It's been hard for me, faking a smile. And I know there are a thousand others like me who are going through tough times, and the pandemic is only making it worse for them. I as a writer wanted to connect with all such people, to have and give a feeling that neither you, nor me, nor anybody is alone. We are always together, and I think it's time I appreciate you all who have always stayed with me. Let's all just stay strong like this, fake a smile, pretend to be happy, and then one day, we'll not be pretending anymore I don't know why I am doing this, but sometimes giving love is all you need to be happy. @mirakee@writersnetwork#pod#writersnetwork#mirakee
Been a long time since I wrote something, hope you like it. Maybe the lack of practice is evident, but I'm hoping to get back on track. This is just another chain of dark thoughts crossing my mind, considering the present war situations between different countries. I wish everything gets back to normal. Have a read, hope you like it! @mirakee@writersnetwork #mirakee#writersnetwork#pod
October is one of the most enchanting months in India. From the Navratras to Diwali, the chain of festivals give the nature a different allure. It's neither too cold, nor too hot; it's a perfectly pleasant weather. The wind starts to blow a little bit and everything seems to be surreal. And how can one forget the lovely powerful fragrance of Raat Ki Rani flower (Night-Jasmine) I get a different feeling in this month which makes October very close to my heart. As a result, I wrote this #mirakee#pod#writersnetwork#ceesreposts @mirakee@writersnetwork
Human expressions particularly address the possibility of tasteful experience. A tasteful encounter is one in which your faculties are working at their pinnacle when we are available in the current moment when we're resounding with the fervor of this thing that we are facing when we are completely alive.Writing encourages us make craftsmanship out of regular, normal moments.We write to find meaning. We write to discover new people ,to built new connection with them. Truth be told,I write to search for that reason of my existence as it's quite clear that life is never made terrible by conditions, yet simply by absence of importance and reason. Consistently, when we write we are making something. And afterward, with the snap of catch, we can impart it to the world.Humans have an implicit need to positively influence the world. We need to rejuvenate new things, to form things into the picture we have in our minds, to curb the earth. If I am being straightforward, i would concur that it is ideal to live for eternity. However, on the off chance that we can't live everlastingly genuinely, for what reason can't our memory live for eternity? This what i think when i write. To all the people out there keep writing..and share your ideas and your experiences.And thanks to "MIRAKEE" for giving me this platform to write.
The feeling of not being picked by somebody you need is a crappy inclination, it harms our hearts, it wounds our personalities, it makes us question that we aren't attractive by any means. Let's face it. Not being picked harms. Particularly when you're not picked by somebody you picked, somebody you saw a future with, somebody with whom you accepted to have a truly solid association.
We've all accomplished not being picked by somebody we needed. Perhaps they didn't need a relationship. Perhaps they were a truly gifted player who made them accept for a period that they needed us, just to confuse us. Whatever the purpose behind them not picking us, we traversed it. We licked our injuries, we recuperated, and we proceeded onward.
Yet, what's more regrettable than not being picked for the above reasons, isn't being picked in light of the fact that they picked another person. What's more, damn… that opens up a totally different ton of pain and uncertainty. That is something that regardless of how certain I am, or how hard I continually run after confidence, another person being picked over me makes me question such a great amount about myself. It makes me question all that I know. It shows up, my character, my humor and if in some cases I go too far excessively far. It makes me overanalyze exactly how we're being decided by expected accomplices, which makes me give little credit to what exactly truly matters… the strength of the association. It makes me question my judgment, the manner in which I get circumstances, and how I highly on fault in understanding individuals.
And this is the place where we battle. We battle with the obscure. We battle with the why. We battle with the unexplainable. With the way that regardless of the amount we think we know, how instinctive we think we will be, we battle in light of the fact that there is consistently the opportunity that we can be caught unaware, particularly infatuated. We need to surrender control of what it is we think we know, of what it is we think we comprehend. Since toward the day's end, regardless of how insightful we trust ourselves to be or the amount we think we think about connections, we won't ever have any screwing thought with regards to why individuals settle on the decisions they make. We won't ever truly know or comprehend why they don't pick us even after we've given such a large amount of ourselves to them, regardless of how secure we were figuring they would. In any case, perhaps shouldn't have the foggiest idea about these things. Possibly we should simply accept them as learning encounters and life exercises whose reason for existing is to help us develop, love ourselves, and not base our value on whether individuals pick us.
So how about we put in more effort to relinquish the deep yearning to know why. We should attempt to relinquish what isn't intended to be. Attempt to genuinely and intellectually let go of we can't handle and recall that the solitary thing we can really control is ourselves, our activities, and our decisions.
My parents go for morning walks. Everyday. They've been doing that for a while. And I've been joining them for a few weeks now because they think I need it for a better mental health. But, I usually take the path opposite to the one they take since it's less crowded and more peaceful. But today morning, for no particular reason, I went ahead with them. And I'm gonna share something I observed. Something that made me pause the music blaring through my headphones.
The first thing was that, God! Mom can talk. So much. Early in the morning. And that too about absolutely mundane and insignificant things. Things that might make me punch someone since I'm usually grumpy and sour in the morning. But, what was more surprising was that dad listened. Patiently. Curiously. It was so earnest that I almost thought he's faking it till I heard him giving his own inputs. And although they were pretty short, those inputs weren't "hmm, achcha and theek hai." XD
They talked about weather. About home. Grocery. Vegetable prices. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. They smiled at some acquaintances and then gossiped about them as they passed by, which I would have found cringeworthy had I not been so engrossed in eavesdropping.
And at one point, mom did something that almost made me facepalm. She pointed at a flock of pigeons feeding on grains and said to dad, "See, the leader pigeon is eating up everything and not letting others have any of it." And that wasn't even the end of it. My dad, who otherwise is a serious man with a very solemn persona, replied, "No. No. It's nothing like that. They're taking turns. They'll eat one by one."
And It wasn't even like they were being funny because no one was around. They were talking as if it was a completely normal conversation to have.
That made me think of the people I've cried over because they made me feel like I was too hard to love. The people I wasn't enough for. The people I was a mistake for. The people I was just another girl for.
Love really is simple, if you let it be. It can be the easiest thing possible.
Love, sometimes, is just a person you can discuss pigeons with. And that can be special enough. It doesn't have to be complicated. Why make it so?
So, wait, okay? Wait for the girl who'd discuss even the pigeons with you on days you have nothing to talk about. Wait for the man who'd reply to your pigeon talks as if it's the only normal thing to do.
Wait. Hold on. Take a deep breath in. There's too much love in this world. And we can all have our fill.