love

jinxing things is myth. appreciate things while u can

when they think having empathy makes u weak but boy let me tell u..

main ek shaadi mai gayi thi and when i came back home meri mumma meri massi se phone par baat kar rahi thi and my massi said ki "bohot pyaari ladki hai, kisi se kuch kehti nahi hai, kisi se koi farak nahi padta bas ek corner mai baith kar sabko badi badi aankhein karke dekhti rehti hai."

why does my body not understand the difference between excitement and anxiety..

the tension between me and the mortifying ordeal of being known. it is a horror, indeed, but how liberating is it to be known amply and accepted despite each my flaw be shown? i fear i fear being known because i fear being rejected but i fear i dont fear it more than being neglected. i can stand being undesirable but i dont think i can bear being unacknowledged, stand being the untouched, unread book at the book store which nobody dared to open simply because it had too many pages, had too much to say. But the book is open, open for you to see, open for you to know and open for you to perceive. Aren't we all just books sitting on bookshelves wishing we'd be more tempting for the reader choosing, wishing we were a bit thinner, and had a cover more amusing. I wish each page of me gets read, with eyes awake, wide. Each detail be highlighted with tiny little notes on the side. It is far from mortifying. a bit scary, okay, but if i said it wasnt half my pennies down the fountain, id be lying.

I moved around a lot growing up. Too much, an annoying amount of times. At a very young age, i had to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing i could do about it. I was told to suck it up. Life went on, we moved and moved and moved. It grew on me eventually. I, who once sought friendship in just about any being, now found comfort in solitude. Because what is the point of planting saplings when you ought to leave the garden one day. Bullshit. I have planted saplings and saplings till my fingers were cramped up, till i was parched, till the back of my nails were disgustingly packed with dirt. But im still sucking it up quite well, I’d say. I fear i’m drifting away from the point.