It's 2:00 in the morning and I can't sleep, everyone's kipping and it's all tranquil, but it's all chaos in my head, it wasn't supposed to end this way, you and me were so happy then, but you chose to stop because you found someone else, I wasn't enough? or maybe we're not meant to be, you left without an explanation , well now I'm searching for them in maybes and mightbes , and all I feel is useless and numb, no wound has ever cut me so deep, that it hurts even if it's a single breathe, tell me why you chose to stay, when everyone else had walked away, so you could push me right into the abyss , paint it white with your lies, adorn it with your handsome charms, looking for another prey? Pull me out of this lie called love, it stifles in here, but you don't seem to lend a hand, are you afraid that you'll be in here ?
I can see your tears behind that smile, I can see the pain you've been hiding for so long, I can see how much it hurts to be ignored, I can see how you miss being happy, I can see how bad you want to be cared , I can see how you're dying on the inside a little more everyday,
I can see how your pupils have changed into the shade of melancholy from joy,
how your eyes don't light up when you smile,
how you don't feel happy anymore when you listen to your favourite song,
I can see everything, for you and I are the same, I've been talking to my reflection, and my eyes tell me everything......
I just wanted to tell that from now on I'd write to myself under #ofc_ray_myself , when things get hard, when I'd feel low and when I want someone to say “hey I got your back” , “don't worry” and when I know there's no such person, I'd write to myself, more like a love note , something for myself,you might find it dumb but trust me idc. ✨
In a country where naked fakirs have turned rare But the thinking of those days have not Where periods are still not normalized Short, dark, and fat are not adjectives but insults Where millions are not even considered humans And are called Dalits with ease Where sexual harassment is met with doubts and enrages none But a girl's short dress does Where girls don't write enough And women achievements are forgotten in a moment Where cuckoos sing only to attract hunters And thus evolve to be dumb Where friendships are just a conversation away Sporting zero tolerance.
So how do I live?
By seeing the kiss Between a pen and paper In the hands of little girls Leading to immortal offsprings draped in stories of heroines who revolted some silently, some roaring.
In a country of deafening speeches of hate and discrimination. Let's start listening. To dalit men and women. To queer mates. To sexually abused men and women. To people with mental health issues, to those with physical disabilities. To those who have been displaced and oppressed for centuries. Let's celebrate women idols too.
WARNING : IF YOU'RE GOING THROUGH ANY PROBLEM OR DESPAIR OF ANY KIND, I HIGHLY SUGGEST NOT TO READ THIS.
DISCLAIMER : THE EVENTS IN THE STORY ARE TOTALLY FICTIONAL. IT HAS NO REALITY. PLEASE DO NOT IMITATE AT ANY COST.
~From the diary of someone who lived~
Dear loved ones,
At the age of 12 : It is causing pollution; I mean that vehicle; that one, of the advocate uncle near my house. It is noisy like him. Last day, you know, he came to my house and told my parents that I eat snacks from the tea stall. Why did he tell 'em this? Or just this? I ate because I felt hungry by the end of 7 hours 57 minutes of study at school. And now I'm hungry again. Mom scolded me ninety nine times and the hundredth time, was father's. He slapped me and my cheek touched the floor. I am left starving today. Should I go to that stall again? I looked at the mirror and my cheek looked as if my mouth is full, with food. But it wasn't. It was full of pain. May be it did hit too hard when he slapped me. I didn't notice. As soon as I fell down, what I noticed was my face reflecting in the framed mirror kept on a corner of the room. I was looking splendid in the pale dry teary face. I was wearing a coat and I couldn't see clearly, was it blue? My spectacles had already broken into pieces. But why had he wanted to tell my parents about me eating snacks? I hate him. That is why, yes, his vehicle is polluting. I am a student. But a human too.
Until the age of 14 : I had a very strong shield of positivity around me. It never let anyone pierce their negative opinions or emotions into me and I was living in a dream world.
At the age of 15 : The severity of negativity increased drastically. I am now a bit grown up, so I am supposed to listen to the society. That is how you explained. But, I tried to keep the shield of my positivity strong. The more you sprinkled negativity on me, the more stronger I made my positivity. And the more I made it positive and strong, the more you tried to pierce into my shield.
By the age of 16 : You made holes in my shield and negativity started streaming in directly to me. I used one whole year to fix it. There were a few holes initially. While fixing one hole made by family, the hole made by friends became wide and while working on the hole made by friends, the hole made by society got wide. At the end of an year, I lost the whole shield. I had to prepare myself to face all the negativity.
At the age of 17 : When you all expected me to get weaker than anyone on earth, I came back with full strength. Your negativity could, in no way, catch me. I kept on jumping and you could never catch me. That was the final year at school and what happened later on, shocked me.
After school : I wanted to choose literature, but I am asked to do engineering. Everyone's blaming me. Everyone. Even my parents. They are blaming me for scoring bad in my practice tests, mock papers and test series. They blame me for sleeping till 11 AM in the morning. They keep that alarm ringing near my tympanum and it wakes me up. But I get up feeling dizzy and my cerebellum burns in pain. Often, I feel like my heart has got displaced to the right cerebral hemisphere, because I feel the lub-dub there on most days. And it is not exactly similar to, when the heart pumps. When it is your heart, it is beautiful when it pumps. We feel energetic and zestful. But when it is your brain that is making this effect, it is painful. It feels like all my bones are getting broken. I am no more capable to suffer this. That is why I wake up after 11 AM. But they wake me up, still, at 3 AM and lets me sleep only at 11 PM.
