Tuesday, 29 December 2015

Of freckles and slippers.

                                                                                                     
There you are.

All of you. 

Here I am. 

How were the last six months, he asked. Long, I thought to myself. 

How were yours. Blank. He said. 

Years until I see you again. 

P.S.
On the way back home, I saw a newly opened store of clothes. 
Each cloth has a different name written on it. 
And the shop keeper waits, till the different name bearers keep coming.


“You’re not sorry to go, of course. With people like us our home is where we are not… No one person in the world is necessary to you or to me.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise


Sunday, 20 December 2015

Who is she.



Am I the reflection that the mirror shows, and the darkness that those eyes find in them? 

Am I the girl who probably has commitment issues, since he died?

Am I the one who left the party that night at 2 AM and sitting on the staircase cried her eyes out 'cause no matter what she did, she couldn't save her brother?

Am I the one who believes in accepting the truth, but sometimes fixes herself with coatings of lies?

Am I the happy one, who was sitting across the painting of a car in that bar and thinking of going back in time?

Am I the one who recently got her test scores and rejoiced at the thought of one day, doing something right for the world?

Am I who would give herself away, but never let others down, no matter who they were? 

Am I the girl who didn't need a second thought to leave the city, the people, when she couldn't find peace?

Am I the one this body contemplates to be in the coming future?

Am I me? 


Friday, 4 December 2015

An ode to dead ends and beginnings.


and then he said lets break each other beyond repair. Till there's nothing left of us.  

Lets fall in love beyond limitations and then leave, to never come back to each other. 





When she opened her eyes, she realized that nothing was everything she needed. And in being broken, she found herself.

P.S.
Some dreams are about waking up.

Monday, 9 November 2015

Truth to me and you.

We’re temporary people with permanent lives, I don’t know how far into this you’ll agree with me, but we’re temporary, but our lives are permanent. And frankly, you quoting 45 or 50 doesn’t make sense to me, ‘cause age doesn’t define love, never did, never will. For those of us who truly fall into love, time ceases to exist as a concept, time and again this has been shown, they didn’t need to be 20 to fall in love or 40 for that fact, emotionally speaking our understanding of love is not conditional to time or place.

I agree when you said that there are levels to a relationship, I agree that they reach there in due course of time, however for those of us who live in the moment, falling in love becomes living in love each instant. So, for me, when I look at you, I see you and me together right now, and as I blink my eye, I see the years to come within the same vision. You will never be more important to me than my own existence, however in my head, your existence and mine stand at par. I respect yours as much as I love mine, and so if either of the two ceases to exist, it will break me for a while, but like I said before, ‘cause we’re infinite beings I’ll teach me to exist without you and you’ll do the same (I have learnt this in due course of time), it doesn’t mean that I’ll love you any less right now. No matter how practical you try to sound when you say you can’t love me, I’ll not block me from loving you. You can keep seeking your reasons, that’s your reality, I’m choosing to define mine by consciously choosing to love you. Frankly when you said that it takes years for people to reach that stage, I’d say they take a lot of time in truly understanding how they feel, and it’s a disadvantage for them (or maybe not, that’s for them to see).

Also, when you said that you don’t think its important to find the other half cause you don’t think that a thing like that exists, I felt slightly sad for you. But then again, that’s your reality. I’ve always felt like we’re all halves or quarters or one millionths, and our parts are the ones around us. Especially that version where you look for the half convinces me, be it when i see my parents or my grandparents, they’re like yin and yang, they complete each other. You said that there’s no pre-defined person waiting for you, it could be true, it could be true for me or for you, maybe cause they’re around or maybe cause you’ve closed your eyes. Part of me believes there’s fun in finding things, so I’ve always been trying to find that one person, and frankly, when I lost S, I lost my faith in the existence of the other half and hence the years of depression (I wouldn’t question how much you believe in it, that’s your story, but I can’t ever explain it- this follows Joseph Conrad’s understanding of the world where he says that I will never ever be able to explain my version of reality, ‘cause only I’ve experienced it, alone). But I fixed me. I looked for answers, read a lot, and found my truth which said that there are so many more other halves, ‘cause we’re all basically parts of one whole, so we’re all in this together, this was my fix. I started looking at the world in a different light. I understand your practical take on life when you talk about people randomly meeting, finding common traits and just simply living together. But this doesn’t negate my impractical *read MAGICAL take on life, where I believe we’re unbelievably blessed and everything’s Magic! So my take on losing S was the world trying to teach me a lesson of understanding loss and then to help me rebuild myself. My take on finding you was the universe fixing things for me. I don’t expect you to understand it, however, ‘cause we’ll always have a different take, I’d wish you respect mine.

