“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

Random Posts

Saturday, June 18, 2016

General Outlines

"You were scared, weren't you? Scared of closeness, exposing your scars and fresh wounds. Scared to reveal your soul and a strong desire for a soul to cling to. Scared of agony, emptiness and heartbreak. Despite that you fell, deep and irrevocably —then you attempted to get over and it saddened your heart to know that there's no getting over, only falling deeper. You went elusive, you lost the desire to be found. You assumed that would heal, but healing is a slow and long process. Sometimes, you don't heal —you just learn to embrace it, sometimes you know it's a one way road and you take it anyway. You realize, you were better as a kid 'cause everything seemed easy then and most importantly you were loved, unconditionally. You believe in general outlines, like basic thing defining a figure. Colors fade away, images lose identity but the outlines somehow guide you to recognize and help yourself to pick up and keep going. Worst you can do to somebody is to destroy the perception about love."
























Directionless and I wanted to be alone;
said you'll follow me no matter where I go,
lights misguide me, darkness is home;
we're clueless little kids not so long ago.

Words heal like nothing else would;
said all my thoughts you understood,
felt like am out of the woods;
but words stab like no knife could.

Nothing stays forever but;
general outlines of memories stay,
and it runs right behind you;
all those colors of promises fade away.

Telling the truth and lies too;
swearing like we never lie,
believed lies more than the truth;
love so blind, can’t deny.

Cried over mindlessness;
every time you tried to let it go,
hard to find good in goodbye;
‘cause you know healing is slow.

Nothing stays forever but;
general outlines of memories stay,
and it runs right behind you;
all those colors of promises fade away.

© Shreya ♥

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

Monday, May 30, 2016

Forgetting Mirrors

I wanted to show my new shoes and where they exactly bit me, but I still put them on 'cause I wanted to flaunt without any specific reason. I wanted to tell that the slit in my skirt was ridiculously long and I was hiding my legs with a shopping bag. See, I am not the girl in heels and skirts. I am the one in a pair of jeans and sneakers. I keep my hair open 'cause I love to feel air in my hair but I dislike fringes on my face and that's why I struggle to keep it behind my ears, but they fall every now and then on my face as anything under gravity.

You see, I am not the girl who carries matching bag or wears matching shoes. I am not the girl to spend time to match the earrings with the color of the fabric I've put on. I don't wear earrings most of the times. I am absolutely not the girl who rushes to washroom to fix make-up every now and then. I have been a simple girl in a tee and a pair of jeans with sling bag to carry umbrella in it, 'cause I hate rains. I am totally fine, if I am un-noticed. That is better actually.

I am content with the way I am and I learnt it hard way. I like people with whom I can just be myself. People who have seen me in pimples, running nose, messed up hair, puffy eyes, pajamas and still choose to hang out with me. Who don't tell me to put on or to shed some. I wish every little girl could understand that they are gorgeous and are one of a kind. I wish they could accept their flaws, scars, birthmarks or anything that weighs them down. You gotta shed it off if you dream to fly.

#Me! Click to zoom
I read it somewhere, "Tetris teaches you –when you try to fit in, you disappear." when you are flawed and broken, that beauty is one of a kind. In Japanese there's a word, Kintsukuroi —The art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. So, forget mirrors. Play with your hair flying in air, be wild and free. If you are pixie haircut, be that. Let them say it looks like a chemo wig, it is just lovely. Be carefree, enjoy food with a big fat bite. That face you make when you eat burger. Eat chocolates and cakes like a fat kid. 

Don't stop, remember if you'll be happy you can keep everyone else happy. Don't you skip food 'cause you want to fit into a dress. Change only if you want and your health requires it. Laugh loudly, throwing your head back and clapping like a retarded seal. Show them your teeth (and the lettuce stuck in it, LOL). Be the one you are when no one's watching. You know, confidence and comfort is beauty, being in your own skin is beauty and if they tell you that you're any less, dearie you already know which finger to show them. Exactly! Point is, there is always somebody who is completely crazy for you just for the way you are.

