Near a faded facade, I sat and looked at the end of the day while the dusk was there to gulp the last beam of sun and they disappeared suddenly. And I became alone again with lots of recollections and heartbreaks inside my tiny heart. My heart didn't want to hold those dwindled cum exhausting agonies. So I started to assemble them and to pour them on a paper. I started writing.
“The fragrance of those middle pages of a new book, always attract me and to smell them, I read them while deriving my satisfaction to detach from the real world and to create my own visionary world inside my eyes. But that world is true ; they never lie to me, I cry with them and I laugh with those characters, I enjoy the holidays with Alice and eat the vanilla cake with a hungry cat.
But when the pages of that book try to romanticize me with its amorous scenes, I feel a little shy and a pretty curve abuts my cheek deliberately. But it ends when the dracula eats all those characters and I become alone. Everything becomes dark and I sleep with an inkpot with dark inks. I write about Charlie with the colors of chocolate. I scribble about a book thief with my bloodstains. I put down about a giving tree with my pallid face and a relishing smile. I'll write about me tomorrow. all characters will twirl around me, always.”
But I forgot what I was about to write, I was about to write something related to you and me but I became the “Paper-bag princess” of my world and inside my unlighted casket.
Dear me, I hope this reaches you at your lowest, I hope this letter reminds you, you are not weak. Stay alive, Stay alive for me.
No one knows you the way you know you This doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong.
Do you remember the days when you found yourself often homesick? Well, aren't you happy to be finally at home now.
Remember when both your hands used to bleed? They don't anymore, doesn't that make you proud.
Cleaning others scratches, while your wounds are infected uncleaned and hidden. Tell me, Jacinta why are you not proud of yourself ? Helping others when the one needed it, was you. Comforting them with words your ears longed to hear. Ignoring your pain, to be at their side and wanting nothing in return, who taught you to be this way?
Don't give up, don't give up on yourself You only have you.
You don't have to be alone You'll hold yourself with your own arms You'll wipe your own tears You'll never have someone to call your own, Kyuki koi kaha kisi ka hota hai
There's a bully in your head, Knock him down Don't let him get the best of you.
Why do you not love yourself the way you love others, I hope when you are lost you search for you and not anyone else. You do not have to force a smile You do not have to always help someone You do not have to read a book or listen to a song just because they recommend it to you even when it's not your genre You do not have to talk to people when that hurts you.
You can distance yourself You can heal You can cry, you can feel You can smile only when you feel like You can do as you wish, You are free now.
Love yourself, love yourself. Look in the mirror and for today don't wish to be someone else.
Yours one & only You
20 February | 11:20 am
This is a letter from the other side of me, To the other side of me.
It's going to get heavy, and it will never really be better. But you can still hope. And stop harming yourself. You are so precious okay.
I glanced at the calendar with hazy eyes, 14th February, a smile crept on my face. I wore my favourite black dress with the red cashemere sweater my grandma left me.
Climbed down the stairs, saw my mother coming with a big smile and s a i d - 'You look beautiful dear.' I kissed her cheek, took your favourite book and went out.
I was walking by looking at other couples, walking hand in hand and our memories flashed in my mind. The time we used to walk in library and you tied my hair every- time so I can focus on the book.
The aroma of warm coffee mixed with the fragrance of red heather that made you drowsy every time. I remember tucking your hair behind your ear when you slept with your head on the book.
I walked by and looked at our favourite bakery where an old couple once complim- ented us by saying that we looked like them when they were kids and in love with each other.
I stood in front of the theatre where we first watched 'Harry Potter' together and you slept with our hands intertwined and your head on my s h o u l d e r.
I reached the flower shop and bought 17 roses with three lilies like you told me, blushing at the thought of meeting you later and reading your favourite book with my head on your lap.
I walked the 7 meter aisle form the door to your stone, knelt down and placed the flowers. I touched the snowflake hanging at my neck that you gifted me on my 13th birthday.
I smiled at all of our memories and now love, 'I walked with roses, lilies and your favourite book, so tell me, Will you be my valentine?' The tree above you ruffled and and I sat down with my back on the trunk.
This is our third date, the third time you've brought me lilies right after you've held the car door open, after you've been the perfect gentleman with your pre-booked table and fancy restaurant. Third time I've bit my lip and smiled even when I know this isn't for me, this is for her, who left you stinging, right in the chest where it hurts the most, because now you've buried your heart deep in the forest and I'm the bad priestess, cursing her under my breath holding on to these godforsaken flowers at the end of every night.
It was my mother who taught me not everyone comes to you wholely, some come broken, and much like the vase that you purchase, the one with the obvious cracks but couldn't leave behind because it was much too precious, it only took one glance to know that you were that vase. This girl who broke you, she knew nothing of those cracks, she didn't see how hard you tried, to be gentle, to pay attention, how you heard her say she liked lillies one time and now that's all you see at the flower market. She left you broken, and left me a vase to mend, so now I have both my hands out, holding you gently, trying as much as you tried, to seal these gapes only to dump dead flowers the next day. You see, my ego never lets me water them even when I know we can never truly be together unless I water your flaws as well as your kindness.
My mother never did tell me, how to love a man with a mask on and I never did care to ask, I was arrogant enough to believe something so utterly pathetic will never happen to me but now you ask me everytime before you kiss me and I just want to scream. I want to yank these flowers in your face and yell I hate them, my constant reminder that you're perfect and not mine, I loathe the fact that I'm not enough to soothe your ache, but instead I nod with kinder eyes and let our lips take solace in the fact that we're both frauds, we're both faking comfort in the arms of the other. This could very well be my pride talking, but one day you'll greet me with roses at my front door and kiss me without a care in the world, so until then, I'll smile through my teeth. Till then I'll hold on to these lillies, her favourite.