Millennial Moment

The way she clutches her hand,

The way her leg keeps making certain movements,

The way she keeps ticking her fingernail on her table, 

The way her toe keeps doing that rhythmic motion,

The way her mind keeps working, 

The way sweat tickles her spine, 

The way her heartbeats makes deafening noise,

The way a thousand pins prickled her head,

The way she breathes profoundly, 

The way her teeth clenches to the extent it starts screeching,

The way she feel shapes forming up in darkness,

The way her demons come to look her in the eye and say ‘hello’,

The way she feels cold to her bones,

The way she trembles and her bones hurt mournfully,

The way she keeps tracing the same circle again and again and again…The way she starts her life from the scratch every few months,

That’s exactly how anxiety feels like! 


Colour Palette Of Emotions 

Life is always colourful, emotions take on different colours. Colours say a lot about about you! People bleed emotions and colours help them. When you are happy, you will put on a bright yellow, or an orange or maybe green. When gloomy, you’ll naturally go for darker shades, a blue which is almost black, or maybe grey which defines your wounds are fresh. 

Too much pain have different language, depression have different expression, a bipolar rambler will choose black, pitch black. A schizophrenic will choose strokes of dark colours in black, which eventually makes it chaotic. 

“But all the colours will agree in dark”, she said. Because she knew dark the best. 

Perennial Insanity


She wakes up, earlier than usual, feeling groggy and kinda lost. She’s sitting there on the bed for a while now, not making an effort to make sense of time or day even. She’s still feeling lost, like she woke up from some long sleep and don’t remember the day or date. She feels she might get late for work so she tries to see the watch hanging by her bed, it’s six in the morning so she cannot be late. She sits there for some more time, maybe an hour, without thinking anything or feeling anything but lost. Now she is kinda tired of feeling this emptiness so she takes her cell phone to change the alarm as she feels the need of sleeping for a bit longer, and she realizes it’s Sunday morning. She doesn’t know what to feel, happy or sad. She sleeps back, and slept through the day. Wakes up in between but felt useless to wake up so she slept again.
After sleeping for almost whole day she wakes up in the evening feeling same. Early morning she was under the impression that this weird feeling will leave her when she will wake up again, but well she was wrong.
She felt empty; the emptiness returned her after some specific period. She’s good for a while; she’ll talk more, laugh more, will be more cheerful than usual and will be totally alive. But then something happens, like a switch turns off somewhere and all she’s left with is darkness of her mind. But each time it seems like she sinks deeper and deeper, and she is scared… terrified that one day she won’t make it back up; she feels like she is gasping for air, screaming for help but everyone just looks at her, with confused faces. Wondering what she is struggling over so much when they’re all doing just fine. And it makes her feel insane, she feels like she is losing her sanity day by day, minute by minute. She feels like the mask of her sanity is falling off, like she won’t be able to pull it off any longer.
On the days like this when she doesn’t have anything pressingly urgent that requires her attention she ends up feeling weird things; things that she is able to avoid habitually in her busy and occupied routine. Looking around herself makes her feel even more worse, because she has people around her who looks up to her, she cannot help but sit in a dark corner with a book in her hand and thousands of question in her mind. She feels sick, the way sadness is addicting. The way she can’t stop, sadness for her is familiar. It’s comfortable and it’s easy in a sense that it comes naturally to her. But everything else about it is hard, the way her body aches with self-hatred, the way her mind spins with hopeless thoughts, the way it poisons everything she does, every effort she makes, every relationship she has, yet it’s addicting. Maybe because she knows it very well; and there’s a sort of comfort in that, like being home after a trip or sleeping in your own bed after being away for a while. She feels like that’s where she belongs, that’s how it is supposed to be.
For her nothing is permanent, no relation, no emotion nothing but the weird longing she feels in her soul for something very raw yet totally unknown. She has this longing since forever, since she knew emotions and feelings she found herself craving for something that cease to exist. That made her go insane, the hole keeps getting bigger and it might just swallow her existence someday. The thing with her is nothing is enough for her; no one is enough for her. For a while things and people will satisfy her or she might feel her situations are improving but actually it’s not. It’s just her illusion; she keeps on repeating the same damn thing, again and again, expecting shit to change.
And I guess that’s what is called insanity!!IMG-20160103-WA0002

Torments of a wanderer.