Learn to drive and how to park and tell them you good at it, you gotta break stereotypes to evolve. You could be the one who loves raps, reggae and metal. Music has no boundaries. Be proud about wherever sexual orientation you belong to, don't let anyone bully you for that. Be the one people look up to. If a guy on bike molests you, don’t let anyone tell you not to go that way again or to not go at all. Rather learn to ride bike, chase that moron and show that you are fighting back and not giving up. You already know where to kick. Feminism is not man-hating, just all about being fair for unfair circumstances. Live! Signing out, may God bless y'all.

P.S. Posting my own pic, for the first time on Blogger. Going monochrome, and there is beauty in black & white. Another reason why am not fond of colors.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Vigil

“Every time, I felt like missing you —I told myself to stop and forced to sleep. I believe sleep could fix our souls. I don't know I slept or dreamt, I just watched something is missing behind and I did nothing about it. I feel like you're a mistake, I feel I'll regret this but I also know, there's a comfort of a kind in missing you. Comfort of being sad, maybe. I find a dark hollow spot sinking in my chest delivering me life and that's how I realize I am alive. I want to tell you all this on a hill top at 2:00 in morning under starlit night and lonely place followed by the North wind. I want to feel the shiver and realize, it's real. I want to smoke and make rings of it. I’ve caught you staring at me and I want to stare at you, find out what pain looks like and run my finger on the edges of loneliness. Losing my sleep writing about you is like a ritual for me, I feel I will be pure if I perform this ritual like vigil. The more painful it is, the more pure it will be. I have a strange belief that you can’t understand such a twisted logic, I am learning to be content with it. So I will be awake, writing and humming it like a nightingale –sitting in darkness under an unfruitful tree all alone and singing to cherish loneliness, sending you smoke signals.”


























Heard you laugh in my dreams;
like happy little kids were we,
all those things that scare you;
won’t hurt like a faded memory.

There’s this moon, full and bright,
you in slumber, curled in bed;
thoughts like old pictures of you,
hidden under sheets of tears shed.

Endless vigil, tear-stained pillow;
beautiful cuts and a deep fall,
melancholic it is, isn’t it?
to watch them go who had it all.

Hiding with sinking heart in a corner;
and life doesn’t treat you fair,
the truth is you want to run away;
all consumed up in despair.

Wounds are fresh and they ache;
victim of something unfortunate,
this nobody knows but me;
counting on the happiness so late.

Endless vigil, caressed skin;
all wrapped up in emptiness,
laughing throwing my head back;
so nobody could guess.

© Shreya ♥

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Mizpah

1:33 a.m., May 14, 2016 –Saturday (Sleeplessness and anxiety)

I thought, I was this person who wouldn't miss people. But as the time of my return is coming, I feel like staying back and just buy some more time. I don't miss people easily and after staying away from home for so long I thought coming back from there won't affect me, but I was wrong. I guess I'll miss my mom and dad more than I thought I would. I will miss my friends here, definitely. I will blame time again, I know.

This image explains a lot.
But I know I will recover, the intensity of it will fade away. It does, always. Nothing is permanent, right? It's just so fresh and every fresh wound hurts more. I dislike distances, they say distances define love too. True, you can't love someone until you miss them. Sometimes, it’s nice to fool yourself. Heart is like a kid who believes in real Santa Claus. You gotta dress up like Santa Claus and put gifts under the Christmas tree, to make the kid happy. When a 3 year old hands you a toy phone, you answer it. Right? It's just like that.

I met few of my college friends a day before leaving after ages. We laughed and it was great time. I realized, everyone is having troubles and heartbreaks but you should laugh loudly whenever life offers you chances. Not laughing when you possibly could, is like not eating even when you are offered food and you’re badly hungry. It doesn’t make sense. We spoil half of our happiness by thinking too much about it. I do that, all the time. Just like William Wordsworth said in Lines Written in Early Spring“In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts, bring sad thoughts to the mind.” I always loved Wordsworth, I can figure out by reading something it must be written by him.