Three weeks before : I was shocked when I woke up and saw it was 1PM. My parents had gone out for some urgent meeting and they missed to keep the alarm on.
Two weeks before : When all my family was here, they made fun of me for this odd habit. They called me lazy and dumb. When I uttered the word "hypersomnia", they laughed like beasts. I returned to my room and unlike always I laughed too. I didn't know why? Have I started being happy in negativity?
One more week before : I spent a whole night awake. It was dark and I opened the curtains. I felt lonely because I missed my guitar. I had one that I used only in my dreams. It used to be hung so beautifully on my wall. Recently, in my dreams, I have noticed that it isn't there. I miss it a lot. I didn't want to feel lonely again and I didn't sleep.
Two days before : I was in deep sleep and was dreaming. I was playing guitar and my organic chemistry textbook tried to snatch it from me. Abruptly, I woke up from the sleep. I sat on my bed and I wasn't feeling sleepy at all. I drank a glass of water and rearranged my blanket to sleep again when someone knocked the door! Who was it this midnight? "Come in" I gently replied to the third knock. "It is locked from inside. Open it." That was a soothing voice. I looked carefully. The door is locked. But I didn't move a bit. Instead I repeated "Come in". So that someone opened the door and came in. She was all black. I couldn't see her face at all. Sheer black. Like a shadow. Her hair seemed long and tied to a pony. She said her name was music. She talked to me. I had turned on the table lamp, but still she looked like a mere shadow. "Why is your name Music?" I asked at some point. She looked at me. Still. "What?" I shrugged. "So you don't love me?" She asked. Her tone was low. "What?" I repeated, this time in a high tone. "I gave you a guitar too. Where is it?" "It is missing." I didn't even know I had one. No. It was true that I didn't have one at all. When did she give me? I get guitars only in dreams. This was real world. What did she mean? She mentioned that she will replace it soon and left. She said may be I had given it to her some day and both of us forgot it. I have never even met her before. We talked for hours, and I've not seen her face at all. She was a mere shadow.
This day : Thank goodness that remained only for a day. My guitar appeared in my dream again for the next few days. Today, I got scolded by my parents and one of my uncles, because I have started behaving odd. They scolded me badly for behaving weird. Mother had started crying and she shouted at me. They blamed me for wearing a weird smile each time they scolded. I guess it's been only since the night in which I dreamt of the missing guitar. The guitar reappeared, but they said that I had been smiling weirdly, especially when something bad happens. They said that yesterday, I slipped on the road when I got badly hit by a scooter. But I didn't feel it at all? I didn't feel any pain. I remember staying in the hospital and the nurse cleaning my wound. The bandage is still there. They said I was smiling when the doctor was treating me and I kept on repeating "Guitar... Guitar... Guitar... Guitar..." Who knows of it? Who knows what I was doing? I don't remember feeling any pain.
But at night, I started feeling a bit. Just a bit and I was about to cry and shout. This was the second night of my life, when I am awake. Someone knocked the door. I was little curious to know who it was, but jumped from bed, with fractured legs and opened the door. It was her. My elder sister. She was smiling at me. "Didn't you sleep?" She asked me. I bursted out to tears. Where was she all these days when I suffered real pain? I cried because, in a whole life-time, this was for the first time that someone cared to ask me about my sleep. She came in and took me to the balcony of my room. It is a small space with green plants and a splendid view of the moon. We both had enough space to sit there, or maybe, the space was enough only to fit two. I took my cozy blanket and my sister closed me in that. We talked a lot. Way more. I felt happy and excited. I felt relieved. She told me the way to escape and I asked for how to stay in touch with her, because she was a doctor and always busy, one or the other way. At midnight she left my room. She didn't bid adieu. What for? This was the happiest night I ever had. And she has welcomed me to her new home secretly.
At midnight, I will be shifting. Our house was three storeyed and my room was on the second floor (topmost storey). I will have to move from there without making a noise. My parents shouldn't know. She said she will be waiting downstairs. I opened my room's door. I looked back once. Wait, that guitar? It's real? No, I haven't bought one ever. Then what is it doing here? Came from my dream to the real world to say "I will miss you too if you go" ? Whatever. I grabbed it and closed my room. Once I reached the window of our living room on the same storey, I peeped out. She waved her hand. Yes, she is waiting downstairs outside the gate. I reached the stairs and climbed up. I reached the terrace. The sidewalls weren't that tall. So I climbed on top of one. The breeze slowly blew and the moon was looking gorgeous. I looked downwards and I was excited. She was waving her hand again. I smiled and slowly ungripped my feet from the sidewall. My sister gracefully welcomed me to her world, to which she had left two years before, when she died in an accident.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- //PAST// Past was a stained photograph that I still hide in a tainted box kept in a dark room where i refuse to enter again. I haven't experienced much but it seems like its been such a long journey and my past speaks for it. What I was then and what I am now, it all got changed a lot. I was the same for some, maybe but changed for many.
There were phases when I used to laugh in tears it all sounds a fairy tale now as now no more laughing tears resides in these blurry eyes having tears just of pain. I grab the pen to ink something positive but it just scribbles pain nothing else.
What should I call my past? Good or bad? Was I good then or now? I suffer searching such questions that crosses my heart like a sharp knife.
Whenever I sit in silence at the roof staring the sky, my soul gets departured to a place called "somewhere between past and present."
Soo this new topic that I wrote: & I hope this will like it all by you .. and I will do more parts of it.. If you like this, then pls let me know. Thank you for your love and support. If you like it, then you must repost it❤️ #akkudiary