2014-2020

1. I whine too much and I rarely smile like I mean it.
2. My words are heartfelt, the abuses and the mush too.
3. I don't earn most of what I've been blessed with.
4. I'm perpetually dissatisfied with the situation I'm currently in.
5. I dream of a perfect world, knowing it doesn't exist.
6. I believe in fairytales and superheroes.
7. I would like to think that there are things in this world worth dying for.
8. I know there are people in my life worth dying for.
9. I am in a relationship with my phone and my laptop is the only form of commitment I've truly known.
10. I listen to heavy metal when I'm pissed and emo bullshit when I'm happy.
11. I replay moments, episodes, entire days in my head to assure myself they did happen once.
12. I like making people smile even if just for a nanosecond.
13. I follow my gut, I trust too soon, and I don't give up.
14. I am a masochist.
15. I am also a human microscope who over thinks practically everything.
16. I have my weakness. It used to be my strength.
17. My memory and incredible love for detail shocks even me at times.
18. I. know. i. will. yearn. for. love. forever.

Now that we've gotten to know me, would you turn around and walk out the door? Or do you still care enough to stick around?

18. He doesn't drink alcohol and I think he would've been the perfect whiskey boy.
17. He worships rock.
16. He doesn't sing as far as I know, but I have a feeling when he does, it is beautiful.
15. He quotes writers without any help from me.
14. He remembers things in intricate detail, enough to fail even me.
13. He writes of murders and thrill.
12. He cracks jokes in every second sentence.
11. His favourite Tennis player is Federer, band is Floyd, and football club is Manchester United.
10. He hates Liverpool (almost) as much as I do.
9. He can do anything but go an entire day without sarcasm.
8. He also wrote a novel.
7. He reaches out randomly and makes me smile.
6. He doesn't call, ever.
5. His taste in books is still questionable.
4. He loves the city that I hate.
3. He helps me with basic tech stuff that makes me feel like a complete blonde.
2. He is oblivious to how much his friendship meant to me at a time when I was most alone.
1. He doesn't know that I'm writing this; and probably never will

Now that you've gotten to know him, you do know that we're unlikely friends and years from now I probably wouldn't even be able to place who I wrote this for. But today, I know. And today, from where I'm standing, I'm glad to have known him.
Don't make me regret this, you. 

Does somebody love you?

  - in the way i do -

when i'm left to my own devices for too long,

i don't know what i become

i may not be extremely special

but i sure am extremely talented at kidding myself about it

because i enjoy the territory it comes with

geniuses are allowed madness 

and how else would you explain this dark madness inside of me?

that neither food nor music can quench

that love only dampens but never extinguishes

allow me to be mad 

and alone

and dark

allow me to self-destruct

and yet, save me too

be mine

leave me 

to my own devices 

and watch me crumble and combust

as perfectly as only i can

as beautifully as only i do

Take it all away.

 What do I do to stop feeling so utterly and completely alone and hollow from within?

If my tears could speak, this page would be full, but they can't

So it's not.

If my heart could be cajoled, it wouldn't break so easy, but it can't

So it does.

If my mind could be tricked into believing and keeping faith, I would

But, it can't.

If there was a prayer for redemption of one's soul, I would start praying

But there isn't.

If there was a way to erase memories, I would erase them

all

But there isn't.

And I can't.

Here we are again, Ved.

What does it take to come alive? To breathe? To believe? In magic? In goodness? In yourself?

What does it take to stay alive? To march on? To keep trying? To not give up? On yourself.

What does it take to begin to thrive? To excel? To win? To succeed? At health? At life? At love? 

˜

Perhaps all it takes is you and me 

Separated by destiny

Go on, now.

The fated moment's here

All the sidestepping in the world couldn't keep it at bay

Now it's time for me to step back, dear

I used to believe I have the courage to stay

I don't.

In so far

Don't really know the shallow end from the deep

I left all my doors ajar

Hoping you'd get to my heart, and that you'd keep

You didn't.