Too much of anything is bad, but I do anything either too much or not at all. There is just nothing in between. Half of it I wrote a day before leaving home and rest finishing today. It is one full week, and all I want is to be at home. Homesickness is so fresh, that I dislike talking about it. Like I am not yet over it and forced to come back.

To laugh and deal with it gracefully. I hate being weak, being guessed something is wrong. But that’s how we become strong, to deal with emotions –right? To get up, get dressed and show up at work –no matter what happened to you. It is strength, to show up when you are not even willing to leave bed. Like just dump your face in pillow and pretend it is not morning yet. Like everything is fine.

Mizpah is emotional bond between people who are separated (either physically or by death). Heavy word, but when it is fresh it looks deep and heavy. Distances teach to love, to know love and be pure. For somethings can’t be changed or replaced by distances. Pain is purity, I always believed. You become pure and beautiful when you are in pain. It is sole reminder, you’re alive. I wonder, if people miss me too maybe with lesser intensity I miss them. Parents are blessings, truly. I decided in my teenage, I will never leave them or do anything that hurts them. Signing out, may God bless y’all.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Social Dogma: Marriage

Apparently, I realized –people want me to get married more than I want to get married. Here’s a thing, “I don’t believe in marriages”. For me it is a concept created by humans, related as a ritual, a social dogma agreed by many. “I always believed, marriages should be an event to celebrate your relationship.” I am not against any kind of marriage, I support arrange marriage, love marriage, court marriage, LGBT marriages. Point is all sort of marriages are good, if it doesn’t involve any harm or loss.

I wish people expecting me to be married could know and understand that I am never gonna get married just ‘cause all other people of my age are getting married, or there is some dude earning good –“I am not looking for an ATM machine Sir, I make money too.” Or ‘cause, my neighbors and relatives are talking about it –well, they don’t have to be worried about it, where were they when I moved alone to a new city –jobless? So, I can take care of myself and I don’t need a man for it.

“I am asked multiple times –what kind of guys I like? I always answer, not those who ask me questions like this.” It is such a big turn off. I don’t have a type, there’s no type. What’s wrong with people? No, seriously? Why people think, there are certain parameters to be matched? Why a guy has to be tall, girl to be fair, guy to be making good money, girl to manage kitchen, guy to be strong physically, girl to have curves, guys to have biceps. Does that mean, people who don’t match these don’t get married or ain’t happy?

What pisses me off is –type. Like what the fuckity fuck! “Today, big butts are trendy. Tomorrow, flat butts will be in so what you’re gonna do –suck out all of your implants? I dislike this kind of mutation.” I want people to understand body type, every person is one of a kind. You could be tall, short, fat, thin, dark, fair, may not be symmetric, maybe missing a limb, might be victim of some unfortunate accident –still you deserve all sort of happiness. “Don’t let anyone tell you don’t deserve, ‘cause you don’t match to their notions of appearance.”

I am blessed, my parents are so cool. I know, they will support me whatever my decision is. I feel sad and pray for people, who suffer honor killing. Who don’t get to make choices, who are forced into marriages, who are killed for choosing partners from different religion or caste. Caste system, another shit –why I dislike last names is caste system. They assume –a Jaiswal, Gupta will be shopkeeper, a Pandey, Mishra will be Pandit, a Kapoor, Mehta, Tondon will be Punjabi, a Reddy will be this or Iyyer will be that. Stereotypes!

I wish, people to stop interfering in my life or simply to grow up a little. I don’t understand grown-ups sometimes, they have gone through my age too. Why they talk like a lunatic –baseless and absurd. People whom I told am going home, some of them thought I am going home ‘cause maybe my folks are arranging a guy for me and that guy is coming to see me. “What? –Am I an orange that he has to check me out or smell if am rotten or not? No, this is how it sounds like when they talk like this.” I just came home to meet my mom and dad!

I believe, generation gap is only for things like –clothing, food, job type, hair style, music taste, movies type, places. I don’t understand generation gap is the reason for people to not be able to understand marriage. “It is like, you know the alphabets and grammar but still can’t write a sentence. Either you don’t want to write or simply hate the language.” Think! Signing out, may God bless y’all.

