Day #6

I think we are all addicted to pain

The rush, the anger, sorrow, it drives us insane

The way it starts is always ironic
The way we felt so happy and loved that very morning

The way our hearts beat, so loud, almost ultra sonic 

The way we start talking and somehow reach that topic

The way we both think that we are right
The way our chests feel so tight

The way we want this to work, so we try with all our might

The way you say something mean, just a slight

The way we have our very last fight

The way you leave me in tears
The way my ears replay the sound of your retreating car gears

The way this becomes one of my greatest fears

The way I grieve
The way I realise, that it’s okay, they always leave…

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Ps. Shimla is so beautiful…

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Day #5

“I’m on a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend.”

This couldn’t have been truer, for the last few days I feel like my whole existence is meant to be happy. Like what Shakespeare said, if the whole world was a play and all the people were merely actors, I’d have the script of a jester. That’s the problem with being a writer, there have been may before me, talking about the same thing and they’ve already said it, better than I ever could.  
Summer started this Friday, and everything has been quite great since. We had a senior dance at school and it was a blur of guffaws, roses and sweat. 
I’m so excited for summer, I have a school trip from the 23rd to the 30th of April, from the 1st to the 4th I’m at my grandmother’s house and then I’m going to Istanbul! 
Right now, I’m on a plane going for the school trip, to Manali and then Shimla. I can’t wait, getting out of home for 8 days felt like a necessity after the last few days. This trip is going to be my 2nd last trip with school, I only have 1 and a 1/2 years before the only thing about school that will be left with me will be find memories; That thought floods my mind with bittersweet feelings, but for right now I feel like it’s okay if I ignore everything that can cause me even a little sadness, but hey, what do I know?

DAY #4

I love the flowers you grow, even though the bunch always dies
Because the only thing you watered, were the streams in my eyes
I loved the words you uttered, and the songs you muttered but all got were lies
I knew I should have left right then but your arms were my home and your eyes were my blue skies 
I tried to make you love me, dressed up, sang, painted, but all I got in return were failed tries
You were my prize
I loved eventhough everyone else told me it was unwise
I knew in the end you were going to be my definite demise. 
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I’ve decided that every Wednesday is gonna be Poetry Penesday (since my great, creative mind couldn’t think of anything better). 

This is the first Wednesday to many more..


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DAY #3

I jumped, blindly and confidently, I believed that there would be someone there to catch me when I plummeted to the ground. I believed wrong.

I know that I would be standing, waiting for everyone that I cared about if they jumped. I’d stand with safety nets and everything, but as I fell swiftly it slowly dawned on me that there was nobody there for me. Why didn’t anyone love me like I loved them? Do I not deserve their love? Do I expect too much? Did I do something wrong? I must have, because everyone has somebody, right?

If I save everyone, who saves me?

I know that if it was the last five minutes of the world I would call you, but the line would be busy because you would be talking to her.

When I talk about my problems, they sound insignificant compared to everyone else’s, so I don’t talk anymore. When I love someone they love somebody else more than they love me, so I don’t love anymore. When I prioritise someone, they take me for granted, so I try not to care. You might call this selfish but I call it self preservation, but hey, what do I know?

DAY #2

So, I might have over-reacted a little yesterday, okay, a lot. After deleting his number and all that jazz we didn’t talk for one full day and that day was something I never want to relive, but during my whole pity party I never stopped to think what it would be like for him, what the reason for him to act like a jerk was, what was going on in his mind…

Today around 11: 20 am, my phone pinged and my heart rate skyrocketed, it was him. After almost 24 hours of glancing at my phone with no results, it was finally him.

YOU: Hi

ME: Hey

YOU: What’s up

ME: Sorry I’m a bit busy, I’ve got to go… talk to you later?

 

Yup. That’s right. I chickened out, after waiting for so long for him to text first and after getting what I wanted, I chickened out. It felt kind of like being super enthusiastic about a rollercoaster ride, waiting 45 minutes in in the queue and then feeling the shiver of panic when you sit down on the seat. That fleeting moment of paranoia is enough for you to give it all up.

I didn’t lie to him though, I was busy, my mother and I decided to go shopping, because I have a school trip coming up in a few days. Did I mention that shopping with my mother is the ultimate torture for any teenager? Her clothes choice is, well, different, she picks up clothes 2 sizes bigger than mine (I fit into S or M but she will insist on getting an L or XL). I feel mildly offended and not-so-mildly body shamed.

This shopping experience was far from good, because of my mother’s constant nagging and borderline body shaming I had another meltdown in a store and threw a tantrum to buy a T-shirt. I didn’t even really like the T-shirt, I only wanted it because she didn’t want me to have it.

I went home and cried for almost an hour and a half. I skipped lunch and did math, it felt like the perfect Sunday (note my sarcasm). I picked up my phone around when my tears had begun slowing down when I saw his reply:

YOU: Sure

 

I told him everything, about my mom, about how much I wanted to run away, how much my mother and I fought and how I couldn’t wait to move away but he and the point were complete strangers, he told me not to worry about it because she would buy me more clothes eventually (…?). He was on a roll; he told me that he was tired of my complaining and sassy behaviour and when I wanted to have a real and un overdramatic conversation, I could message him.