As far as your priorities are concerned, the first thing I think that made me fall for you was the fact that you love yourself. ‘cause I believe that’s the most important thing, that’s where the very understanding of love begins from. So, I had to teach me to love myself (and not hate- I know you don’t think the two are different things, but trust me they are). And guess what, I did, to such an extent that now, there’s no going back. I love myself beyond every form of love I’ve experienced and so far, on that account we’re pretty similar.

As far as your priority on love in your life is concerned, I’d say please go forth with your flings and things you think are important. I told you a million times, you’re to never feel like you’re trapped, trust me that’s the last thing I can afford. So, even if you’re considering leaving all you need to do is blink your eye. You don’t have to care about the rest. Or for that fact, being with someone else.

Lastly, you don’t have to tell me that you love me when you don’t. I understand, and only seek your truth. I’m really glad you gave me your truth.

“You can love somebody without it being like that. You keep them a stranger, a stranger who's a friend.” 
― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's


Tuesday, 13 October 2015

amor vincit omnia.


Circumscribing herself with everything she thought was her cluster of happiness, she kept looking for the one thing she couldn't find.

She had it all, everything she thought she needed.

Is all you need defined by what you think you need?

Sometimes there is an incompleteness, and you don't know what is it that could fix it. 

Few days later.

Sitting across a coffee mug was a boy in a black t-shirt, with the smile of a movie star. 
He did his hair right.
He wouldn't speak too much, just carry along with her conversations. 
He would often straighten up, especially when he had a point to make.

He could keep up with her intense sarcasm, without crossing the lines in between.

After a while.

As they left the movie theatre after not concentrating on the movie at all, she looked at him and saw that the missing puzzle had found its block. 



"If I give you up, to whom I'll go?"
―Rumi
P.S.
There's more to life than fixing oneself.
Sometimes, fixing is about forgetting the very existence of everything-not-fine.

Thursday, 1 October 2015

there's truth in my lies.

Being broken inside makes you incomplete outside. 

No, she didn't look for flaws anymore, she had moved past them. This time she started being scared of her lies, 'cause they were now telling the truth.

It was like she was compromising with a part of herself, to make peace with the other half. 

But couldn't she realize that part of her would still be broken?

Not that she didn't like him. 

She knew he wasn't hers to keep. 

She was yet again doing the same thing, breaking herself, different piece at a time. 


“If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread on top of it.” 
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


Saturday, 19 September 2015

'cause she wore rose colored glasses.


She lied asleep at night, thinking about all the beautiful things that she'd give to the little one inside her.

Few months later, after the little one was born,  they told her that she won't live to see the daughter growing up.

She could give up, thinking about all the pain that she was going through. But she wasn't alone in this, she loved him too much to leave him behind and the little one was now a part of them.

They say the will is stronger than physical strength.

Few days ago, she told me that we should talk about this more often, there's hope there's dreams, and if there's faith, we could make it through.

More importantly, we should look at the reasons.

Quite a while ago, when she was a little girl, she wore her Dad's coat after he came from work. She felt safe in it. 
Years later, after Lily was born, they told her that the coat being covered with asbestos gave her Mesothelioma. 

She has fought their verdict of surviving for a few days, by taking it across the ten year mark.
We're with you in this Heather.

We'll fight this together.

"I can undoubtedly say that I'm caged by my body, but my mind is free and so is my soul and so is my spirit. I can still dream big. I can still think big. I can still aim high. I can still aspire to inspire."
— Muniba Mazari


Thursday, 10 September 2015

More than Flesh and Bones.


Its difficult to admit that most of our lives have essentially been running around the way we thought we looked in front of the world.

This morning I woke up with the thought of fixing body image issues.

What matters so much more than those people judging you and telling you you're not good enough is what you do.

I've been less skeptical about my work or relationships or anything else for that matter.

This week when I was to give a presentation on Corporate Reconstruction Laws, all that kept pulling me down was the thought that I don't feel as confident about my body as I used to.