P.S. Written on May 8, 2016 posting today. Connectivity issues. Back to Bangalore today!

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Origami

Sometimes, the more I know about people the more I tend to write. The more I write, the more I find peace. Writing is such an addiction –I write almost all the time. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of sleep and write in my phone. Sometimes, on my way to office. Basically, I write anytime a thought hits me and it is kind of annoying if can’t write it down. Sometimes, you don’t find words and that’s when you feel not everything can be explained. If I write about something, I have already thought about it hundred times. I still would have written less as compared to what I thought, it is just you can’t shut your mind off. It is one damn thing that is on all the time. Another reason why I love Sylvia Plath, love her to the moon and back.

I realized, sometimes you don’t have to tell things to people. Sometimes, it is not a good idea to tell. Rather write it down on paper and burn it down. Write it down and fold it into Origami, let someone unwrap it with their will to know. Write on a piece of paper, fold it in a paper airplane and fly it away or simply tell it to your pets. You’ll be maniac if you choose to tell it to God, God is a good listener –He’s drunk, anyway. I don’t know, I don’t like setting my expectations on people. It always lets you down, always. When I want a listener, they just don’t listen –they compare too. I dislike that.

I stopped giving nicknames to people, nicknames symbolize affection. Once you give them nicknames, you authorize them for more affection. I don’t like somebody giving me nicknames either. I am basically kind of demolishing anything that shows affection, anything that symbolizes it. In a way, turning cold. Closeness is scary and I do anything to avoid it. I shut people off who show care, for me it is threat –like one day they will ask things in return. I stopped sharing my blog link on Facebook or anywhere, I want it to be private. Maybe soon, my blog will no longer be public. It will be private or maybe just 2, 3 authors will have access to it.

I know, people don’t comment on my blog but few have subscribed. They read, regularly. They tell me and ask me about it. Some send me emails, about becoming the ghost writer. Some email me about writing contest they are organizing, some ask me to authorize them to write in my space. But point is, I never supported ads on my page and never will. I never did commercial writing, I believe it will lose the value then. I never used AdSense and never will. Money, is many things –not everything. Every time I am on Blogger –I either write, adjust my template, reply to the comments or read other blogs.

October 2015, I wrote a post called “Luca” for TOI, it was rejected. I don’t know, what rejected authors do. They are still beautiful people, I want to meet more rejected authors. I want to know, how rejections inspire or break them. I wrote about it, in December 2015 and hid that piece of paper under my mattress which I found later in February 2016 and laughed. I then realized, setbacks look more painful when they are fresh. But later you’re gonna laugh over them and tell stories to your kids. Rejections are such nice compilation of stories someone’s gonna hear someday. If they don’t listen your setback stories, don’t invite them to your success parties.

Why I believe in writing on a piece of paper and folding it into an Origami is –you are gonna unfold it someday and go back in time to realize things, good things and bad things. Sometimes, it is nice to know what you’ve been through. You are warrior of your own story and nobody can take that title away. I always write things on tissue paper, draw things. You’ll always find something written at the back of every note book I own. My signature, incomplete lines, lines from song that I sung while writing, idioms, unusual words, one word made from two words like –chill + relax =chillax, fantastic + fabulous = fantabulous, mad + angry =mangry etc. You will find, lot of papers under my mattress. Lots! When I clean, I unfold them, read them and hide them somewhere again. I am home, I just saw my Diary from college. Oh, I was so na├»ve. I am reading my own diary these days. I am carrying my Diary this time with me. Signing out, may God bless y’all. 

P.S. Written on May 5, 2016, posting today. No internet connectivity.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Concept Of Leaving

It’s not who left you, sometimes it’s who made you to leave. You may be the one to leave but, to leave when you ain't ready and to accept being called the one who left first is not as easy as people tell. People may tell you left them, but they never gonna take efforts to know what made you leave and even if they know, they may not do much to stop it or change your mind. Some people may just tell you things, they may tell you that they are never gonna leave but what’s more important is –are they ever gonna make you leave?

