A war with yourself.

I came across a fuzzy seed of myself.
This part that i nurutred everyday in the past,
That saved me on the silent days,
On the days my beliefs were bandaged like my tongue,

Has made a home in the silent hall of my heart,
This fuzzy wall is cracking down suppprting this seed all the time,
I see the failure of naive lost self, nailed,
rusty tacks that marred the heart,
lie beside my cold feet, plain,

I try to fill the crevices of this wall with the fleeting moments of happiness,
alas,its momentous strength fails to keep them align.

I watch them fall ounce by ounce as the roots of this seeed outgrow alongside the echoing room,
its silence is felt, but the voice keeps growing louder by each passing day.

The elongated roots seem too weak,
support each other and have become quite strong,
the brakish water nurtures them,
gives them hope they can still come out alive.
purple skies often shed their light and there they lay by the blackened sky nurtured and safe.

I try to burn them away with a flicker of hope that shined in life,
I stand paralysed as I watch this flame shudder under the coldness of this sight,
but the pecuilar roots defy this time, smell putrsecine,
as though it was never meant to be die.

Lust and love ( edited version)

**Lusty lies, beautiful smiles**

You’d find an abode in those tempestuous eyes,
those oh so perfect smiles, everything they do just seems so vague yet perfectly fine,

Some call it that wish for which they often prayed,
Oh! Look my wish was granted away.
I found the one, my happy place.

But for some pessimists like me,
Lust works like the poison that freezes the tarantula away,
Have you heard about that naive wasp that preys on those gloomy tarantulas by the bay?
This gloomy spider means it no harm, it runs away from the shadow of wasp,
But the wasp has her eyes fixed on its prey,
Her poisonous sting, paralyzes the spider away,
It cant think, nor move, it’s the wasp’s personal play.

Lust works on similar ways,
You’re paralyzed by their beauty and their face,
By their expressive eyes, their notorious self,
They are so brilliant in everything they do,
How could a person relaxing in his pajamas and unmade hair look so cute?

Being with them would make you forget everything else in life,
You’d read articles related to them talk to your friends and ask them for their views,
Take his side and convince your friends too,
You’d slowly start adapting his ways, so quick,
You’d expect the same energy from him too.

Every time you’d meet him,you would observe him a bit more closely,
The way he talks so calmly, the way he folds his arms together and gently frowns, the way he runs his fingers alongside his hair,
The way his hazel eyes shine with glee,
His peculiar beard trimmed in 90’s style.

His presence would make your day,
you’d ache to be in his arms
and wish to kiss him once again, you’d plan your next meet,
the things you’d say,
the dress you’d wear, the way you’d make your hair,
his favourite color would be yours too,everything should be perfect, for our adonis is just that way.

You’d fnd different ways to text him
(or accidentally text him? :p)
send him memes, flood him with questions new,
would expect his attention right away,
what if he forgets to text you day? Was he busy? Is he seeing someone new?
Let’s watch his story on Instagram or maybe snapchat today??

Random rant for the day.

Moving on is very ambiguous, it’s more complicated than falling in love itself Moving on/ way from infatuation/ lust relationship,is like carrying a sack full of sponge,it is supposed to be light you know? But the unforeseen rains just make it too heavy and now you just wander around with that load, everyday.

It is at times,that road you knew would lead you to your destination, but the various bumps and the uncertain track, makes you confused, you don’t know where you stand. Have you almost reached? Or have you not even crossed any checkpoint yet? Are you finally there? Can you celebrate your victory away? You’re quite unsure.

*****

I have tried all the things the Psychology today article said, at times referred to the book by various authors, or read those articles online.

They suggested a variety of things, from giving them a weird nickname, to making fun or laughing at their flaws (this was too extreme and fucked up I’d say) or talking it out to them sharing what you really felt, but in my case, it ended up with another series of texting battles, but the other side was too polite I couldn’t understand if that’s how things ended in normal way.

But the widely acceptable way I was told was, Giving it time, for it heals everything, I wonder if it truly does?

Or do you hide these feelings in a bottle full of sorrow and throw them in a sea of melancholy and pain? Where they lie afloat, dont sink nor drown, just flow away to a land unknown.

Or maybe it is that room filled with the person you once loved, or thought you did, the ones who lied, at times betrayed, at times met you by destiny or fate, but alas time, oh time,has it’s own way to take them away, they lie behind that door, of rusty lies and broken promises,you lock them away and never look back, for the keys, you’ve lost and now, you just wait.

Maybe time just teaches you, patience? And the other things, you learn them away

*****

It also means, there are days you are absolutely composed, so busy in your daily routine you forget about their existence, forget everything they ever said, it’s as though life was getting normal per se.

