Things are looking up.

Regardless of feeling too much, i can’t bring myself to write.

Putting my feelings into words makes me anticipate that some bad piece of reality is going to twist them somewhere down the line. That, my happiness would be jinxed if i laid it on paper.

So, no textual records of my happiness exist. Only fleeting memories of jovial days, and nostalgic reminices about the past find their mention: in my consciousness, or my journal.

So here. This is me, putting forward a word of positivity; of hope. I’m at peace, and i haven’t felt so shitty in the past couple of days.

Advertisements

A Prayer for Myself

It’s National Poetry Writing Month! Just like last year, I’m going to try and write a poem everyday. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to write on promts everyday, but I would love to try. Hope it turns out well!

Here’s today’s poem, on the prompt: A Prayer for myself.

Listen, you.
In the name of the past, the present and the holy future,
cut yourself some slack.
You are doing a wonderful job not crumbling under the weight of the circumstance;
I hope you continue to.
Let yourself not squander your happy moments.
Cruise pass your bad days by painting your toes bright blue like you always do and cleanse your mind of negativity-
wash gossip off of your mind before every meal, every drink and every breath.
Don’t just wash it off- scrape every last sign of it off of your brain.
If it comes to it, run away.
Run away to better, positive things, like you always do;
I cannot help but marvel sometimes, how you suck the marrow out of every situation and ultimately find what’s good-
keep that good really close to you.
Find that good in other people, then tell them about it.
There are enough critics in the world- be the one who spreads love;
Love: please, stop fearing that emotions will break you;
they will make you vulnerable, but for once, take down your mast, and let the waves guide your ship.
Start forgetting:
forget the words and ways that left you feeling hollow inside, forget your failures
But remember your mistakes,
learn from them.
When you think you know everything, try to learn more. Think more.
Listen, you.
There are millions of people in this world who will be ready to point out your faults and bring out your insecurities,
but only you are capable of flooding yourself with unconditional love that cannot be obtained from anywhere else.
Open the floodgates. Drown in

love;
me.

Learned Languages

Words are powerful. Words are important. But in some confusing, happy moments, words become a person for me. They materialise into a tight-fisted punch across my throat, fracturing my boneless tongue. They impair me in inexplicable ways. In these moments, whether sad or happy, I am motionless. I am speechless. Lost for words because they aren’t inside me, anymore. In a way, my words are my impairment. No matter how much I may try to harness their power, in some situations, they desert me, an empty vessel.

So to the people who have shared silences with me;

I hope the absence of words does not make you uncomfortable. I hope you know that sometimes, silences speak volumes too. I want you to know that at times, I am so full with words that I spit them out of my mouth in silence. I hope you could see how I sew my words into the fabric of silence. it is my favorite language, and one that I’m too familiar with. i have grown up threading the reels of my non-existent vocabulary around this language. i speak it too well, too easily. it comes to me sometimes, sadness. I write my silence in well scripted sadness. And it stays sometimes. In it’s persisting permanency, it stays: it sets up camp in my heart, and makes me bleed out poems in it’s script. I feel like a blank now and then. My sadness, my silence- weaknesses. Both, a chink in the armour. I either feel too much, or nothing at all.

It’s a seesaw, to be honest. the balance tips very often, and I roll over, changing between the two sides. I don’t know who I’m going to be one moment from the next. It’s not very pleasant, to be honest. The insides arrange and rearrange, once, twice, multiple times. Is this how the Earth feels when tectonic plates shift?

Feeling, too much.

There is simply no tax or fare you need to pay for feeling too much. 

Feeling too much is like drowning yourself in alcohol you know is not healthy to consume. Feeling too much is the nausea that comes after, curable, but time consuming. Feeling too much is the rent you pay for opening your arms far too wide for someone who does not love you back. 

So when I say I feel too much, I need you to know that my insides are tangled up like reels of unbound thread soaked in gravity, raining from the clouds.

There’s a lot of slow, endless falling.

On Perspectives.

Today I learned that it will hurt a lot to have your own perspective of things. I learned that even though we might see our unique interpretations as something that sets us apart, they also pull us back to believing the illusion that everything we see is exactly what it seems; that there aren’t more parts to a story than the ones we choose to read. 

But there are. In a world where every element exists in pairs: night & day, fire & ice, real & virtual, matter & antimatter, perspectives too, occur in more than one ways. I always thought I was capable of looking out of the box that limits me to my opinion, that I could see what someone else might want to take out of the situation.

I was wrong. You never really know. 

I learned that a confrontation can help in more ways than it can cause harm. There was a lucid, brilliant clarity, a lightness that I felt about myself as I talked out loud about something that had been pestering me, lingering on in my conscience so ardently.

I am fine, to state my mood in the exact terms. I’m learning how to deal with difficult situations. It is a little hard for first timers like me, but it’s the lesson of a lifetime. I’m trying to keep my emotions in check and not muddle up what I feel and who I am.

So far, this is working out. 

Feeling Differently.

Today was almost reckless. Like a sea wave that wipes away your scribbles in the sand. Pretty scribbles. 

I woke up feeling as if something had eroded my happiness away. Somehow, I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz was reverbrating within the hollow chamber of my body, bouncing off of my bones. I almost found myself wishing someone would sing it for me. Someday. So I played it on my phone as I lay in bed: warm, externally but cold, internally. My shuffle playlist turned out to be great, so I began to feel better. 

I gathered all my notes to finally sit down to study. Studying is hard because focus is not a choice. My mind flutters away like a butterfly, being the non physical entity it is; landing on my past at it’s whim, lurking over my present, with it’s cynical eye turned towards my future. I sit at my desk with the utmost dedication, but my mind fails to comply.  

It astonishes me how nothing much changes itself around me, but everyday I wake up feeling a little different. Sometimes, like waking up as a new person. What I feel guides what I do.

But I do not know how to control what I feel.

I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz

Magic

There are a lot of moments which have me begging
for magical powers that could freeze the universe for a few moments;
So I could be destiny’s handyman,
and shuffle things back where they belong.

From their frenzied, messed up lives,
relocate people to places they needed to be.
To be the prime conspirator,
and tip the dominos of destiny.

Mend the lovers going astray,
couples parting ways.
Pair love with love, passion with heat.
And you right here,

back next to me.