I believe, be it anyone –if they are not making you happy you gotta walk out of their lives. There’s no use in pretending to be happy when you are not. Let them learn your value after they lose you or if you are the other person, know what you lost and if you really know the loss and know nothing can replace it –do what should be done. We all know, what to do –we just don’t choose to do it. Some losses can’t be compensated, replaced or healed. You gotta live with the hollow spot and it is never gonna get better. You’re just gonna fool yourself, it’s getting better but it is not. It is just out of your focus. 

Don’t tell me time heals it, time is such a misleading concept. Time just increases your tolerance, makes you learn to live with the loss and that is it. Time never heals. For me healing is getting what you wanted or had. If you lost a limb –you can’t expect time to heal it. You ain’t star fish to grow body parts back in place. But with time you will adjust to live with the missing limb. That’s what we do with every loss occurred to us. Loss, such the small word and such a deep concept. Like cactus, small but deep rooted.

We naturally, tend towards easy things, short cuts and less time-consuming process. We need time, for every damn thing in this world. I so want a parallel universe where time is not among one of the dimensions. I remember how my favorite mathematical table was 11. 11x1=11, 11x2=22, and so on.. I mean, we are entitled towards things that are easy. Before we understand what’s easy we pick easy, in our sub-conscious state I guess. 

But thing is you pick easy or tough, you gotta leave. You gotta leave everything you were into, every place you have been to, everything. I don’t know what happens to us when we die, definitely we don’t become stars in the night sky (like in our Bollywood movies). But I know, they give our hospital beds to other patients after we die. But worst of the leavings are when you don't get chance to say good bye. But if you find a chance to say good buy, better find "good" in goodbye.

I really don’t know what is happening to people. I really don’t know, what is wrong. People are so mean, selfish. People tell they care, but they hurt. People befriend but misuse. People commit and still cheat. I don’t know, what happened to the world. I don’t know if God’s there, is God drunk? Probably. Remember Lady Antebellum’s song “I run to you” –“This world keeps spinning faster into a new disaster so I run to you.” I know, you either have mom and dad or don’t. There’s no ex-mom and ex-dad. I have never known ex-parents and I don’t know why all the other relationships can’t be like that. Signing out, may God bless y’all.

P.S. Am going home in May, am so happy about it. Counting days! :)

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Emotionally Slutty

I currently see myself who is in hurry, always. I lack patience, I’ve been impatient and that’s what I tell in interviews when asked what my weakness is. I don’t hide, I represent myself as I am –I don’t want to get hired pretending someone else and that’s why getting job is tough thing for me. Another things is, I have high expectations and I don’t negotiate over anything. You give it or don’t, there’s no negotiation. That’s why I declined multiple offers and got rejected multiple times. 


2 years back I was not this person to write about jobs, rejections, office issues. But as you grow and understand things, you realize all the people you care about –what they’ll think, is worst you can do to yourself. I learnt it hard way to express, anything. Sometimes, expressing is not a good decision and I later realized expressing was not a bad idea, expressing to wrong bunch of people was. And sometimes, I don’t express. I just build a story and kill them in the story.

I grew impulsive –now or never. Now I share a lot of my details to people, easily. I don’t manipulate details, I tell the truth or skip telling. It’s rough, it was hard for people to get anything out of me. But I now believe I reveal things soon, tell things as soon as I can, tell things before I could trust people and sometimes tell things to people before they are even ready to listen. Gah! That’s what emotionally slutty is. You rush things up, you want it fast and easy. I remember, as a kid I wanted to grow fast. Now I want to grow slow or not grow at all. I know, I am not the only one.

All your philosophy, kindness, patience, fades away when you’re mad. That’s what anger does to you. Anything that makes you angry, makes you sad too. People don’t see the latter. Well, people don’t at all. They want it and if they can’t get it from you, they will jump on to others. Wanting becomes constant and people become variables. That’s how world is, and that’s how we respect it now. If you expect otherwise, you’re a cave woman or rather asked to grow up or deserted. 

