"So it all started that day, The day us became me and her. Actually it was way before that. It comes in bits and pieces. It's like ocean waves , you see You just have to stand still and Bad memories they just wash up to your feet, And then they leave."
"I was numb, Probably after shock or something, I went on with my life as usual It was normal , upto until that one day Some 7 days after she was gone. It hit me, She is not coming back not this time. I went to my room and I was like You never cry, idiot. No you don't "
"It was late , too late The tears, they were already flowing. That day I cried like an infant. I thought they will stop after 5 minutes I'll just wipe my eyes and ready for another day."
"There are days when everything go on smooth. And then there are those days when Everything that's not supposed to happen Happens. Mumma never saw me crying Not like this. She just sat next to me, Held me in her arms."
"I the lifeblood of my family, I am pretty sure my parents live by just looking at me. And there I was staining her yellow saree which papa brought as a gift, with my never ending tears. She didn't ask me anything . Which was strange. She just held me It was comforting And also making me cry more."
"Its okay, beta You had your run. Its okay if she is no more in your life. She was , that is important The happiness she gave you, That is important "
" my tears stopped. I never really thought I will Hear this from my mumma. I was beyond shocked Petrified. My tears well they are gone. I don't sob. I don't cry either. But then I did anyway"
"You see that was the last time and the first time I cried for her. And that's it. I am not smiling now, To be honest I haven't smiled in a long time. But I lived And I am still living That is important, I guess that's what I think"
"Aren't you the shrink? Aren't you supposed to give me some Real deep insight?"
" only one. Are you feeling good now, mohit ? After saying all of that"
" yeah, I feel good."
" next Friday , Same time"
"I still think you charge too much though"
" I live by everyone's trauma at the same time. It takes a good amount of mental energy To do what I do"
Ever been heartbroken so much That the first thing that comes in your mind Is to write funny things.
You see, Mind is a weird place. The emotions it display sometimes Are far from generic, You do impulsive things Take rash decisions For what???
Because you are sad, heartbroken , angry And can't help yourself but to feel depressed And lonely.
Nope, It's a desperate attempt to smile again, To feel alive. To laugh , to run , to live again. And to love again.
It's really funny how things Start turning out Once you realize you have to change Or else you'll implode from all this misery. People see you differently, Tell you it's okay mohit. You'll be alright again.
What???? Am I sick? Do I look sick. Maybe I do.
I don't need assurances That sun will shine again Mist will end And life will thrive again.
Make me laugh. Talk to me. I don't want to forget. I want to forgive. I want to stay and I want to leave.
I want to end it, And I want to begin again. I want to start all over And I want to fail again.
And most importantly I want to be dramatic And I want to wake up again.
How many people we meet in a lifetime? How many names do we remember? And how many are there we actually think of.
There are so many names , faces , faces without names in my head, that sometimes I wonder , did I met them in this life or my interaction with them was of different timeline.
My first grade friend named julie, I remember playing with her on seesaw. I remember laughing, running around the class , sharing my lunch with her. I still have her photo in my school yearbook. That little innocent chubby face engraved in a photograph of the girl I will never meet again.
My neighbor aditya when I was in fourth grade and her annoying little sister, I remember writing stories with them, playing football. I remember breaking the sculpture of Nataraj at their home, for which their mum gave us a mouthful. I remember us trying to draw pokemon with that god awful sketching skills we both have. I remember so much , that it hurts sometimes. Do they think of me too ? Or am I forgotten, lost.
I wonder where you all are, I wonder how much you have grown all these years. Are you still cute and chubby as I remember you julie? Or you have become something entirely different from what I imagined. Do you still write stories Aditya? Or you have lost this trait like a long lost hobby.
Am I the only one, Or do you regret too Of all the stories that lost, Without a proper goodbye.
There comes a time in everyone's life when we meet someone we want to stay with forever. We decide to give our heart without even knowing how complicated the journey is going to be. At that moment all we want is to have that forever. We unknowingly bound ourselves to them. Then comes a phase where we have to face the challenges the worlds puts in our way. Sometimes we fight and sometimes we give up. It's okay to give up, it's okay to stop pretending it's all gonna be fine. Not every situation is Going to be in our favour, not every pain is worth feeling.⚘ It's not our fault, it's the stars that align in the different way, if you have done everything to make something happen and it still somehow remain incomplete, don't be sad just smile that you tried, you fought and most importantly you loved, you loved hard.
Imagine if life is all about happy endings, I would have met you earlier, Instead of regretting why I met you. @dyonyysus
I know how it feels to hold a blank page in your palm To not able to hear the words parading in rhymes To not able to see your thoughts growing And blooming just like a scented carmine rose As if your metaphors are fearful to come out In the dark den of your subconscious mind Those verses and poems that are hard to conceive Like knitting your golden scarf, halfway losing entangled But it's okay, don't compel your pen to bleed Pause for a while, learn to feel your words in the void Who knows at your silent mode you can initiate a better version of your lost words It's not over yet to spilled your ink Be patient, soon the blank page will be filled With a dazzling stardust of your finest words For once, I was there wearing the same dull clothes of inkless verse like yours Somehow I didn't stop strumming my words until it find their way to carve the lost chords in me So as my dried ink set ablaze and lit again
I hope and believe that one day your words will ignite like mine