heartbeats. Make them run in the body instead of the red liquid.

Spent moments with them, and then spent moments missing them.

Aren’t we suppose to love! When it is the only thing to live to be. Meet someone, making that stranger our own. Have conversation, finding their words, beliefs of our own. Being wrapped in their arms, and feeling our own self. Losing the body, and becoming them.

Is love only physical! Touch, appearances, presence. And if it is, are we not supposed to feel the pleasure of it!

Love is both physical and spiritual. And romance, is the painting holding the warm and cold hues of both.

And if love is spiritual, then aren’t we suppose to fall for that stranger, living miles away. Doesn’t it stays alive in the distance? Am I wrong, if I’m in love with the moon! Am I not supposed to fall for it every time, when we both have a talk. The way it looks at me, the way it holds me. The way it turns my blues into divine romance.

Are conversations just words! Aren’t they eyes? Aren’t they touches! Aren’t they fights! Aren’t they lies! Are they not the longing! Are they not the wait! Are they not finding! Are they not the final meetings!

Aren’t we suppose to write what we feel! Aren’t we suppose to say what we feel!

Isn’t pain another world than the happiness? Are we not supposed to live in that too. Are we not supposed to make them both our home. Are we not supposed to travel according to the mood.

Romance! Is just not the happiness. It’s just not the smiles, laughs and pleasure. Romance is pain too. Feeling blue, dropping tears and yearning. Romance is the joy of being in love. The love which is physical, it comes and goes. The love which is spiritual, it stays and grows. And love is both physical and spiritual, it molds.

Is romance not an escape, from the real world! Imagining and travelling into the fantasies. Fantasies which are good and happy. Fantasies which are dark and crazy. Isn’t romance another travelling!

And if romance is travelling. Why aren’t we supposed to be a lunatic. Why am I not supposed to think of my moon and covering every single step to reach it and embrace it finally, just in my head maybe. I still feel it. I am writing what I’m feeling. I’m saying what I feel. So, Aren’t we suppose to write what we feel! Aren’t we suppose to say what we feel!

I feel to hold each of the person, that soul, that thing, that experience, which made me write, Which makes me write – and make them once again to share the part of this romance. I feel to keep having this romance. And I feel to have it even after I don’t breathe. As romance is also memories. Is romance not an escape, from the real world! Isn’t romance another travelling!

-Ocean Singh

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Ocean Singh

About the Author: Ocean Singh

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