1st August, 2017

You must be thinking what in the world happened to me.

Looking Back At My ‘Teenage Debris’

28th November, 2016

Let’s face it. I’ve had the lousiest of the lousestly lousest lousy week. Ever. I just turned eighteen (Yay I’m legal now!! I can have sex, I can donate blood, I can crash my car into a wall and get jailed only for public destruction and not under-age driving. Yayay!) last Wednesday, and let me just say that it has been as completely uneventful, tiring and not at all life-changing as I had very much not hoped it to be.

25th September, 2016

I was listening to a song called ‘The Winter of Our Youth’ by Bastille. It’s a pretty decent song and it’s, I think, about how the writer is not able to grow out of his childhood. It’s about how the writer keeps thinking about the past and can’t let go of it no matter how old he gets. He keeps ‘peddling back’ to it, alone and drunk. He wants to grow up, but his nostalgia keeps him stuck to his past,  his days of youth. 

Dear World,

10th September, 2016

Since my last letter, I’ve been trying to keep my anger at bay and trying really hard to not think much about it. It worked for a few days. I felt calmer, more focused. But yesterday, it all came spiraling down.

Dear World,

4th September, 2016

I’ve always thought that sharing your emotional baggage with someone is a sin because others have their own baggage to carry and for me to add on more load on them wouldn’t be fair, would it? So, I’ve normally kept it all inside me, thinking I’m some noble warrior who needs to be knighted for bearing all that pain by myself.

Cold Beach

The waves hit the sand and my feet-
With what it’s familiar and with what it’s not;
Confused between old and new.

The waves tingle my feet
And a star fish latches onto my skin.
It hurts but it’s stuck
Like the lull of a blue Monday morning.

The sky is grey, the air is cold.
My teeth clatter
But I don’t cover
My masochist devil.

Carry me away, wind.
Sink me in, sea.
I don’t want to exist in this pale old world.
It’s too boring, too weary, too lonely.

Step, step, step;
Shells hurt my soles.
Step, step, step;
Into the water. Cold –
Foams hit my feet and sand.

My feet wrinkled,but not as much
Wonder if they’re already addicted
To the cold and stand still.

It begins, today.

Today, it begins.

We all have flaws but only some have the courage to acknowledge them. From this day, I don’t want to run from them. I want to embrace them and call them my own. I don’t want them to be my weaknesses, I want them to be my guide which helps make me a better person – I want to unearth them to show the perfection hungry world how imperfect I am and how perfectly happy I am with it. I am loud, I am ugly, I am not the most intelligent, I am not good at articulating words, I am rude, I am not good as others and I will never be good enough. There are 7 billion of us inhabiting this beautiful planet. There are billions who are probably better than I am in ways I can’t possibly imagine. There will always be someone who is prettier, smarter, funnier, nicer but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, and that is what I want to acknowledge today. None of it matters when I am trying to be the best I can. None of it matters because my flaws are either inherited or learnt and the fact that I am trying to get rid of them makes me a better person.

 

Therefore, today, digging begins. I will dig out all my flaws, line them up and do them a makeover. Now, it might take me a lot of time to do that because I know I’ll get lazy at some point of time or I’ll get irritated or I’ll give up or I’ll die. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’ll try and do what is right. I won’t let people blackmail me into changing into a puppet.

 

No.

 

I will stop caring what people think because, believe it or not, I am not trying to become a better person so that people start liking me – nuhuh – I am trying to become a better person because I want to. I want to start loving because there isn’t enough love in the world and maybe because I don’t want to be one of them who spreads negativity just because they think they can and just because they haven’t found someone to love them yet. Yes, I want to help children, help control climate change, save tigers, stop antarctica from melting, remove poverty, destroy patriarchy. But, I want to change myself first so that I can tell people, “Look, I love myself, I love this planet and I love everyone on it. So quit hating. Loving isn’t as hard as rocket science, you know.”

 

And so, today, I promise to try. I promise to spread love and I promise to not procrastinate from doing so. Today, I begin the adventure of daring to believe that I can do something. Today, I start my honest perseverance towards my goal, my ambition and my ideal self.

 

Wish me luck?

 

 

 

A Tribute To The Boy Who Lived

Minerva McGonagall sat down while she heaved a deep sigh; of relief, woe or exhaustion, she couldn’t exactly choose which. The day had been long and full of anticipation. Arrangements had to be made, lists had to be revised, passwords had to be devised and the Sorting Hat had to be dusted. Being one of the house heads wasn’t easy and McGonagall was just starting to realize how stupendously eventful or horribly disturbing the year might turn out to be, depending on the activities of a single boy – A boy new to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

A Hefty Melody

A hefty melody is the one
Mixed with memories
And decorated with heart breaks.
It is a cocktail too heavy to consume
And too acidic to gulp down.
It burns your insides
Creating this ringing sound
So strong and so loud
That you trip over your own feet
And land straight on the shattered glass
Of your cocktail which at some point
You had dropped because of the ringing,
Oh so painful ringing.
Later, that same cocktail of rainbow colours
– Red, green, yellow, blue
Becomes white wine
– Critical, analytical
And less colourful
Yet you go back to the bar
Again after some time
And order the fates to bring you
The same colourful, revolting cocktail
You sip it, you clutch your head and you fall
You do it again, and again some more.
Because face it,
You’re addicted.

~~~

Do you too sometimes feel emotions come rushing back to you as soon as you listen to a song. Do you too attach memories and feeling and emotions to songs. Do you too feel that agonising pleasure every time you hear a sad song? Tell me about it, I would love to hear from you!

Quote Calling | East Of Eden

He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that, no gift will ever buy back a man’s love when you have removed his self-love.

~John Steinbeck, East Of Eden