Lately, came across a post on Facebook –which says, why we don’t commit. Why people don’t stick together, why we are treated like things? ‘Cause, we have options to get it easy way. “N” number of dating sites and what not. But I always believed, I am never gonna order a human online. I am not buying an item to add in my cart and pay for it. And that’s why you’ll never find me on any matrimony or dating site. If you ever find me there, report me (that must be a fake account). 

I hate being emotional, I hate being caught crying. I hate being known weak and all of those things. I hate it. I just write and get it off my chest and that’s why I can never give up writing. You’ll never know when I am sad, that’s how I am. Very less people can find that out and it’s hard to fool them that am fine. It is crazy to want people to understand you better enough that they can tell something is wrong, before you say it. That’s why it is hard to push them away when they ask what happened. I don’t like telling my setbacks and troubles, I don’t like being reminded I didn’t make it either way. 

But sometimes, I just don’t stop. Sometimes I talk, a lot. I hate when people pretend they listening but they’re not. I don’t want a body who pretends listening. Better I tell that to a pet, they are warm and better. I don’t know, people come up to you with their troubles. They come up to you when they have all the options closed. They come up to you to get stuffs and something done. I feel like am a bell girl, people just press it to get things. It is funny when you know they are about to ask a favor and you know you’ll do it anyway. 

I don’t know who’s the biggest fool? But I think, there are still good people there, who will just do anything to make sure you’re okay and I push such people away, ‘cause for me closeness is scary thing. Good people, who do things without anything in return. But trusting is a hard job, it doesn’t come easily. People being nice to me is matter of surprise to me, I wrote about it multiple times –if somebody is nice to me, I am supposed to doubt that and if I don’t find a reason, I just manufacture one. It’s insane, but we all have defense mechanism –ain’t it? I have been elusive and I would continue to be same. Signing out, may God bless y'all.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Insignificant Details

I understand I have to skip certain details, certain vignettes about certain people while talking to certain people. You see, some people just can't entertain insignificant details or something that has nothing to do with them or the situation. I totally understand, some people don’t want to be involved in some irrelevant details and let it grow in their head. I understand it could be difficult to carry when they’ve got theirs to deal with.

But I like it when people share me some insignificant details like how they liked some name and decided that name for their first child. I love people telling me, how at one instance they experienced public humiliation ‘cause of a mishap like spilling coffee over someone or how they walked into a glass door making fool of themselves, I like people telling me how they miss their favorite home food, I love to know how that they love dogs and cats, I love to know how they spill something somehow every time they wear white. 

I love to know how they are crushing over someone but don't want to reveal identity, I love to know how they secretly sing songs their lungs out when they home alone, I love to know how much they love choco chips, I love it when people tell how out of the blue they saw their baby’s first walk, I love to know how much mess their pets made when they left them home alone, I love to know how their wedding dress be like –no matter they have got no idea when is it gonna happen. 

I love to know how their favorite color is blue and everything they pick is somehow blue, I love to know how they can watch a movie over and over again, I love to know people telling me how again they missed to hit gym and other excuses to support it, I love to know how they crashed in a meeting, I love to know people telling how their favorite part of day is evening. 

I love to know people telling me, how it is a task to match their socks. How it is insane to have a straight face and struggle to manage it. I love short details. I love listening how, they met someone in same flight twice while travelling. I love how a flop song is stuck in to their head and they still can’t get it out. I love how people like their coffee. I love to know how they got caught cheating in exam. I love to know how something about them, not everyone knows.

I love such insignificant details, I like the fact that people can trust me a little to share such vignettes and details. I like it when they tell, I wanna tell you a secret and then they tell it. I like them seeking comfort in me to tell how weird they are and how they can make insane moves. I love the fact how certain people share well-kept thoughts and incidents and never regret telling me about it. I love listening to people, I am a talker too once am comfortable enough to talk. 

