Everything depends on time, sometimes it's too early or sometimes it's too late. Nothing is in our hands. So just listen to your heart and give it your best❤️ Was just writing whatever was coming to my mind since 1 week. Now posting it I know I am not good in writing but I love to express my thoughts and will keep doing that. Love you guys ❤️
A place where I have spent most hours of my life except home. A place where I have laughed as hell and cried as well. A place where I have been a part of many events. A place where I have gone through all my ups and downs. Few friends turning classmates and few peers turning friends for life. I have memories attached to this place, and that place is my school. Where when most people were mass bunking due to rain, I went just to attend my LTA class. This place I always looked forward to go. This place I never made an excuse of stomach ache. Yes I had lots of fun as others, I am not a keetabi keeda . From Eating aloo bhujia in between classes, to going and watching a badminton tournament along with other friends, to eating Domino's Pizza which was meant for participants To cutting birthday cake with all my classmates(Best birthday so far) , to going to that same picnic ( educational expedition) place for more than 5 times till now and still counting, then complaining about it and then again wanting to go to the same place
I remember I came to this school because my two bestest friends from other school came to this one and I became a stubborn child and I came to this school. When I came I was allotted a different section so I was really upset. But the teachers and other classmates were so good that they made me feel really better. That time it was just a building for me but now it is my second home. Since then it's been ten years(still counting) and I don't want to leave this place ever. I have made many friends here and feel proud that I am known in the school for my achievements and not mischief
From not liking a teacher and then crying and getting seriously ill when she leaves is what I will remember always. From being called a chota packet bada dhamaka (in class 3 and didn't know what it meant) to now knowing it's true meaning. From being teased for being short and getting upset about it ,to now saying that I don't give a damn about it. From standing at the front because I was short to now fighting to stand in the front because I want to listen to principal' s address. From losing in a quiz badly and next year becoming the mentor for the same quiz. From thinking I won't be able to hold the winners trophy for quiz and then being called on the stage and getting to hold that trophy(more than that the words my idol said for me)for being the mentor is a memory I will never forget.
If I keep writing I won't be able to end this because it is a bunch of memories which will never terminate.
*****Any grammatical mistakes please pardon me, wrote in a flow******
Whenever I see my pictures of birthday I have tears rolling down my eyes. As I do not know where you are, how you are but I know one thing that wherever you are, you are happy. I miss you a lot but cannot express this in words. There is one particular reason for writing this letter to you right now. I vividly remember how close are bond was. Staying at each others house for whole day. Studying , eating and sometimes even we slept at each others house (our house). The day you were leaving although I was very small to understand it, but I cried. It is the world full of technology now but back then there were no other means of communication other than personally meeting.
Sometimes I cannot speak what I feel but I guess if you would have been there you would have understood me. I feel that we both would have not been only friends but sisters for life. Whenever I see my younger sister I feel that we would have shared the same bond. I don't even know that where you are but I feel one day this letter would surely reach you and you would read this one.
The worst nightmare, or sometimes the best blessing, for a writer is when his writings start revolving around him. When he becomes the protagonist, when he suffers all those pain he spent evening singing lullabies and writing melodies on. And this reality comes running for each one of the writers, mine did too. ' Single. Pregnant. Depressed. ', the three words I used to define myself 5 years ago. I was living my own scribbles, wondering if I was really a great writer or just one of the many writers whose loneliness make them so bleak that they are lost in the prism of reality and imagination. The loss of love was making me motionless day by day, and I was about to give up on numbness itself when I felt a different pain, the pain of life inside my womb. That was the most difficult time, the time when the decision of destroying one more life or letting it bloom( if not like a rose then like a daffodil in my garden ) , this decision was in my hand. And I randomly or maybe because of what fate had prepared for me, I came across one of the letters I wrote, a years back, though it feels like a century..