The way the criticism is dealt with is not appreciable.

It pushes a person down, the effect is not just mental. Judgement reduces focus on important things, and brings the spirit down.

Appreciating what we've got and the way we've dealt with the problems is crucial. It's necessary we look past a few little dark patches and acknowledge the large bright ones.

To a certain extent the drive to write in a platform without identity attachment (here) was to prevent people from judgement when they read the content.

I think its not our fault. We've been growing up in an era of better connectivity and this has meant that our Facebook profile picture says more about us than we in person. I think its time we reconsidered the questions on what really matters.

I'm glad people have started realizing it.


“I seem to myself, as in a dream,
An accidental guest in this dreadful body.” 
― Anna Akhmatova


P.S.

Everyday now brings me to the same point. Choose your battles. Make better Choices. Prioritize.

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

Southpaw.


Do we not understand that our conception of what is right and what is not could differ from that of other?

Do we not at times victimize ourselves?

How do we look at the other person whom we subject to physical fights- do we not see that most often who faces such fights hides the face of the other person being beaten up, do we not dehumanize the other person for a bit, and see ourselves as liberators?

Do we ever think about thinking through the situation, trying to decode the point of misunderstanding? 

Do we not ultimately aim to make the other person understand our version of the reality? 

Could we not fix this, like everything else. 

If only. 

If only we could be at both of those places, the one about Beating the other person, and the one of about being Beaten up. 

Then I believe we could see, that not everything is worth the loss. 

Because both of those are hurt here. not just one. 

"Some people are as fragile as butterflies and sensitive and it’s your responsibility not to destroy them. Just because you can." 
—Marisha Pessl, Special Topics in Calamity Physics 


Wednesday, 26 August 2015

The scariest stories.

Its a difficult world for you, when you're a normal kid. You grow up and see that the world's a rat race, they're competing for everything, from those onions facing price hike to the overarching prices of brands. This is when you've gotten it all, and yet you've cried 'cause you never thought anything was enough.

But wait a minute. This began when you were a normal kid.
So, what happens to those who aren't normal? The ones with what they now call as issues. 
Just imagine what they get to face.
This kid who couldn't make the uniform sizes of letters, was told he was dyslexic. He was given shocks and medicines.
This other kid who couldn't differentiate between truths and lies; real and unreal worlds was told he had schizophrenia. He was drugged till he was shattered. Result- he fumbles when he speaks, and the reality hasn't changed much for him.
This new kid that I found out about recently was told she's a kleptomaniac. I don't know what they'd do with her. But to begin with, they've started off with the blame game.

I've been trying to figure out, what is it that the normal people don't understand about these people. Oh wait, they don't try to understand. For them, the story ends when they see that she stole their stuff. They don't realize that this needs special attention, cause this didn't happen once or twice, wasn't just about the clothes or money. But for them the story ended when they saw that their stuff was stolen.

If only, they had the heads to see, that there's more to the world than the things that they owned, that these people are as much a part of their society as they are. But no, they believe that the solution lies in throwing the ones with issues away. Yes, that's what they told me today.

I think this takes me back to those times that I faced as a kid, with my brother teaching me to steal things, or lie, or throw stones at people. But wait, I didn't do that 'cause I thought I shouldn't. He did that because he couldn't understand how to draw the line between what he felt is right, and what's actually right.

So, what about the rest of you who think you're normal, and don't understand that not everyone is? So, you think this couldn't happen to anyone of you? Just 'cause you've been lucky enough to be born sane, you can throw the rest of them out?
Go ahead. Remember that what goes around, comes around.

How many times will I have to tell you that the problem is not solved by just looking at your part of the story, but the story as a whole! Oh wait, you told me you don't care. I think that says everything about you being normal. Now I understand what you understand when you say that you're normal.


Monday, 24 August 2015

Do you remember me?


As she woke up to the smell of incense in her room, her eyes were clouded. 
There were apparitions she felt  around her, like the darkness was gone, yet the shadows remained. 
She pushed harder to open the covers of those eyes, and it felt like something was resisting it. 
That's when she felt that someone was sitting on the bed, right next to her. 
He was staring at the other side of the room. She sat on the bed, trying to understand whether or not she was dreaming. 



Friday, 14 August 2015

100 told stories.

Every story has more than just itself in it. It carries with it, the essence of a time, a place, and for each a different emotion and understanding.