Oceans could be crossed, mountains climbed

Even if that meant drowning or falling

But for this, I was forever primed 

And I guess I was just stalling

The inevitable.

So, go on now 

Don't look back

I'll leave you with a smile

And a promise that I'll be fine 

Someday.

Exile.

In the fog of, what is right, I have not given into what I want - for incredibly long (378 days, give or take) - and even when I did, it was nearly not what I ever wanted to say. See, that's another thing I do. I hide, and I run, and I pretend like I'm strong - long enough for it to fool you (never me). 

However, the turn of events in the recent past have left me craving your voice. It's not sentimentality - and it's definitely not longing - it's just that you were there at the inception of this dream and it's just, ironic, that you're not anymore. 

All the things that went wrong, I take responsibility for (at least in part) but this silence that we're stuck in - that's on you darling. I know why it exists - maybe it's punishment for both of us for being as reckless as we were with something as great - but it is in moments like this, I am tempted to break it, consequences be damned. 

Because it wasn't just love ever was it? You saw me - for the very first time - and just for a split second I believed in myself. I thought, I was good enough, I mattered, I would live on to inspire. And somewhere if I'm introspective, I think the silence takes that away from me - if you don't see me like that anymore - I have trouble believing in it myself even when people I adore and admire, tell me to, repeatedly. If your belief didn't last, how dare mine? Am I really that self-indulgent?

The worst thing however is that after over two years of disbelief, something big enough has happened to convert even a skeptic like myself. I want to tell you all about it, so bad. Not because you deserve any credit, even I'm not that deluded. But because I know you'll smile - you'll be happy for me to have achieved my dream. You'll be... proud? And while it shouldn't matter to me because you've not been a part of my journey for so long, I still find myself wanting to tell you.

I guess you weren't in my top 10 calls... But now I seem to have crossed my top 50, and it's daunting on me that a very important name has been omitted by me. While you strive for us to be remember each other poorly, and observe hate-norms from opposite sides of the world, I like to remember what we added to each other's lives... Or at least what you did to mine.

I'm sorry I constantly fail at hating you, because that is just not something I'm comfortable with, despite all your schemes and plans - and I think that's why I feel constant salt is added to the injury that should have healed long ago.

I have forgiven you for the end, everything that followed, and the silent hate that you exude towards me. I have moved on and started believing that I deserve love and good things in life. I find myself in love, filled with hope and success, and second-guessing myself, much lesser than before. I do find myself believing in myself (even if rarely), in him (even if constant belief is terrifying) and in love (even though that's the scariest of them all). 

I have come really close to calling you this past week but I think the only thing that's held me back is that...

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'll continue to follow the rules you made, that I never believed in, because I don't think either of us can now bear a reality in which the other isn't exiled. 

PS: All I wanted to say over the call was: I did it, finally! So long and thanks for all the fish :')

This is my song.

...of inadequacy,
Does it ever leave? This feeling? You would think one can have enough achievements in their life - if there ever was anything like "enough" in this consumeristic, materialistic, unjust world - for it to at least sink somewhere deeper where it becomes harder to resurface but nope. There's always rejection and regret and choices that weren't made at the right time or at all.
It stays, and it haunts.//

...of not being enough,
You know that fleeting thought that no matter what you do, you'll never be good enough? Sometimes it's just not so fleeting anymore. There might be evidence to the contrary but then, there's enough to strengthen this belief as well, right? That you're not pretty enough, not smart enough, not well-placed enough, just not enough.
It gnaws you from within.//

...of perpetual self-doubt,
Am I good daughter? A loving partner? A caring sister? A loyal friend? A kind person? What if I'm just not a permanent kinda person. What if I'm a great temporary, but a horrible forever? What if nobody ever sees me the way I want them to? What if everyone is selfish and I'm not built for this world? What if I'll never belong?
It leaves you hollow, and empty.//

...of darkness,
When you've been chasing the light but it thwarts you, misses your steps, and startles you in the few moments that it does grace you, you fall back to the known, even if it is miserable. When you feel absolutely alone and insignificant in this universe, where do you go? Whom do you call? What do you say? How do you explain the void in your chest?
It leaves you helpless, and hopeless.//

Kaise Hua?