Dear Death, This is a letter to you. Maybe I am too small to even think of this, but I have a grudge for you, and because I have nothing left, I don't want to take this grudge to wherever afterlife takes me. Well dear death, this isn't just a letter about complains, this is the only one I could ever write, because when I think of familiarity, think of you. This could have been a symphony to life, but life left me hopeless, so with whatever hope left, this is a regard to you.
The only grudge I have against you is that I wish you waited for me to be born, to take my first breath, before you extended your beckoning hands to my body. ( Or maybe my soul, I was just a foetus afterall, but I heard the nurse say that a soul never dies, I told you I am too small to even think of think and here I am writing this letter to you. ) If you even run across my mother, tell her that I love her for bringing me in this world, oops, to you. It is because of her that I possess this familiarity in you. If you have trouble recognising her, all I know of her is the warmth of her womb and her insecurities.
Dear death, I wish to looked at life as closely as you do, every single day entering the world and liberating some new lives and at times, some foetuses like me. I wonder what it is like to be born.
One of your preachers (Though my mother never taught me what that is.)
After reading this, though teary eyed, I made my decision, to held onto this life growing inside me. And I understood that I wasn't just going through a single fight but actually two. One was mine, which was preparing me to become a mother and the other one, was that of the writer within me, who was growing to understand that 'Pain is inevitable, but suffering is an option ' which taught me that there will be days when my mind will be filled with dark thoughts, but in the end it is the goodness which will get me across. "The bad may be the fulcrum the world works on But it is the good it stabilizes on."
Five years spent, and I found love and life both in my daughter, Eva (which means to live.)
- Rutvi The reason I wrote this? A tiktok video. No not at all, just kidding. Written in one go, so please don't mind if any spelling errors. I always forget giving picture credits .. P.c. - Pinterest
Writing after quite a long time. Had a serious blockage in my writer heart (don't gape at me, notice the metaphor.) So here's a piece I've written in a story prose-like style in which I've poured some virtues that I've learnt (not from my experience but) from my overthinking. Hope you'll enjoy it till I check all the leftover submissions in my free time. :3
You used to live in an old apartment with all the windows broken. Streetlights used to peek inside your lonely dark room to find you breathing melancholy and your cold aura kept all your friends far from you. In a cigarette shop near the station, you met a guy who had a smile like young cornflowers and a velvety voice. You came straight back home and found your heart missing from your chest. Next day you kissed him and took him home with you. That little apartment of yours was no longer a hullabaloo of darkness and ivies, but bushes of wild cornflowers instead. He loved you till your bruises were gone. But his love was like smoking cigarette in summer, burning you inch to inch, till your heart was just fluttering ashes. And he left you in the morning, burying you gingerly in a grey, raining cloud, with no words of console.
I know you miss him, because his love, even though ephemeral, was the prettiest moment of your life. And that's the thing about beautiful things; they seem precious as they end. Imagine if hurricanes never existed, would you still look for peaceful nights?
' , ' .
The whole next week you cursed yourself for letting a stranger steal your heart. And you feel stone-hearted like never before, for when it started beating the very first time, it broke into brittle pieces. You keep rounding that cigarette shop every evening that always remains closed now, as though looking for clues at a crime scene. You sit alone on a bench, watching the empty metroes pass by, feeling lonely as ever. You feel like sadness is your home now, and you go outside to clean those dead cornflowers, whose petals have dwindled from cerulean blue to ashen grey. Again, each night that streetlight clambers into your bedroom to find you sobbing; you're too afraid to be happy now, 'cause you feel if you love again, you'll break even more now, so what's the meaning of being fine again?
The thing you didn't see is sadness was never your home, it was the hurricane that wrecked your home. And hurricanes do last; maybe you can't see behind the clouds, but the greys will fade soon. Till then, look for warmth in yourself. The day you'll forgive him you'll find the clouds running dry, your pieces of heart lifting up to fasten into one. (But remember everytime your heart joins again, it's never the same way. Maybe this time it'll be stronger and persistent. You never know until you fall in love again.)