Then the very next moment, something ultra random and trivial reminds you of them. That peculiar cologne smell, someone walking in similar way as them, with ear phones tucked in their ears, they are rejoicing in their own world, their own place,or that unusual fragrance of that incense that made you feel jittery every time you met, the song they recommend being played in the background or in the place away.

Just one tiny thing and there you are the naive moth, once again, drawn to those wild flames, you get lost in the moment, remembering their smile, their eyes, their words, you missed them again.

Just godddamm why?

I’m fine.



I wish I could stop using this sentence at times, but ever since I was a child, maa always told me everything is fine, it’s all in your head,my little dandelion.

She told me that as a woman I must learn to accept some hardships in life,that crying over things isn’t the solution to life.

“Then when does one cry, maa?”

People cry when someone dies, shibu” Not when they’re alive and happy”

I wonder if I am truly alive?

My heart doesn’t really beat,
it functions like my neighbor ‘s old Ben clock,
Only at night does it realise that its alive
It echoes a silent tap, those muffled voices in the background snicker and laugh,
I hear a whimper, too soft for anyone to notice around,
But it ticks too loud, but oh the silence of the night takes the credit away.


***
Go for a run or a walk, Dad orders me,
I find myself wearing those worn out converse of mine,
Where my laces have knots and are too loosely tied,
I jog for a few minutes until those thoughts feel too much for me, the same disappointment,
The same numbness, the people in my life I could never please, I run, run the way I have always liked,
The one where people disappear and my heart beat comes alive,

After 3 rounds of running, I return back home,

“You look like hellboy” dad acknowledges my presence as he opens his new bottle of whiskey, tonight.
After two 60 ml shots,
He tells me that I act like an emotional fool at times,
that I must learn to be tough, be like a rock he says, it never cries.
I wish I could tell him that oh it breaks, shatters into pieces when it can’t cry.


……

I wish I were a child right now,
atleast writing “I am fine” hundred times would let my unconscious mind accept this plight,
Alas my heart would never accept that sight.

….

Why dont you share anything with me, I am right here, my friend texts me,
But what do I tell her when I myself dont understand it,
That there are times I just wish to be left alone,
All I want is the silence around me, not questions and remarks about how I am not doing well in life.
Rather all I end up texting them is, Oh it’s nothing, I’ll be just fine. :))

The paradoxical one.

She is unsure and uncertain in life, she wants a few things, yet doesnt want them too. She would initiate the conversation then feel it losing it’s sight and in time with her lack of effort, it’ll die.

For she knows they’d have many others whom they would talk to, she’d assume small things and get nervous all the time, “why did you type the Okay ♥️ as ok, / okay / k/ this time?”The others she wonders about the tone of their text and replies, “were they in a hurry or did they wish to talk to me after a while?”

“Why didn’t they use their regular emoji, or are they done with her hopeless plight?”

She deletes messages quite often too,for her anxiety tells her it sounds too rude or maybe not right, what if they feel bad? What if they read in between the lines? They cant see her vulnerable side.

Sudden calls from strangers scare her to death,do they expect a specific reply? Is hmm and haan and okay and yeah, fine? What if they feel she is not contributing to the conversation at all,her heart comes to her mouth, she feels like 1 year old, she babbles or mumbles or at times is inaudiblely loud.

At times,she is sure of her mind, sure of the things she has to say and feels about the people around, yes doubts and fear cross her mind, but her heart comes to resuce those times.

The others, her heart plays tricks on her mind, for it doesn’t understand the difference between infatuation or lust, confuses it with love and keeps her awake all night.

Yes she overthinks, she has scales of measurement for this overthinking too, a bit done every now and then seems fine, she takes overthinking breaks in between her day, thinks about the topic from all the sides and even tho the stimulus is out of her sight it still revolves in her mind.

Is it yes or was it no?”

She dislikes the term in between and people giving her ambiguous hues. She likes weird and confusing things for sure,

The puzzle the daily crossword, the sudoku hurl, the Rubik’s cube, confusing it may be for others but she’d try all the combinations and solve it overnight, and if not, then mess up the code and add more sequences to her plight.

At times she is nervous and shy,like the naive Caterpillar that transforms into a beautiful butterfly, she is oh so cautious and alert of her moves, never to harm a soul and usually complies.

The others she is bold and scary they say, like the moth, that’s as dark as the ruinous sky, you’d shoo her off, so that she doesn’t ruin your cashmere shawl overnight,

She’s reckless and wild, is attracted to dangerous people who often hurt her or leave her in the absence of light, is attracted to the feral fire that could burn her core, yet she wishes to go near it, to warm her numb soul.

…..

Life for her is a puzzle,

one cannot fathom right away

It is never truly black nor white,

At times it’s blue and purple, red and grey,

So arrange every piece that comes your way,

And that’s how she lives her life, everyday.