It's so rare - and fleeting - this feeling - no, not happiness; contentment.

You know when you have the most basic day and it's still perfect?
I don't take up a lot of space on my writing forums to be grateful and yet, one of the things I've come to be most grateful for lately, is time spent with loved ones. I think the past two weekends have been testimony to this. During a pandemic instated lockdown, it's only natural to feel the stress and pressure of being separated from ones I wouldn't voluntarily go without for long or short spells, really. However, tonight, I feel immensely... Complete. I think the past two weeks have really enriched me with minimalism, which is rare. I'm usually someone who desires and aspires for the big, the extraordinary, the grand.

However, I found comfort in talking for hours with friends I hadn't caught up. I found laughter in revisiting stories with family that had drifted away. I found rejuvenation in playing silly games with parents and extended family (and of course in unleashing the competitive side). I found ecstasy in having one of my best friends make the time and space and effort to spend uninterrupted time with me and in spoiling her rotten over the course of that weekend with my hostess-ness. I found bliss... In holding your hand again, touching your skin, almost like electricity; in being close to you, and yet not close enough; in finally taking you in, all of you, lips, body, mind, soul, everything.

I don't know how I've gotten here honestly. This feeling of being fulfilled and complete is so... new? Engaging? Refreshing? Satis-fucking-fying. I do look for small signs and gestures, take pleasure in the mundane and routine - from asking you about your meals to making some for people I love. I'm still far from the version of productivity and efficiency that I envision for myself but somehow I find myself, telling myself, tiny, little positive things lately - about myself. I'm being kind, almost? And I'm feeling something so much more than love for him...

As cliche and cheesy as it is, I guess I'm honestly just another girl, looking at her boy from across a virtual screen, wondering...
Kaise hua? Tu itna zaruri kaise hua?

2 broken hearts.

Something's shifting,
around you?
me too.

His touch isn't there,
neither is yours,
is it?

I don't get high
Like I used to,
anymore.

We keep spinning,
round and round,
quietly.

My dairy lies discarded,
in a corner,
she weeps like I do,
from within.

With or Without you

There's a sandstorm at my doorstep,

I know there's torrential rain to follow,

I sit by the window, 

waiting.

I found some sand in my shoes today,

Reminiscent of all the beaches I've been to,

I held it in my hands, tight,

nostalgic.

My dreams are still made of happy endings,

Even though my brain runs far away

From their very thought,

disbelieving. 

Maybe it's all symbolic,

The sand, the rain, the storms,

A message from the universe, waiting to be 

deciphered.

Cinder and smoke,

Maybe I'll choke

On all this thought of

destiny.

There's oceans.

There's this thing I do now, which I have never done before, ever. Because I wanted to save us from scars for as long as possible. It's something silly and insignificant really, but it's big for me and I like that it helps hold you in a place in my heart, the existence of which, even I was unaware of. But I'm losing my mind without your face, and your touch, and your voice on my skin. I'm spiralling and constantly running away from myself and any possible triggers. Because I don't want to test you in any way - I'm testing my self-restraint and willpower in ways I didn't think possible. Perhaps it doesn't look like much because I still keep whining to you, constant-fucking-ly. 

Imagine working for as long as you do, and then staying up late to talk to your person, and them always being miserable and demanding. I get it. Anyone would tire. Frankly a (large) part of me is waiting for you to tire - almost? But as I stay up, night after night, the oceans between us keep growing larger and keeping us further and further apart. I haven't felt your radiant smile, shine on me for so long that I think I've forgotten how to (genuinely) appreciate it across a screen, more so because I'm forgetting how to appreciate most things as time passes me by, and the reality of the virus dawns on me more and more. 