Stories have changed my life, and I hope that we all find what we seek -sometimes, in our stories, sometimes, not. Stories in stories, stories in poems, they all spoke to me.

This is an ode to those 100 posts that changed my world, and every reason that each one of you gave, to justify things.

Thank you Blogger and the Blogger family for this beautiful world.

Here's one of my favorites.

I was the type of a person, that held onto things too tight, 
unable to release my grip when it no longer felt right, 
and although it gave me blisters and my fingers would all ache, 
I always thought that holding on was worth the pain it takes. 

I used to think that in losing things, I'd lose part of me too,
that slowly I'd become someone, my heart no longer knew. 
Then one day something happened, I dropped what I once held dear, 
but my soul became much lighter, instead of being filled with fear.

and it taught my heart that some things aren't meant to last for long, 
they arrive to teach you lessons, then continue on. 
You no longer have to cling to people, who no longer make you smile, 
or do something you've come to hate, if it isn't worth your while.

that sometimes what you're fighting for, 
isn't worth the cost
and not everything you lose, 
is bound to be a loss. 

-Erin Hanson 



Wednesday, 29 July 2015

#AnotherDayinParadise



Its a quest for reasons to stay, among reasons to leave. 

I thought I could convince myself otherwise, that 'being alive' is living a dream.

But sometimes, they throw you back to the quarter, where you feel that you're better off in those dreams.

Am I scared 'cause they've made this place a world of ghosts? No.

Am I happy 'cause this  is a beautiful place? No. 

Have they taught you too to ignore part of it, and keep moving blindfolded?

I cannot be in the middle of what just is, and is not just. 

These are two shores, either you're here, or you're there. 

You cannot be on both of those, that's not a way out. 

But whoever sails through, goes through the river. 

And just as all the rivers are, this one treats  you like you're special. 

Isn't that everything you had always wanted? 

Welcome to the world. 


“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.” 
―Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Sunday, 12 July 2015

Take me home.

On one hand, the reality screamed faithlessness.
They smoked hash, and penetrated in the world within.
Like escaping reality, finding the truth, they called it.
Like the winds felt true, like truly the world knew.

On the other, I met my brother.
He was always in this world.
Like his reality was always true.
Engulfed within, science and universe exploding!

But they disapproved,
 reverse-drugged him,
gave him shocks to bring him back to what they believed was the truth.
The one they approve.

Who is to say,
 what is real?
Is it she who’s dreaming in hash of escaping within?
Or he, who lives within, and is being forced to be normal?

Who could ever define,
 Anything for that matter?
Even the definition of matter, is nothing but partial truth.
How much of what they say is ‘matter’, do you believe it actually is?

How am I to decide, who am I to choose to love?
The one who loves me back, unconditionally,
And cannot control himself?
Or the one who has always loved me, controlled me, and made me the human they wanted to see?


This brings me back
 to the yang part of reality.
The one that’s darker,
Faded, twisted and self-destructing.

Escaping seems like the exit,
Like, it could set me free.
But they told me there’s no freedom,
Not until you’ve fought it through.

Doesn’t the black hole
Take it all within and save the world?
Or isn’t the ever expanding universe
Throwing us farther away from each other?

How are we to choose?
 Which one is true or real?
Or aren’t these words ‘truth’ and ‘reality’,
Incomplete versions of everything we’ve ever wanted them to be.



The sound of my thoughts is much louder than my voice, much bigger than my head.
They break loose frolic around the room chanting the anthem of my doom.
-Unknown

Saturday, 4 July 2015

22 reasons to survive.

They told me many stories, some told me better human to be, some told me to be careful. 

So should be scared 'cause the one who stays downstairs and says he loves me, is a psychopath? 
Or should I love him back, and expect to be killed one day in the near future?

Should I be happy 'cause I've worked too hard all these years, earned myself more than I could've ever dreamt about?
Or should I cry, 'cause I couldn't do anything to save the one I loved, while he lied dying on the road?

Should I smile 'cause this boy I recently met showed me reasons to be happy?
Or should I sit back and wonder about the zillion reasons it won't work out between us?

Should I tell her that I love her, she's more than my sister to me? 
Or grieve 'cause she's leaving too?

Should I be happy cause this time what I learnt, told me I could be greater than I look in my dreams?
Or should I cry 'cause the path will make me distant from the ones I love too much?