But sometimes, I love listening. I love to see them express and see how their face changes expressions. I love how they move hands to explain things, I love how they widen their eyes as a sign of wonder or surprise. I love to witness dilated pupil, resting face, relaxed eye brows, tiny eyes when they smile, curve of their lips, face palms when they’re embarrassed, wrinkles when they’re worried. I sometimes, skip what I was gonna say and listen to them or just change topic and bring it to them and let them talk. I love little details, it’s all about it. Small things make it big. Signing out, may God bless y’all. 

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Time Capsule

“Sadness and happiness are like sine curves –the more it goes up, the more it goes down. If you were sad, you will be happy too and vice-versa. Success and setbacks are for people who try. I am writing this as a precious reminder to myself, saved in a time capsule. Struggle has its own flavor –and if something is that easy, I don’t want it. Losing is an art and not everyone can do. Time is a misleading concept and I just don’t want to stop trying. People are gonna judge, worrying about it is an irreversible and non-productive act. If you didn’t get something, that doesn’t explain you don’t deserve it. There could be better things to look after. Slavery of mind is source of poignancy.

Get rid of the people who consume a lot of your happiness and don’t bring out the best in you. People who control you, retard your growth, compare you to others and expect things in return. Help as much as you can, it goes long way. Be a sassy bitch, rather being a fake person. Social dogmas are for those who believe in it, you could break stereotypes as much as everyone else can. Remember, there’s always exceptions and first times.

Setbacks and apologies are not social stigma, not learning from it and repeating the same ones over again is. Fight for values, human rights, anything and everything that represents you. You represent a wide range of people, be someone they look up to. Disappointment is something to accept when you expect it, if you don’t expect it –take action, do what needs to be done and plan your action. God is drunk for people who don’t try. If they say, you can’t do it –show ‘em how it’s done. 

Loss is universal and nothing can replace any loss, time is bitch you know. Worst you can do is to be average, do it good or don’t do it. If you’ve done it average, improve. There’s nothing more inspirational than achieving things hard way. Days are gonna be rough, but good news is they pass. Everything does. Be thankful, to anyone who deserves it. Few things are gift and no one can take them away, dreams for example. Being agnostic is not hating God, it is believing nothing can define the creation and idea of God. That’s not your problem to explain people, let them find a term to explain your concept.

If you’re gonna judge, judge on their intentions. You are gonna meet a lot of people everywhere you go. Some are gonna please you, some not. Some will become friends, some will just pretend. Some are gonna hit on you, some will actually love you. There’s a very thin line, understand that. Some you’re gonna be friends with. Talking about people is such a vast topic, and you’re gonna learn all your life about it. Cut the cords with people lacking moral and ethics. 

Feminism is not man hating, if they don’t understand this let them deal with it. Don’t wear clothes they wanna see you in, you’re not mannequin. But take ideas to improve. If they don’t like your dressing sense, that’s their problem –let them prick their eyes. Don’t change, you’re fine and doing okay. Watch their tone, people are cunning they mean multiple things for a single statement they say. Never let your love for sarcasm to fade away, sarcasm is for people who think and use brains. 

Rap, is for girls too. Don’t stop rapping, they are gonna adjust and they are gonnna start loving it. Well, you don’t need anyone’s approval. Say no to things you don’t like to entertain, like flirting or being hit on. Tell them, not to be out of their little minds. If you dislike people, make sure they know that. People who hurt are not gonna be the ones who can heal in any aspect. Ones who will break it, will be the ones who had it. And it is okay, there’s nothing to regret. Just lessons. 

Make sure, it is their loss to let you go. Be it anything –job, friendship, partnership, deal. Whatever. Remember why you wanted it, before you have thoughts of quitting it. Forgive, don’t hold grudges. You will have peace. Never let go the people who walked in when everyone else walked out. Be that one who walks in for someone too, not that you have to return a favor –just ‘cause that is how you grow. Not everything has a name or term for it, not everything can be defined. You can always rename it as the day and date you felt it like (April, 10’16 for example) and tell yourself, I am feeling like April, 10’16. Please do something about your hair, please!”

