Losing The Loss

It is going to be very hard initially —you will feel broken, hurt and in pain. You'll cry, at times you might not breathe. It will haunt you, over again. And you won't believe for quite a time that something unfortunate has happened to you. That you’ve been robbed of what you thought you would die without. You'll just console yourself telling you'll get it back. You might not. You'll lose sleep, hunger, desire, your mind –basically everything.

But, slowly you'll heal. You'll stop crying, you'll get out of bed and function. You'll realize how you've been crying all these days, how hard was that. You'll start believing what has happened, you'll feel the hurt as you’ll attempt to accept. You'll know things changed and you have to make some changes too. Eventually, you’ll get what you’ve lost in some other form. It is never going to be same, never –but it is so comforting to believe that whatever you’ll get might be better.

You'll stop waiting, you'll start creating. You’ll have this ample source of developing what you been looking for. You'll know recovery is a slow process and how seasons changed, so does your wounds. You'll come out stronger, you'll know how to survive the loss. You'll start loving yourself again, for being the person you've become and for the person who took it all so bravely, still didn't give up completely. 

So, don't jump your guns. Endure the pain and chaos, you'll heal. You'll not be lost for words when people will ask how are you? And you'll be okay if no one asks. There's a difference between lonely and being alone. You’ll not feel lonely, you might be alone and it will be all your choice –happy choice. Your anxieties will give up one day, eventually they have to. After all, everything comes to an end –your pleasures, so does your pain. Anticipate its arrival, celebrate that is going to happen and nothing in this world or any parallel universe could stop its occurrence. 

Emit the energy you expect from others, behave and treat the way you want to be treated back. There are two ways of recovery and healing –find someone who could understand you, comfort you and fix you. Or be the one who understands, comforts and fixes –just find an aching soul, attempt to fix. Don’t get doomed by the idea of outcome. It is always better to attempt than sitting back and expecting something to happen. 

If you’re fighting depression, anxiety, negative outlook about anything then remember this –there’s a way out and no one else can do it better than you. If you feel suicidal, remember it is because of all the great possessions you were blessed with. Don’t repent about its decay, loss or absence –feel content that you had it once, rather invest energy in re-creation. 

Listen up, don’t give up yet. You know, you can give up anytime you want –delay giving up as much as you can. Even if you gave up, you could start again –it might take twice the efforts but you certainly can start. They say –When it feels scary to jump, that is exactly when you jump. Otherwise, you end up staying in the same place your whole life. So go on, jump –make it happen. Live the life you’ve imagined, find what thrills you and thrive onto that.

And one fine day, when you’ll have a flashback –you’ll know you’ve made it. There will be no monsters haunting you, no shadows chasing you and you’ll be surrounded by light. You’ll know how stupid that constant thought and urge of giving up was! You’ll know, how certain loss was the driving force that made you such a warrior. There will be chinks in your armor and they’ll only mean you showed up and fought –regardless the triumph or loss. If concept of loss persists so much, lose what needs to be lost. Love yourself, if you won't who else will? Live! Signing out, may God bless y'all. 

P.S. Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this. –Homer 

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

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.

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

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.

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!

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 naïve. 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.