Should I be happy 'cause I wanted to leave, and now I'm away?
Or should I cry 'cause I'm away?


I don't like being in the middle anymore.
But, somehow that has always been my home. 

“I am here.
My mind is not doing the trick anymore.
I am here. There goes your explanation. 
It comes with a presence.
It is honest.
It sings.”
— Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems: Presence

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

Tell me your dreams.


Step back and see,
How the world will be.
If you weren’t here,
And the darker skies were clear.

Would the sun still rise the way it does,
Or will the moon deny its scars.
Will they forget the lies we told?
Will they still act so cold?

Will she still sing those songs?
Thinking she could undo those wrongs.
Will there be another set of believes?
And the poets could stop being thought-thieves?

Will there be a shining ahead
Or will the hatred still keep itself bred
Will you and I still meet?
And this time with love, we’d greet?

Will this time, you’d hold back for a while.
And not tell me, that we’re living in denial.
Will there be, no lies or truths,
Just our little hearts and their wraths.

Will you and I still look at the sky,
Then look each other in eye,
Without breaking the glance,
The un-romantic romance.  

Will I find in your eyes,
What I’ve wanted to see.
A glare to hold on to,
Not a deception to be.

Or yet again, will you leave?
Telling me it’s mine, whether or not to believe.



Tuesday, 16 June 2015

If cigarettes could cure sadness.

If cigarettes could cure sadness, 
and the world could sing a lullaby.

If monsters could be unreal,
and angels could fly.

If Pandora hadn't opened the box of troubles, 
and in people we could rely.

If the sun wouldn't set each night,
and people didn't say goodbyes.

If, if only this could be fixed,
and this wasn't a lie. 







Sunday, 14 June 2015

Changing gears.

Waking up to the smell of alcohol and smoke, she made a mental note to begin again.

this time, from the scratch.



Friday, 29 May 2015

Saving you in a mad world.

There are times, you hit the rock bottom;
and there are times when you're on the top of the heap.

I hope you never forget that it's okay to be on either sides.
There's no perfection, but there's the idea of it.
Somewhere in the middle of both of those you'll always be.
And when you hit the sides, don't be scared, just be free.



Friday, 22 May 2015

Leaving home.


Wagging tails, 
comfortable beds, 
cooked food, 
made up rooms.

Smiling mother, 
silence of father, 
rebel sister. 

Until we meet again. 

"Love is neither personal nor impersonal. Love is love, not to be defined or described by the mind as exclusive or inclusive. Love is its own eternity; it is the real, the supreme, the immeasurable."
—Aldous Huxley

Wednesday, 13 May 2015

Thankyou for the memories.


I've said goodbyes before. 

It has always come down to the fact that you can't say a goodbye without a tear being shed. 

This isn't easy. 

do you love me enough to let me go. 

For me, it comes down to this question, and then I can't stop me or anyone from leaving. 

If its love, it never is a final goodbye, even if it sounds like one.

I don't know maybe, but as for now, this seems right. 

This time, there are no excuses, no reasons to leave or to stay.

Just one sufficing it all, I want to leave. 

Thank you for understanding, and for the memories.

“Anyway, you can't leave her like that. You can't do that to the woman. She doesn't deserve it; nobody does. You don't belong to her and she doesn't belong to you, but you're both part of each other; if she got up and left now and walked away and you never saw each other again for the rest of your lives, and you lived an ordinary waking life for another fifty years, even so on your deathbed you would still know she was part of you.” 
― Iain Banks

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

Moving Out.



Its strange to see yourself trapped in times.

I don't think it needs a physical place to feel trapped.  It is what is inside.


All this time, when I was feeling trapped, I kept myself assured that I'm looking for a way out.

There is a way out, I shall find it if I worked hard enough in looking for it.


Here it is.

I've always felt like there's a skin that separates the ones who're happy and fine from those who've been through the worst and are stuck in it.

I've always wanted to cross that threshold, I've believed in me. I've believed in knowing that there's a world waiting for this version of me that I've dreamt about.


And, here I am. 


Thankyou beautiful world. You've been kind.

I am exceptionally grateful. 







Sunday, 19 April 2015

Breaking apart.


If words could do justice, they'd not exist by now. 

Sometimes, we hit the rock bottom, and don't bounce back.