Your ashen heart has curled back into an ivory flower, and you watched it bloom like a greek folktale. You had to shed almost every piece of older you, so you can paint yourself in a milder yet fierce shade of demure blue. Now you've forgiven your lover, not because he was right, but because you deserve peace. You've realised that fake loves are charming but ephemeral while true love's a diamond coated in leaden grey. For all the pain you suffered to heal, all the blood you bled for scars to disappear, you don't care. Now all you know is there's a blue sky, and when the storm'll place its feet in your city again, you're not gonna blame yourself and cry.
Healing hurts, doesn't it? But curiously, it's only after you're fine that you realise how much you needed to be broken.
I wander in these streets, aimlessly and hopelessly looking at each person that passes by.
I have been walking on this land for a long time, and I have seen different kinds of demons that reside inside each person's mind. I have held other people's regrets and sometimes, I have introduced them to this figure called 'realisation'.
Some days, I look at my reflection in the water, and I feel like so many things reside inside me. Whether it be people's deeds or the consequences I let them face.
It's the rule of nature, you get what you do. And so they chose me, and named me Karma. Since then, I have been travelling like a traveller without a destination, mindlessly, just walking.
And then there comes a great time, when I divide. I divide, and parts of me go to distant places, to people who deserve those parts of me. And when the work is done, when the result is served, the pieces come back to me making me feel whole again.
It's not in my hands, to control someone's action. What is in my hand, is to give them back what they once did. Whether it be after a minute, or after years, I have to give them the result in order to keep the cycle going, and let the good and the bad not overpower each other.
I have become too philosophical these days, as I realized that each and every person has two sides; one which is your better half, and one which is your worse half. And both of them are necessary these days, because too much of anything is bad. Too much of good will get you to a place where you are a prisoner of your own goodness. Too much of bad leads you to a place where you have no option left rather than chaining yourself up, and shutting yourself out.
So to create the balance, the nature created me.
I am a traveller, an immortal amalgamation of their actions. I am an inevitable concept, which lies inside each person's conscience.
I am good for the person who suffered, and I am bad for the person who's responsible for the suffering. And in all of the decades I've travelled, I realized one thing.
It's not necessary that the sufferer and the sadist should reside inside different bodies.
Because, believe me, I have seen some people where both of them are inside one soul. And these people are torn apart, they lie at a point where the sadist is pulling them while the sufferer is holding on to them.
And if I don't enter, this pulling and holding on ends up making them choose one side.
No matter what happens, I have to prevent them from choosing.
Cause as I said earlier, too much of anything is bad.
She just left like a worse nightmare & i lost like a damm donkey.
When a girl cheated over her bf than boy becomes very conscious he force to live in brain disdain for long, he picks up cigarettes & liquor, where weeks after boy receive a news that his gf gotta a new bf and she is living happy and don't need him anymore.(yeah true)there must be many purposes for relationship 1.both want to pass the time. 2.(competition)his/her friend have a gf/bf why shouldn't he/she....!!!? 3.some fall in so called love,but actually was there is lust.
Most common fact/situation that we know.
But the real story is beyond the scene. So here is the my first story which is not real but i tried very hard to give it a reality.
It was in the destiny that we met It was in the destiny that we came closer,everything was all pre planned it was meant for us to be together but who knew,it was only for a season. 187 minutes and 335 militers of vodka is what i took to gulb down her memories. We departed....it was in the destiny that we met again(yeah) i was living in the town for 3 years when i see her again from miles apart.((after 27 blind dates and i still find myself making my way back to you))
Feeling inside me was like......... All i want is the feel of your touch ,so gentle on my skin,the warmth of your breath caressing my neck,the beat of your heart, the softness of ur lips,when you kissed my forehead,warming smile and spark in your eyes.....again i come closer to you it was more & more closer than previous one.
But after some months girl did the same as she does earlier.