Hello everyone. I'm back. Kinda? Did y'all miss me?
Okay. So I have a lot to say. I missed mirakee soooo much. I forgot how I could write whatever I want here. I've been a lil antisocial lately. It's like a lot of things making sense all at once and it gets a lil too much sometimes .
I feel guilt, embarrassment, resent, regret but the feeling that gave me the final push to download mirakee again was... I realized that we're all alone, fighting our own battles in this world and for the first time this doesn't scare me or makes me sad. I don't know. For the first time in forever, I don't feel like I need someone's attention. I'm happy having my own attention.
This is not a writeup. This is my heart bleeding the only way it knows. I've never felt like I truly belonged somewhere. I never felt I'm one of the crowd. And I wanted to. For so so long. It started a long time ago too. My parents used to work and on days when I had to be picked up from school, There were often miscommunications. I used to watch parents come and children go with them. More so often than not I was the last one to go home. I've never felt like I'm normal. I can stand in between group of people and I'll always have this feeling They all have something in common, every last one of them, that I don't. And that's why they communicate so casually. I always felt left out. I've had trust issues even before I knew the meaning of this term. I don't have anyone to call my home. No friends I can really call my true friends. You'll often find me mingling, smiling, making conversations But I'll never tell them what's on my mind. My throat refuses to let those words out of the cage. What if my thoughts, feelings, emotions are weird, different, not normal? I've tried making peace with the fact I don't know how to hold people in my life. They always slip away. All of the people surrounding me know this secret The key to my insecurities. They know or they fake confidence amazingly. Some days, most days, I feel ashamed of my own thoughts. I feel ashamed of loathing me. Other days, I pick myself up and move on. I tried talking to people, random strangers and failed. I don't really know what I want anymore. I don't really know what is normal anymore.
( i knowwww. I may or may not remove it soon. I knowww. I'm like the worst one for not replying to you people. I'm fine. Kind of. Thank you for caring. I hope you all are too.)
All this time, I thought my life was a tragedy, But now I realize it is a comedy A comedy with nightmares Nightmares that force me to write words Words that have meaning but no sense Sense that has decided to stay hidden inside Inside in mind, and now it's time Time for the demons to rise.
The first two lines above are from the iconic movie "Joker". Sorry for ruining it. Hehe.
he walks down the empty street with a small ukulele on his back eyes down on the concrete watching his own feet drag him forward. you'd think, poor boy, his love left him at the best, what else can hurt a boy so young and he probably sings songs in her memory at nights sitting on his window sill, smoking some cigarettes, burning his lungs like his heart.
the boy stumbles and a diary falls out of his jacket and now you'd think, oh, he must even write poetry, his lover the muse. he bends down to pick up the diary, and something shiny and pointy pokes out of his denims. looking at this you'd think, my poor little boy on his way to kill himself, I must stop him and so rush forward down the stairs, out the front door, with a Bible in your hand.
stop my dear little boy, worry not for God loves us all, throw away that knife and here, take this. you don't know what hit you, but something did and the last you remember is a crucifix in his right hand and the knife in the left, slashing across your throat.
I was going to the gym. I saw an accident on the way. I thought of calling the ambulance and helping the victims to get out of the vehicle. but I didn't because I was getting late to the gym. I will miss my biceps work- out which I don't want. "Atleast I am kind hearted, I feel sorry for the victims."
I was on my way to college. I saw a bunch of boys teasing a girl. I thought of going and confronting them. but I didn't because she isn't my sister and I am not bahubali. "Atleast I am kind hearted, I feel sorry for the girl."
I was standing at a pizza hut an armless beggar came begging near me. I thought of helping the poor soul. but I didn't because the money in my wallet was only sufficient to my pizza. "Atleast I am kind hearted, I feel sorry for the poor."
I was having a walk in the park I saw two people fighting over religion. I thought to interfere and solve their dispute. but I didn't because they were not my friends and it was none of my business to stop them. "Atleast I am kind hearted, I feel sorry for their stupidity."
I was in my college canteen. I saw couple of bad boys bullying a guy for his ugly and disfigured face. I thought of going to his rescue. but I didn't because they were powerful and I didn't wanted to mess with them. "Atleast I am kind hearted, I feel sorry for the guy."
There are many more circumstances where we act just as mere spectators. Feeling bad in heart doesn't justify that you are a good human being. You should never hesitate to help someone in trouble. You should never fear to confront someone powerful than you. Only then you will be known as a good human being.