Its like being stuck there. 

I feel I'm trapped in me. Hating is point one per cent of what it feels like.


Sometimes, when there's losing hope, it feels like the dead end, like you could end it right here. 



Sunday, 12 April 2015

Lost stars.


He was great for her.


But she couldn't be with him.


Sometimes reasons are not needed.


Its about things we don't know about.


Maybe stars.



Tuesday, 31 March 2015

Holdin' on and letting go.

I don't like the phase I'm going through.

A part of me is in love, but there's a broken part of me which wouldn't let me.

So, I've been playing hide and seek with a part of myself.

And this means everyday battles within.


When the winds are stronger and the heart's pumping faster,

its worse.

A part of me, wouldn't let me look at him, even when I think I like him,

and a part would just suffer, even when I've tried helping it.






Monday, 16 March 2015

Thursday, 12 March 2015

Dreamin' Pink!

Wake up little heart, see what I found. 

Not yet Daddy, it's too early!

No sweetheart, look how bright the sun is, and there's music in the winds.

Okay. *Rubs the curved hands over her eyes*

See, how beautiful this is! *shows a picture of Christ the Redeemer*

Daddy, lets go for a long drive and see this place!

*Laughs* We'll do that someday sweetheart! 


10 years later.



She stands close to the statue of Christ the Redeemer, and thinks how her father kept his promise.

He let her go, and chase her dreams.

She found them, only to realize, that she wanted him to be a part of it.



Sunday, 1 February 2015

To love.

He's been gone for a while now, 5 years. Things have changed too much, some in good ways and some in ways I found hard to accept. But only one thing remained.

You. I am gonna tell you more than just a story, look deeper, it will all be for you.

It began when I was little, I fell in love with you and I secretly knew you did too.

I used to love the stars, how we would gaze at them and always find something new.

How I could go miles across the sea, look beneath the trees and still find you.

How every story that crossed my mind, every new theory I aligned, would circle around you.

How the world paved a way, for all these little things to stay in a mosaic, defining you.

By the time I realized what had happened, you took my hand into the beauty only seen by a few.

How you played with nature, devised rainbows, and made all my dreams come true.

It was always like you were secretly listening, hearing me sing or caressing me when I cry, or buying me a new shoe!

Then you'd wrap it in different ways, pass it on through my sister and paint it blue!

You took care of me, made me find what I wanted to see and even found me boys like you.

But you forgot, no one, no thing, no belief, could ever replace you.

Here's telling you, no matter how far you may be, and how different things would probably be, I am still too much in love with you.


P.S.
I wish everyone could get to see, someone as beautiful as you.


Friday, 30 January 2015

flow with me through the yin and yang.

I've always thought that there are two voids.

Two worlds inside.

A heaven and a hell. They both exist beside each other, and at a time, we can only live within one.

While we're in one, we cannot believe that the other one exists either.

While I was happy, I couldn't imagine this could happen.

Now that it has happened, I can't believe I could be so happy.


I think I was chasing the 'knowing'.

Not that I know, its different.


I wish for you peace within wherever you choose to exist, I hope you realise that it is all about the transition, it's not a destination. Neither of them.


Sending love from across the oceans; sooner, I'm beginning, the oceans are calling!


P.S.
Some nights you will feel like there are a thousand galaxies exploding in every inch of you, and you are burning too bright to ever be looked at directly,
and some nights you will feel impossibly small, like your whole body could slip through the spaces between atoms and never reappear in the world again,
and some nights you will feel like a paper doll, carefully crafted and easily blown away, fragile, too delicate to ever be touched, 
and some nights you will feel like each cell in your body is made of strength that holds the whole planet together,
and that is okay, because you are made of stardust and minuscule atoms and breakable bones and the building blocks of everything in the universe, and you are too alive to never feel anything more than human.




Friday, 16 January 2015

Dream on, little one!

Working too hard for things we want bring us to a point, where we find those things.

This is finding it, the dream.

Here, I take the first step in the newer world that awaits me.





He had said-

It'll be tough, too tough maybe, but it'll be worth it. He used the word 'struggle'. 

All the efforts will start making sense, when the doors start opening.


P.S.

Thank you, yes you. For your presence, in my life.
You're responsible for these beautiful miracles.
Also, I am proud of me.
Most importantly, I get to do this with my best friends. It couldn't get better.