An outlet

I'm thinking about family.

I'm thinking about my people,

And I'm thinking about attachment.

Am I detached from my closest people

Was that ever voluntary,

And if it's true,

Is it really that bad?

How do you measure closeness?

Is it by how much they get me, my life?

But how will they understand me,

When they barely know my life

They don't have time

I'm not a priority

I have a duty toward them, and the dynamic is different

Either, or, all

The ones who I can share with, are all not a proper option. And I'm thinking maybe I don't need the constant presence of my people around me like I thought I did. It's good that im detached. I should focus on work, and writing, and consuming art. People can be sprinkled in, if available, otherwise, it's okay. I'll be okay.

My emotions and thoughts are confusing, and this doesn't make sense.

I guess I'm confused about what my closeness to people is,

how it is different from what others feel,

if one of us is right while the other wrong

or maybe I need more than the ones around me can give, or be there

and i should adjust what I expect,

stop being dumb and unrealistic about my expectations,

Isn't that the central question we ask as we get closer to friends or choose partners, find hobby groups, and interact with the internet?

All of us are insane in some way or the other, maybe you're insane for a certain TV show or sport, maybe there's something about the way you see the world, maybe you can't get enough no matter how much you work, maybe it's an odd habit, but all of us are insane.

None of those friends are lost. We just don't talk like we used to. They're not lost. We know nothing about each other's life. Not lost at all. We just don't remember the last real conversation we had.

But we'll be friends and all will be good when we meet. Smooth and easy. So I haven't lost a friend, just lost contact, part of growing up.

Here's the kicker, I have no idea when it happened. Was it when he started dating, or when his girl and i fell out? Maybe it was when I got busy, or he did. Perhaps it was natural and we being close friends was the odd thing in the first place.

I don't know what happened. I don't know if it matters. I don't know if he cares.

A rite of passage, so here it goes,

Not as used to poetry,

But I love you, so

She calls herself a weirdo, and rightly so. But weirdos are often the greatest kind of people. A little unsure of herself, sometimes too sure, she lives in contradictions often, and gets confused by her own beauty. Little proud of her wins, and hugely annoyed of her losses, she sees life in black and white, and is often stuck in grey. Fitting, because she is grey, not black nor white. Unafraid to ask for love, but not to sound needy or overbearing. Stories keep changing as she evolves, figuring herself out; knows she is a work in progress, eager to become a masterpiece, her own magnum opus.

So here goes something,

an attempt to elicit emotion,

We’ll do it all

Even Especially if it’s impossible

Be headstrong and kind,

take a stand and be accommodating,

Content and ambitious,

Outwork everyone and take enough breaks.

Have the best relationships, and not be overly attached,

Be disciplined and flexible.

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

Stuck in our own dilapidated melody. Stuck at "oh no i feel bad my friends wont be there forever." it doesn't matter.

there is war, and famine. there is disease, and crime.

should be grateful for the plethora that exists, smile and enjoy it. instead of focusing on the minor inconveniences, especially when the solution is known. the friends wont be there, and that is okay. yes, they might go away, it might be your fault, or theirs, or nobody's, or everybody's.

focus on the good, the good that can be done, the good that exists in life, the good that is possible, and focus only and only on improving that. the things that happen around are side effects. ensure to not hurt anyone in the process, but things could get tough, and so what. do good, all the good that can be done.

will be taken care of, and will be loved, and will love, and all great things. being stuck in things for which the solution is known (accept and make peace with it), being stuck in those things is stupid.

Gained, and lost, and gained, and lost

an endless cycle, hopefully not.

I have learned to make peace with a lot of things life throws at me; losing people is something I am still working on. My once best friend is a decent friend at best, all because he ridicules something important to me. He may be right in his view, and maybe I am overreacting. I don't know how to be close to him anymore, not without hiding an integral part of myself, and if I've to do that, then we aren't close anyway.

I wonder if clove maybe feels like that about me. I am clueless about a lot of things obvious to her, things central to her personality, and not sharing that, fair enough, but is it closeness? I would want to understand all of a person I am close to, and would love it if they could tell me how.

It is not faking who I am. I admit, for example, not a big fan of watching sports, would probably never watch it alone, except for nostalgia's sake maybe. I am thrilled, however, about how much it matters to my buds, and how much emotion they express through it. Took something they love, and tried to love it in a way that made sense to me.