Pic credits to the rightful owner Corrections and suggestions are welcome. may be my last post this ramadan #dadiesprincess
Do you know why I love stars? They represent something extraordinary. It is like staring right into the past life of something that happened long before our existence. It questions our understanding of time, this is nothing but a universe that existed in different parts of the time. Some a few minutes before, some few hours, some thousands, some billions and some may not even exist at this moment. In the grand stage of things, our now is nothing but a collage of a past that no longer exists. We are so damn foolish, thinking we need words to tell what we feel when the universe does a better job with this darkness and flickering lights.
It is one of the most iconic photographs taken by the Hubble space telescope. These towering tendrils of cosmic dust and gas sit at the heart of M16, or the Eagle Nebula. The aptly named Pillars of Creation, featured in this stunning Hubble image, are part of an active star-forming region within the nebula and hide newborn stars in their wispy columns. source: NASA
I had eternal power and I scored. I don't anymore. They think me weak and the Wild ignores.
I saw a little ant struggling today. Legs flailing, it actually survived the initial onslaught wrecked upon those straddlers by a wave of water. Does that entitle it to a rescue? Or was there something else? I used to play around the drains, or what those small runnels coursing a path along the house walls were called. A small scrawny kid, with a contorted stick grasped from the clutches of a neem tree, and a matchstick to capture that strength of fire, to drink deep from that chalice of power. I cannot even recall why I did it, maybe cause one of them bit me, maybe cause I channeled some rage, some helplessness. I took that piece of wood, I stabbed those little creatures. Convinced that it was not fatal enough, I'd torch the crippled, struggling form. Some innocent kid eh. I think that wasn't the only instance where I poured fire on those tired beasts. I once imprisoned a limping wasp and sacrificed it on the effigy of Dussehra. I'd convince myself as just, punishing some ugly insect, for it's tenacity, for a threat that terrifies. So much for some moral science.
I contemplated about helping that ant, maybe even did. Overcoming some guilt? Cowering behind that thin veil of some good deeds? Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't. I realised half of this stuff, at least in my conscious, after I started writing it down. But I felt no elation, no loss of grief or a sense of atonement. Like some mundane necessity, I delivered it unto a dry wall. To spend the rest of it's short, confused life away from the tide that follows a shower. I still think children are innocent. Innocent in a way where they let loose their demons, conspicuous and ready for the judgement from others. The innocence of someone mired in the dark mud of ignorance or a simple lack of knowledge. The innocence sparkling in that welled up tear, when they are allowed to empathize. The innocence, trapped in that parched throat, like a lump, followed by a whimper, and a faint smile. A smile to hide some realisation, some crime.
You continue to break me like your thoughts and leak my pieces everywhere you go across L.A. Your boots have seen a petal mourning for me at every cementry you've ever been to. You see a ghost of me, and although it crushes my bones, I try to smile through my crooked teeth and bloody gums while my breath remains hitched.
(I'm the most toxic thing you've ever come across. There's poison in my veins and dust on my lips. You turn around and storm away refusing to kiss the ash settled on my cheeks. Tears wash them away but it's already too late.)
You think it'd be damn good to not hear from me again, but lean in closer and you'll hear how badly I've been hoping for you to save a piece of me for your own self.
(My heart won't stop throbbing and it's 2 a.m. as my mind is hung on the song you thought would tear me apart. I wish it didn't. I wish it didn't. I wish you didn't. But my heart's just adamant like me. You made me believe in zodiac signs and now, I hate that I do.)
My therapist wants to unlayer me but I can't tell her that she has to study you to understand what pain I'm going through. I'm 1 hour and 10 minutes late here and I call you thrice but you reject my call and abandon me like the extra cauliflower in your soup and I don't know what to do, so I string a lame excuse together and miss my third appointment in less than a week.
(I wish you'd charged your phone last night before dozing off while talking to your friend about the assignment that went wrong. You always had your priorities straight and I wish I could learn that from you but my mom knows I'm a bad student, have always been.)
2 years ago you asked me if people frown in their dreams and my answer was no. Fast forward to two years, maybe on a windy Friday morning I'd tell you how your nightmares make me feel drunk on broken love but you just don't seem to care and hell, I'm too tired to fix any of what's left in me.
(Running my fingers over the cosy coffee mug, I peek into my empty soul. I pour over coffee to fill the voids in my body but I end up burning my fingers and staining my shirt. You froze my heart with unmeasurable hatred and fuck, one cup of coffee cannot melt it down so easily.)