She doesn’t belong to anyone.. She’s a tornado, a mess to be precise.She has always been a mess, a devastatingly beautiful mess that no one could ever understand. Her ways were esoteric, something that was not accepted by society.

She dreamt about stuff that was tough to imagine, she dreamt of some another world. Because she belonged to some another world maybe.

She was not just some gal, her ways, her dreams, but most of all her soul made her what she became. Her soul was never at peace, it was always on fire, burning like some mad thing and with that fire she burnt bright. What made her bright was not her beauty, but the fire that kept burning inside her. She always used to say that something’s burning inside her, it never let her rest, sometimes it made hard for her to even breath.

Her relations were always at stake, not because she doesn’t feel anything but because she felt too much. She never understood any relations, not even the most basic ones. For her things were not always just black and white, most of the things for her was in grey shade. She had darkness inside her, too much of it. The darkness tormented her, made her devastatingly beautiful in some esoteric ways that nobody can fathom. For her monsters and demons were not something that wriggled under her bed, they never clattered in her closet, they didn’t  scratched at windows or captured her feet in the night.. They were always too busy screaming underneath her skin, and that was exactly how she want it to be!! Her demons were wrapped so beautifully in her skin!! She made her blisters look beautiful in some of the most obscure ways.

She was a wanderer, she never settled down, her soul never did actually!! She couldn’t settle for anything or anyone. She craved for things that she didn’t understand.. The things she craved, those very things broke her, it tormented her. She had a furor of passion, that very passion killed her gradually. She was scared how her heart longed for things that plagued her very being.

She’s a women that belonged to nothingness, but still they tried to tame that wild being!!

Unrequited Affection


That’s not her…
She doesn’t leave something in order to hold something else.
She can’t run away from something so she can catch up on something else.
She cant put something down to pick something up.
She can’t let go off something so she can make room for something new.
She is not someone who would undo what’s done.
She can’t unlove someone to love someone else.
They pile in her heart like stack of cards… One on top of the other, untill she can’t tell them apart.
Old loves are bottomless – deeply carved and full of darkness. In which she often loses herself…
If you’ve ever known her love, it still exists there.
And it always will.
She loses a bit of herself when her love is lost, be it a best friend or life partner or a brother. She can never be the same once that bit is gone.
It is her gift, her curse..
Her ache and her fuel..

Serrated Bruises


I swear, the ones who need love the most, have hardest time letting it in. I’ve always admired the ones who met their match early in life, then walk forever, hand in hand. Loved each other for the rest of their lives!! Growing old together…
That’s not her story. She still recoiled, if you came too close to her heart, and had learned the difference between “love”…. And being “in love”.
She still feel her stomach churn with pain thinking of being in love and her wounds come afresh…
When you give yourself to another, to no avail, you learn to become someone else’s entirely. And the woman she became was not for the faint of heart. She loves without any boundaries or limitations. For her, love is something, which needs no thinking, no limitations, nothing…
The things she once thought true proved to be wrong, so how long can she believe in you? Those shattered pieces of dreams, the pieces that are making her bleed now. How long can she hold on to that?
When you go as far as she’s gone, anything less than that feels like nothing at all. When you feel what she has felt and then get hurt, you go numb.
She loved with all her heart and she’s been shattered into pieces for loving so much.
She was made for midnights, and believe me you won’t need much sleep when you’re with her. She has magic in her veins, some untamed wildness in her eyes. She’ll make you believe in your dreams.
And as you’ll learn to love each of her pieces, you’ll start making sense of yourself.