Because writing can be my injury at the same time, and that there are wounds that no human hands can reach. Because I can’t answer the Doctor if he asks me how it hurts, at least, not in a needed medical way. Only metaphors, only excuses. Because words cut deeper than the scalpel. Because there are ups and there are downs; because no one told me how little remains of us
after the fall.
Because the guy I met on a train station prefers riding the bus now. Because love. Because lies. I write because this is a place of pure honesty; because the paper holds the truth that my lips could not. Because here I can put a title. Because we never had a title. Because there is a period that indicates an end; because we didn’t had that kind of stopping signal. Because we squeeze into our jeans and we squeeze ourselves into people who have no intention of keeping us and we still wonder why there is such thing as pain.
Because I wish my grandfathers lived longer, because there are people who refuse to live. Because there is no cure for missing. Because there are people you can miss even if they are breathing right next to you. Because there are questions not asked; because there are unaccepted answers. Because there are people I can no longer call. Because there are words I will never hear. Because we all have boxes inside our hearts— filled with memories, filled with regrets. Because you hurt me. Because I hurt you. Because I never stopped writing about you. Because you stopped reading my words. Because I wanted leaving to look beautiful, to make it less agonizing.
Because the truth is it wasn’t beautiful, it was just simply letting go of your hand, and turning away with heavy eyes and ticking heart bomb trying not to shatter into million little pieces that could still love you in the next million years. Because it’s difficult to forget. Because memories are ordinary. Because memories are extraordinary. Because. Because. Because with you, I was me. Because this. Because words. Because there is you
I will never see
again.
To be or not to be, to go all in or to unwind and relax, we question our dreams, running in constant chase of our quests to come true, we are the ones who never sleep. Dreamers we are called, the ones who passionately strive in the endeavours of the best they could ever be, here is a letter to me, a letter to you. In the stride of embracing the best you have ever been, nurture your soul before the onset of the abundance in you that lies unseen.
Too bold, too much for your age, you are doing too much, how often have you heard these notions been used to describe you? As we tirelessly strive to achieve the next goal we have in our mind, we are often told that we are being hard on ourselves, to enjoy life a little. Life in its entirety passes by us in its dynamic flair, and the existence we envisage holds unique individuality to each one of us. The choices one makes for themselves belies them and them only, and t
My life is a mess and I have nothing to be grateful about! I witness myself say this phrase from time to time, where life plonks us into the desperation of ebb and flow of wilderness and things not going in our favour.
It is easy to say we are grateful and in complete balance when things are going well and life feels like the warm embrace of the sun shining on a Sunday morning. But the real test lies in remaining grateful and centred when life feels like spinning out of control.
While it is easier said than done, here are some reminders that might help you get through the days that feel like a burden –
1) This too shall pass, no moment in time that feels permanent loses its impermanence. We often lose hope when things don’t go our way and during these sad days, we should remember, that t
Our life unfolds in a succession of revelations of who we are. It is when we sit down and repeat the same sentence in our head over and over again, in every action we perform, every activity we indulge ourselves in, does it indulges into our existence as a habit.
The key to having a sense of liberation is allowing life to flow through, not forcing anything and more essentially not resisting change. I believe that our life improves in the direct proportionality of how often we are exposed to situations where are forced to challenge our age-old beliefs and counterfeited perceptions and seek the greater version of ourselves. When we get too comfortable in the comfort zones we build for ourselves, we do not grow into the people we are meant to be. Sadly most people embrace change only when metamorphosis is the less painful and only possible option.
The treacherous waters of existence hail in their stride,As the beauty of sailing against the winds uproars in its ride.Benevolence in its yonder stirs the mirth of the true,Navigating the turbulent waves, death and I had a rendezvous.
I sought the beauty of the light that was unseen,In the depths of my muse, I found my world within.Life in its flair, trudged me into the emblems of the dark,The dreams that perspired in the seed embraced their death,As it was time for a new quest to embark.
Quaint whispers that echoed in their gallant stance,The jeers that surmounted the uncertainty galloped in their dance.Silencing the wind, bestriding the fall,I plunged into the entirety of my endeavours that call
Love is the purest emotion one feels towards themselves and another individual. While the expression of love can vary in its entirety from one person to another, the care we hold for the ones we love shares an undeniable impact on how we forge our perceptions of interpersonal relationships. The way we communicate our feelings to someone also says a lot about how we are wired, the method of conveying our affection to our beloved ones is called a love language. You may express affection to the one you love regularly, but do you take the time to ensure that you are communicating it in the way that the other person prefers? Even love can become lost in translation when two individuals speak different love languages.
Ever acquainted with the phrase that the world that you exist in, the life that you embody dwells in the perception of the stance you hold for yourself. The beauty and the tragedy of life is that it is as beautiful as the optimistic lens of perception and as ugly as the pessimistic view of your being.
The strive of our endeavours and the constant effort to achieve the next massive milestone often drive us to the edges of insanity, to be in the consistent light of greatness we lose sight of the great strings of joy that bind our existence together. To be the best we have ever been we must be mindful of the best we are. Coinciding in the traps of negativity and yet claiming to be the best version of yourself is a blinding truth that lies to only
I breathe in the sauntering air that collapses my being,I breathe through the crevices of my existence unseen.Uncertainty in its yonder strikes in bolt on the scars that nobody sees,Redemption that loves, redemption that is free, find me in the depths of my poetry.
Tales of lust ridden in smeared touches that belie,Entreated with envy, the visions of victory lie.To be or not to be in a question that yet lies,For I yearn for a world where fond passion never dies.
Enclasped in the cage of the deemed duty,Bounded in her vows, she forgot she was a thing of beauty.In a realm we live, where amour in its truth fails to stand tall,She, tired of her existence, submerges herself into the beauty that her dreams enthrall.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.