#melancholydew

sitting with my guitar cradled in my lap , the once - familiar feeling of its curves and edges i had aligned myself to feels heartbreakingly alien. as i strummed softly i felt the metallic scent of the strings hit me like a pang of nostalgia, i realised the dents in my fingers hurt more than they had in a long time, like they'd never known the touch and bite of a string before. the notes came out distorted and i cursed myself for giving up on something that could've made me happy, could've offered me a safe haven. i realised it's not the first thing i let go of. and now i'm just sitting with my barren heart spilling on the sheet music, hurting with the loss of all the things i let go of that could've been special.

the hate they've weaved into the word runs down my throat and chills my spine. just one word, one slur and the blatant hate that they must hold in their heart for my people and i crashes down on me and threatens to choke me to death. 'i don't mean no harm' they say, and continue wielding that word as a weapon to scar us little by little till we bleed out. till we're lifeless. till we raise our unique voices no more. it breaks me think that someone can hate us enough to use our entire identities as an insult, to treat our whole community as a nuisance, to try to break us when we did nothing but love, others and ourselves. maybe the rainbow scares them, maybe it makes them jealous because we know ourselves better then they ever did. all i know is that this part of me is something i've learnt to accept and love and i will not stand for someone to make me want to cut it out of my heart with a blade and some tears again.

शायद आसमान ‌में उड़ने के ख्वाब देखने से ‌पहले मुझे ‌इनसान और परिंदे के बीच फर्क सीख जाना चाहिए था। - t

warm blood rushing across cold, bare skin. the tick-tock of the clock counts yet another second i haven't been able to breathe, too loud in this silence. too fucking loud. fingertips crawling across skin as if assessing it; where is the best place to tear it apart with just my fingernails ? how do i bleed out the poison in my heart and the broken glass in my lungs ? how do i fucking breathe again ?

~t

my heart shakes and my soul cries as the pain of the shock waves still reverbrates in my ears. i'm trying to count on my fingers all the promises i crossed my heart and swore to keep, and i run out of fingers. and i'm terrified that i will run out of time too. ~t

i could feel alive. ~t

dreams and fantasies and the allure they hold; sometimes i think they're meant just to be contained in a screen, shared by pretty people learning pretty lessons smiling pretty smiles. dreams shimmering so glamorously that they belong only to the ones who shine just as bright. i swallow the stardust and punch holes in my soul and scar my heart little by little till it's too numb and the yearning hurts no more. because i know that, with the faded scars within and darkness deepening when you scratch the surface, i do not fit the description. -t