Note to my future self, saved in a time capsule. PS: I am gonna read it same day next year. Reminder set!

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Faded Lucidity

We talk how people should have their bodies to please our eyes or what type of appearance is more appealing to us. Let me tell, I have known a bunch of people who are pleasing to eyes but they can't please the soul. People appear ugly if they don't possess moral and ethics. We discuss what body type a girl or a guy should have, but what would we do when they age. You see, we set heart on temporary things and then when it passes away with time, we find no way out of it. It’s like Siren, who lured sailors to crash their ships to rocky islands.

People possess different ethnicity and genes, to make them feel bad about their appearance is such a terrible thing to do. How bad it is to give someone an experience about an ugly appearance no matter how beautiful are they at their heart(s). Worst thing we could do to people is to make them feel worse about something they are not responsible for. It's like sentencing the victim and letting the criminal run away, ain't it?

There's something about reading and imagination. Some sort of comfort and freedom in having an imagination of a character you've just read about. I understand how sometimes reality can be ugly or how people can portray it worse than it actually is. But when it is non-existent, we have ability to portray it nice and do justice with it. I like some things to be limited to mind and not bring them into the world physically. I can fix it and customize it. It's like having full authority and freedom to do whatever you want. But then mind is a dangerous place, some thoughts you once conceive never fade away.

I love the way we fall in love with a character in a story, how we wish best for that character as we turn the next page. I love how we fall for them without having any idea of their appearance. We fall for them for their souls and whenever asked about your favorite character you never miss their names and sometimes, you reference them and die for them to be real. I believe, people are good at heart. We know what’s right or wrong, we very well know what is ethical and what’s not, and we know what’s good and bad. 

Like people know smoking kills, they have got Goddamn family but they still smoke. They hide from their kids and smoke, ‘cause they don’t want to pass it on to their kids. We live in such a delusion that we do things we know are not right to do. While having multiple experiences, I got to know –when we are sad and in pain, we are pure. I love innocence and it is something nothing can replace. I hate people who make other people feel terrible for things like appearance or their background. I hate people who make other people feel bad any other way. 

I am counting myself too, I hate it when I find I made people feel bad. I hate the fact that unintentionally, I played evil and it is not a good feeling at all. I don’t want to be the reason for someone losing their innocence. It is like we know everything, but we wanna do something evil that we pretend we don’t know what’s right or wrong. We pretend as if our conscience faded away at some horizon and we are too blind to see. Singing out, may God bless y’all. 

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Rough Patch

“Sometimes, things happen and you have no one to blame for. Sometimes, it happens to teach you something. Worst circumstances proves a great warrior and I am not the one who gives up easily, so bring it on. I want to remember, I fought –no matter I won or lost.”

























Flashback 2 decades;
candies were accolades,
paper airplanes and pistols;
card board houses and plastic dolls,
delayed tuition fee at school;
big kids don’t play but they rule,
bad grades on report card;
never been starred,
rented house, single bedroom;
finally had our little home,
jealousy well defined;
got it? never mind,
pocket money over again;
there comes the bargain,
man, all of the trouble;
so I formed this bubble,
stranger who molested me;
must die worst, I wanna see,
teen age and old radio;
my anger and alter ego,
same shirt thrice a week;
think a lot, never speak,
picked looking at right in the menu;
doesn’t matter what’s the venue,
knew mama saved money in a jar;
some wounds don’t leave a scar,
dropped things back looking at price tag;
ain’t no money in my bag,
man who stole my dad’s money;
ain’t no mercy, may he dies in misery,
dad’s scooter in blue;
man I loved that, they sold it too,
people don’t help but pretend;
imma break ‘em if they don’t bend,
working hard, success will unlock;
don’t say, “do” then we’ll talk,
to my friends in Delhi, sorry;
promise, will see ya soon don’t worry,
life’s a bitch I know;
it’s been quite a show,
know it was a rough patch;
like an itch ya can’t scratch,
but it's on, bitch it's on;
miss me when am gone.

© Shreya ♥

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google