Nothing seems to have any meaning anymore darling. Because nothing ever leads to you. It's an unending torture. And with the whole world literally like a sinking ship, I don't know if I will ever get to you, before I go sinking too. I'm so close to breaking my personal vow, because my resilience and perseverance is cracking. The self-doubt looms over my head, darker than before; the negative thoughts keep building up; the questions with no answers; and the feeling that I'm alone - all the effing time. I'm all alone.

I know, I know what I'm doing to me, and you, and us, and I can't seem to be able to stop. I'm so mad at myself for not being half as logical or practical or just fucking real. I want to stab the idiotic romantic fool inside me till its dead and gone - it tires me so. I want to pull my guts out so my heart can stop sinking down to them, as soon as there's a slight mention of a longer delay in seeing you. 

I always knew I had my weak spots, but to have you become a weakness, so fast, and so much, is unnerving even for me. I want to just be able to face this evil monstrosity of a virus, bringing you some semblance of comfort and peace that I seem to be so adept at bring to the rest of the  world.

Yet, I fail repeatedly, currently in this battle and perpetually in the emotion called love. I've probably never grown enough to get it right. I just hope that I do, but hoping and praying is not enough. 

Clearly, neither is love; for all the love in my heart for you, there's still insurmountable oceans between you and me tonight.

Happy 13th, you.

150 days.

I wrote you a song in my head. And it played out with your eyes looking into mine. That slow, casual, strut you took towards me, it made up the background score for that. For when you came close(r) to me and slid down the pillow, and I turned into you, so close that I could count every crease of your forehead and shirt, only there were none of the former and I added lots to the latter. The lyrics were perfect for when you eased into me and leaned in, for when you pulled me so close that there was no space for air between us and met my lips, purely because you couldn't wait any longer. You'd waited seven years after all.

The first verse played over our first pegs of vodka and the bridge covered the dressing up. But it was a never ending chorus as we walked out for a night together, and never looked back. Every step since then has been a song, a melody that we built together, the lyrics of which I wrote on my way to you but they never panned out until your touch met mine, your breath muffled mine.

I love you, not like they do in books or movies or plays. Because they seem to know what they're talking about. I don't. I love you like the unknown, the one still left to unfold. I love you like I love the first red rose I preserved in the pages of my favourite novel years ago, in the hope that some day I could take it out and hand it to someone who'd know what it meant for me to keep it all this while. I love you like I love the baby book that my parents made for me and I'd read and reread just because it made me see myself as someone who could be loved when I saw myself from their eyes. I love you like the first cassette I ever bought, and the lyrics of every song which it had that I memorised because suddenly I'd found something that completed me and made this universe make sense. I love you like like I love the last page of all my notebooks because that is where I scribble what I never have the courage to write out and then trace those words some lazy afternoon afterwards, knowing precisely what I felt back then and unknowing why I could never say it out.

I love you for I don't know any other way, I love you for I don't know what I'd do without it, I love you for I can't stop myself. I love you because I do.

Would you love me for the hell of it?

I like to think I'm just a call away from anyone who matters to me, or ever did. I don't particularly know what this says about me - the fact that even during a pandemic I have thought about her and him and you and everyone in between; wondered if you're all safe; ruminated about how I could support you. I obviously know better now so I don't actually reach out. I have make-believe conversations in my head instead.

Because it's only in songs and movies and sitcoms (damn you, FRIENDS for setting such unrealistically high standards of human behaviour) that people take the higher ground or the path less travelled by. In actuality, it's just so much easier to do the easier, more self-serving thing. To go on pretending that nobody else's feelings need to be important. I still always thought if the world was ending, you'd come over (albeit metaphorically). Right? 