I digress. this is a few random thoughts about people in life, and relationships and friendships. Simply put, I am still learning how to be at complete peace with people moving in and out of life, still feel sad, frustrated, annoyed, about how these things work out sometimes.

Yes, everyone has their own journey, makes their own choices, and because of that you are bound to lose a bunch of people as you grow. The understanding of how super-successful people probably have none of the same friends they did when they were younger, and that's the price you pay to be impactful and make a difference.

We are only a moment,

A microscopic cog,

In a plan we can’t fathom,

And yet we choose

To stress and stay cold

Warm up, so you don’t be sore,

Take that hug, and give a smile.

Warm up, so you run well,

Drink hot chocolate, and share it too.

Warm up, stretch well,

My thoughts on this year’s NaPoWriMo. A while back, i started regular spiritual practices, striving to reach a place where I am calm within in all situations. The progress has been going well, and a side effect is lesser poetry. I used to write when I felt a lot of emotions, writing helped me manage it. But now, the need to write is going away, as i improve emotion management.

This was the reason I didn’t do napowrimo in 2023, and why i write lesser in general. I believe if i am given a specific topic, i can still produce a decent poem, but the inner urge and need has reduced.

My blue water bottle,

With silver nail polish,

You help me survive,

In summer days, and otherwise too

Everyone around me, loves you a lot

And if i forget you, you they ask about

750ml, convenient and enough

You have an easy handle,

And you’re just the right size.

A faithful companion,

And a constant one too

My mom used to ask,

why i take you everywhere,

But now,

The moon hides the sun,

The best relief this summer.

It is almost new moon day,

And yet, we see the whole moon.

The land is enveloped in darkness,

And yet everyone wears sunglasses,

Everyone with their phones out

Or pro cameras set

Living half in the future, to record this moment and see

Instead of living it as it happens

The moon, covering the whole of sun,

Is the simplest explanation of relativity.

64.3 million moons can fit in the sun, and yet

It covers the sun whole because it is closer to us,

Postcard for you.

Dear Friend,

I am here in Turkmenistan and I wish you were here. Everything is white and gold and it refuses to be anything but itself. Only one flight a day too. It taught me what I wish you'd know too. Love yourself as you are, and so, be yourself. Not everyone needs to know you or get you, so have a flight only once a day, filled with people who are truly there for you as you are.

Fill in the blanks of a memory, seats for ghosts, paint, weird wisdom, become the red wheelbarrow

The auditorium is empty, and I am on stage.

I try to remember my lines,

What, where, when, how, why,

Some seats start to fill

With figures like wisps of smoke.

What happened here, what was the drama?

Where was this based? School, college, or home?

When did this even happen, did it even?

How do I find out the truth? How do i know?

Why do I need to anyway?

The seats start to fill up

From wisps to Ghosts,

But translucent and nothing solid,

Nobody wants to fall in love

Falling means you get hurt.

Everyone wants to be in love

Being in love is a state

There is no hurt,

Only sometimes change

From one state to another

I dreamed of you again last night,

The day you arrive gets closer

how do i feel

It’s a surprise for everyone else,

The few I told called me crazy, said you’d never come

But they’ll know soon

before the final breath i hope

My eyes water, but my mouth is dry,

The shrink said it is classic panic

Asked me if someone i care about is coming soon

you are

And feeling overwhelmed is normal whether i love you or hate you

And i should journal and rationalise

no point when you’ll make nothing of the world



It won’t be nuclear, and it won’t be climate

It will only be a seed, planted in the wrong soil

unforeseeable, and yet, planned

It will kill us from the inside out,

It is un-fightable with guns and ships, love or hate

We try, but all we can do is accept, hold hands, and wait.

I read hunger games and I don’t trust the sky anymore.

Through the lens of fiction and surrealism - How far away is it? Does it even exist? To exist, it should be felt, and I never felt the sky, emotionally or tactically. Stars can be holes in the sheet called our sky, and on the other side can be be walking whales, buying corn dogs from witches. There can be mermaids who shit gold and unicorns who drill underground.

Even through the lens of practical science - We have never gone far enough to touch the sky, and the sky doesn’t exist except in our dictionary, because it can never be felt anyway. It is mis-termed for a great expanse of nothingness, outer space. The word ‘sky’ exists to comfort us from the fact that there is nothing around our planet for a long, long time. And whoever exists next, we haven’t met them.