Dear him #1

Dear him, 

This is not a love letter.
There are no words that are strong enough to hold the weight of all the things I feel for you.
This is a minuscule display, rather a trivial attempt to chronicle the thoughts that pour out my head. 

I tried to picture a life without you for the past 8 months and I couldn't. 

I read some where, that it takes an average human 7 minutes to fall asleep. And so I try to think of exactly 7 things, before I go to bed. But thinking about you and me needs more time, because 7 minutes, 7 hours, 7 months, it's all too little. I need 7 lifetimes, and I promise you just that. I haven't slept properly in 10 months (that's how long I've known you) but somehow, I don't mind it. At all.

We're both weird people who refuse to shut up, but when we're together, the world finally seems silent. I think I like the silence more than I like the sound of all the thoughts in my head that just refuse to leave. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you for giving me silence

You gave me something no human is capable of giving anyone else- you gave the strength of the stars before you left and the will to keep living regardless of how quickly the world around me is turning to dust. To run away. Not away from life, away from all that doesn't make it better. 

I'm glad we have so many photos together because one day, when my mind stops functioning and I need to remind myself who you are to me, I'll pick out prints from my memory box and stick them on every wall so that my world surrounds me.

Love always.

To the people who question the very purpose of their existence, like I do.

Here’s to the ones who are not brilliant. Here’s to the people who question the very purpose of their existence, like I do. To the ones who feel like they do not belong, to the ones who feel they were born in the wrong century, in the wrong galaxy. Those who are full of insecurities, worries, doubts and fears. Those who feel crippled with paranoia and trapped in a meat coated skeleton.
There are people like you and me, equally messed up, their souls equally complex and bruised.

They too spend Sunday afternoons gazing at clear blue skies, trying to connect to their real self, looking for something to free them, to save them, waiting for miracles while sipping coffee.
These people too are lost like you and me, their minds wandering aimlessly through forests and alleys, and places and countries,hoping to make sense of their own fucked up existence, hoping to be significant.

Trying desperately to love themselves with the self love they are told is the only cure, but failing miserably, horribly.
So, on those evenings when your body and soul seem like two separate entities, when you feel exiled from the home within your own heart. Know,I have been there too and it will be okay, it will get better.

It has to, right?

Credits: Kopal

Memory #1

The first memory I have of being incredibly sad is from when I was 9 and I was out with my friends trick-or-treating when I was told to wait in the park for five minutes, after which they’d come back to me. 

I waited an hour before I realised that they weren’t coming back. Or before I convinced myself they’d forgotten me. Either way, I was crying. Hysterically. Because for the first time in my life, I’d see someone hurting me. Purposely.

I did this to myself, I let you in and when you left, nothing mattered anymore. I broke my own heart loving you. Now, it's 3 in the morning and I love you more than I did in December.

Letting go

Then there are people like me, who can never let go. That is why we look for things and people that will always stay - no matter how many storms pass; no matter how many times we sink.
But slowly we learn that people go. There are no constants. 

It is just a theory.  People just like things, break. It took me 23 years to learn that.
So I made a jar of broken things. I collect everything that is broken but important to me, in it. Maybe, I ‘ve finally found a way of saving things that matter to me.
I wish I had a jar of broken people too.

Golden Flower

Picture Credits ; Aditya Saxena

I try to count the petals
Before you pull them apart
Flowers lose their heads
As they wager for my heart

Every flower is a gamble
Every petal is a thought
Will this one say I love you?
Or will it say I love you not?

Listen to the petals
They argue when they talk
One will say I love you
And the next I love you not

Some petals are poison
Every other is a lie
My love for you is something
A flower cannot decide

I picked you a golden flower
Whose petals argue not
One petal says I love you
And the next one says a lot