Steam, woman, steam. Like a cup of tea with tulsi leaves. Like the glass of milk on a wedding night, yellow with haldi. Like hot iron pressed upon a … Continue reading Steam
It doesn’t matter if you are 12, or if you are 34. Heartbreak happens whenever. Don’t listen to them when they tell you that you’re too young to know about love, or pain, because you know something right now and that ‘something’ would be your everything if you were to die tomorrow. I’ve seen 50 year old people getting their chests ripped open and their hearts squished to pulp and so they would never consider your agony painful enough, but it is. It’s sad that people measure pain. It’s sad that humans have to assign quantities to abstractness, but what’s happy without sad?
The point is, what you feel right now is absolute destruction. Infinite emptiness. You don’t want to do anything, or meet anyone. You’re hungry but you don’t want to eat. It’s one of the hardest days for your body because it’s trying its best to keep you alive. Your heart, even though it’s ripped to shreds and residing at the pit of your stomach, is trying to pump blood through every vein you’ve tried to cut. Your lungs, the ones that are now dyed black from the smoke of every cigarette you’ve ever lit, are still struggling to make you breathe between your muffled sobs.
What does this tell you?
You might not believe it, but your body knows when it’s time for the full stop. That’s why some people survive the most fatal of diseases, and some people die of the most harmless of reasons. If it’s supposed to continue, the body will accept the help of a tiny pill, and if it’s not, it will reject a bypass surgery. That’s why miracles happen, because our bodies don’t give up until they’re supposed to.
I’ll be honest, life gets worse. I felt terrorizing pain when I was 12, and I got over it. Now I’m 16, and I feel way worse. I feel numb. But I’m glad I didn’t give up when I was 12, because that pain was not worth it. And I know this pain that I feel now, isn’t worth it either.
Your greatest fears of today, will be your ‘better times’ tomorrow, I promise you.
Life can only get worse once it gets better, and trust me, the worst can’t ever be worth death, but the slightest better is always going to be worth life.
You’re still alive, if you’re reading this. And that means it’s not the end. And it’s not going to be the end until it’s the end. I won’t tell you to be happy, because I struggle with it just as much, but I know that you will be. One day.
And that day, you will not regret it – you will no longer regret life.
This year didn’t really start that well. I was in the middle of questioning my very own existence when it begun, in fact. I had a very different idea of … Continue reading All I Want For Christmas
Disclaimer: For humans, this can trigger hate towards the author. Content is open to all kinds of subjectivity. This piece is a work of reality and applies mostly to the author.
Now, if you didn’t close the tab after reading the disclaimer, I bless you. If you didn’t read the disclaimer, I bless you too; it was by far the worst one I’ve seen.
Anyway, I got this pair of shoes just a few days ago and I’ve never received hate in such colossal quantity from a non living object before. Considering the fact that I‘m a good 4’10, the only good thing they’ve done to me is made me look a bare 5’2.
See, I’m the kind of person who values comfort more than anything – Anything except being treated my age (People generally think I’m 12). And besides that, no matter how much I want to, I can never pull off a pair of converse with an elegant black dress.
People generally suggest me to cover up for my lack of beauty with my abundance of personalities (I possess a lot of those), but that would mean having to spark up conversations and I try to avoid human contact as much as possible. I mean, we, as a community, as in all of mankind, are a bunch of VERY fucked up beings. I don’t know if it is general Homo sapiens tendency to be that messed up, or if I’ve just had encounters with very strange people in my life, but I’m very terrified of getting to know the mess and falling in love with it.
I guess I’m kind of Homo-sapiens-phobic.
In short: I fear knowing how screwed people are and still falling for them and then getting hurt and so I choose the give a pair of stilettos the right to hurt me because it’s easier than the other kind of hurt.
I have known since forever that concrete can build houses, magnificent castles even, but not homes.
I was known for my gullibility, and he was known for breaking promises.
Oh, how Delhi sunsets remind me of you.
While I sit in my balcony sipping on tea, my soul savors yet another cup of molten sunshine.
And you slip into my mind instantly – Every single airplane that flies by reminds me of how you left, leaving me with nothing except for an unfinished story, one which I can’t complete alone.
We had started it together, and we will end it the same way.
I see flocks of birds flying home, where the ones they love wait patiently for their advent.
When are you going to come home? I’ve been waiting for 6 years now.
Then there are these little pink flowers, the ones that are everywhere, the ones that grow out of nowhere. They remind me of how nothing-ness could be moulded into something so beautiful, just like us.
Of all the love I lost, yours was the love I still crave, for its madness was subtle and its innocence, incomparable.