So all this has really got me thinking - am I also on somebody's mind? Do you grapple with whether or not you should reach out? Do you lie awake at night thinking about my safety? Do you wish for my happiness like I wish for yours? Do you curse at the wind because it doesn't seem to carry messages from you to me? Does every change of weather do something weird to your insides? But it's been years now, and as much as I didn't want to I've figured out how to - how to let you go and let communication die out. 

Because the alternative was to drive myself insane waiting - for a text, for a call, for a sign - like I have time and time before. I've screamed and wailed and wept because I wouldn't get my way; not often, not rarely, not ever. I've raged, bruised and bargained with fate to just change this - to make conversations possible. Eventually, I've even learned to make my peace with never having any semblance of normalcy or of a shared past but just wished for an ability to look back at it without fear or doubt creeping in. I think, I think I've figured out now - how to think about you without it ripping my heart out.

It's slightly easier when the inevitable seeps into your conscious. When you judge patterns and discern what works for you in the longer run. When you (finally) understand that giving in to your need to reach out and be empathetic to everyone, all the time doesn't leave much room to protect you. I'm not one for destiny or fate but sometimes enough good happens for you to start believing that even the bad had a purpose//reason. I know, you know, we know, you weren't down for forever and it's fine. It's finally fine. Because with you, or him, or her - neither was I honestly. I just didn't want to admit it.

However does that have to mean we pretend the other doesn't exist? This one's for all of you. 
You were my childhood bestie, my crush, my first sacrifice, my best friend, my favourite brother, my whirlwind romance, my perfection, and I'm still carrying you all. 
I remember you all and find myself hoping you've found safety and comfort in these trying times.
But I'm pretty darn sure I haven't once crossed your mind. 

Because the world is ending and you haven't come over.
Right?

Riddle me this.

What is it about happiness that terrifies the crap out of me? Is it just that it's so fleeting that my guard is always up about it disappearing? Is it that Meredith Grey's quotes about pain are too deeply embedded in my brain? Is it Peyton's "People Always Leave" that has me constantly questioning my gut? 

Why am I surprised and disbelieving of happiness - almost as if I'm certain I don't deserve good things? Why am I so skeptical when somebody picks me? I keep looking for answers as to why they would and keep falling short. If someone can truly be with anyone, why would they willingly and knowingly choose an over emotional person with so much baggage? 

This cycle of questioning never ends and I keep looking for clues where there aren't any. I'll make comparisons just to feel inadequate and unworthy of you. I'll find the data to support my thesis that you deserve better and I shouldn't be standing in the way of that. I just wish it didn't feel as good as it does so I could walk away and let you find real beauty. Should I walk away regardless hoping that you find that perfect person (better on paper is also probably better for you in real life too) , all the while knowing that it will absolutely break me when you do.  

I have so many questions but the most gut wrenching and heart shattering one that keeps haunting me is this - why do you love me? Are you sure? 

I think you should know better. 
I think I should definitely know better. 

Hold your breath.

The chronology is crystal clear. The question is what sticks? The pattern or the hope? The self-destruction or the romantic optimism? Dare I dream? Dare I dream with you? I don't think I'm the one - for you, or for anyone. I may be beautiful, as you so often remind me. But these reminders will run out and all I'll remember is the hollowness and the void that your absence will leave in its wake. Why? Why am I so scared? I know what I feel and I know it is pure. What is this deep need for it to last and this unwavering doubt that it won't? 

People matter to me most and people screw me over the most - that much is certain. I allow for it is also evident. Is it because I don't believe I deserve love? Is it because I turn everything I touch to anti-gold? Is there no greater pattern and just a series of unfortunate coincidences? I'm terrified to find out the answer to this. Horrified out of my mind to actually come to know that I'm but an option, nothing extraordinary, nothing exclusive. Just an everyday mundane that makes those around her happy as per their convenience and then is easily forgotten.

Will you leave? Will you stay? Will I be forced to reevaluate myself through my life choices and my life experiences? Will the cynic win or the romantic? Is there any winning at all in a life and world as twisted as the one we currently live in? 

What am I doing here? I don't belong here.