Veni, Vidi, Amavi

Never been anyone's first option. Never had anyone to hold me through my anxiety attacks. The depressive episodes are getting worse again, and I find myself standing at the edge of a dark tunnel waiting for the darkness to engulf me. Been rawdogging life since I was 12, don't know why it feels so heavy and lonely as an adult.

My silence flows continuously through every language of loss.

Sometimes, loneliness grabs me by my throat and refuses to let go. Like an unwanted guest who's been staying for 20 years and refuses to leave. Like a rock that has been weighing down on my chest. Loneliness is all the people that left but didn't close the door behind them. The door is open, but no light ever comes in. The sun has set on my horizon long ago. They tell me it gets better, that one day someone sees past all this insecurity and flaws and trauma and still chooses to love you. I don't believe that. What if there is no one, and I'm just inherently unlovable? My own parents couldn't love me, how will anyone else? I just wish I could subdue this needy, desperate girl in me who just wants to be held.

Loneliness grabs me by my throat and refuses to let go. Like an unwanted guest who has been staying for the past 20 years and refuses to leave. Like a rock that's been weighing down on my chest. Loneliness is all the people who left but never closed the door behind them. The door stays open, but no light ever comes in. The sun had set on my horizon long ago. They tell me that it gets better, that one day someone will see past all these insecurities and flaws and brokenness and still choose me. I don't believe them. My own parents couldn't love me, so how can someone else? I just wish I could subdue this needy and desperate little girl who just wants to be held.

Privileged are the ones who are born under a roof they can call home. Not me, though. I was born with one foot out the door. I was born to leave.

I don't think we ever get over over the people we love. I don't think love ever leaves. And I don't think it is meant to either. And even when it leaves, it leaves a part of it with us. And we are meant to carry love with us forever. Love is the number 16 circled my calendar. Love is the half-eaten chocolate bar hidden in my school bag. Maybe love is hidden in 10 rupee note I lent you. Or maybe love is all those weird science facts I studied just to talk to you. Love is every note played in your guitar strings, whose melody is still stored at the back of my mind. Maybe love never left even though you did.

Oh sweet child of love,

18 is such a messed up age. But all your ages were messed up, weren't they. Suddenly, you're 12 and begging to be loved. Starving for an ounce of affection like a hungry child. The child in you wants to be held, but your adult self wants to euthanize her.

Daddy issues so bad might start liking someone's dad now.

Maana ki zidd nahi thi, magar aadat toh thi.

You hugged me when I said I missed my mom.

I like people who are like the sun.