Then he left.

That’s when I knew something was wrong.

Knowing the kind of person that he is I knew that he would tell me if I pushed hard enough. So I did. He told me that he’s cutting everyone out of his life and wants to keep human association to a bare minimum. I asked him why and whether something had happened.

He said it wasn’t recent, that it was old news, almost a year ago. That’s why he updated his Facebook status to “R.I.P”. Slowly as I joined the dots in my mind my stomach started sinking with the weight of his sorrows. While he was reeling with the agony of his dead mother I stood there complaining about mine. I can be such an insensitive person, but hey, what do I know?

 

DAY #1

Today was the first day in a long time that I didn’t talk to him. Last night when I gave him everything that I could, tried everything that I knew to start conversation, drained myself emotionally and physically, he cut me out. Again. For a long time now he had been my first good morning and last goodnight, little did I know how empty it would feel when one morning I decided to not text first, that he wouldn’t even try. Last night, drowning in my overwhelming feelings, I decided to delete his number and erase every trace of him on my phone. My mind kept wandering to the thought that how could I possibly be so close to someone I’d never met? So, I decided to go to the beginning, replay my sins from the very start.

It was raining, hard, and my friends and I had decided to go watch a live music performance that day. Indy was going to get my pass because she knew someone in the organising committee, but when we reached there she told me that the pass is not only unavailable but non-existent, no one in the whole organisational committee had even heard my name, less got me a pass. So I waited at the entrance in the pouring rain for 45 minutes, cracking jokes aimed bitterly at Indy’s carelessness, when the person standing there, checking tickets suddenly remembered that someone had said something about giving a pass to a girl around my age. Maybe it was his sheer annoyance with us or maybe it was my sheer luck because there were tones of girls my age everywhere around us, that he handed Kaizad Khanna’s pass to me. Super proud of ourselves, we stole someone’s umbrella and sprinted toward the auditorium. We reached in time for the next show, in fact 15 minutes early, but those 15 minutes were enough for you, weren’t they?

I glanced down at my phone, which was surprisingly erupting with a sudden burst of messages. I sighed as Zainab sneered at me, she told me that she had added me to a Whatsapp Group. Zainab had recently moved to another school, bringing her to meet a whole new group of people and she felt that it was only fair if I had to meet them too.

I scrolled through the whole chat and noticed at least a dozen unknown numbers staring in a conversation with more than dozen types of swear words. I glanced at Zainab and raised an eyebrow. Most of the people in the group were guys and coming from a girls’ school, it excited me and scared me at the same time. I knew only 3 or 4 of the 31 participants and that made me feel cool; I had been added onto a group that had a majority of boys and people I didn’t now. Out of the pride and sudden gutsiness I decided to join in mid conversation:

AYUSH- “Shut up okay! You love me ”

ALEX-“Ha ha, rightttt bro”

ME- “Lol no, I bet that even your mother and girlfriend don’t love you”

YOU- “Don’t talk to me, you don’t even know me”

*YOU LEFT THIS WHATSAPP GROUP*

What a sissy, I’d thought, little did I know that that little text would haunt me forever. I showed Zainab how I had dissed a guy on my first day on that group and watched as her face visibly paled. The breath in my throat hitched as learned what a rude and insensitive thing I had just done. She told me that his girlfriend just dumped him that day and his mother passed that month.

The band picked up in a sudden burst, and even though it was lively and exciting, it seemed melancholic to me.

I had messaged you privately that very moment and apologised profusely. From that very moment I knew that we were going to be friends, great ones, and from that very day I been there for you, always.

We talked about school, about your friends, about your football team, about how much you loved kids, about your haircuts and about your girlfriend. We talked about you and I didn’t mind, because at least we talked. Sometimes I would get mad at how jealous your girlfriend would get, but that’s a story for another day. Our conversations, however insignificant started meaning the world to me. Sometimes I would send you snippets of my writing, poems and art work but you would always react with things like, “nice”, “cool”, “that’s deep, bro” and I didn’t take your lack of praise to the heart, it only encouraged me to keep writing better, to impress you, until you told me that you weren’t going to read it anymore because it was too long, that’s when  realised that if people were givers and takers, you would be a thief and I would continue to give you my heart, my soul, my mind and everything in between without a thought otherwise.

To me you were an escape, but to you I was merely another face in the crowd.

You spoke to me when you were bored and I was bored when I wasn’t speaking to you. In a few months, you became my priority while in your mind I was still the girl who decided to intrude on your personal life via the internet. People have told me that I have a habit to make myself the victim, but you never told me how you felt.

Today was the first day not talking to you in a long time, it felt like my heart had been on drugs the entire time and was now having withdrawal symptoms. But it is true, isn’t it? People are like drugs they make you addicted to the way they make you feel. And you made me feel special, like I mattered to you, but you made everyone feel like that, didn’t you?

I deleted your number and decided that I was done trying, done trying to always fix things and realised that it is only so far that someone can go around fixing things until they become broken too. So, thank you, thank you for finally breaking me and I know that it’s disgusting but I still hope that somewhere my broken parts will somehow find your broken parts and someday, maybe, we could form a complete and beautiful whole. I still think that you could love me like I love you, but hey, what do I know?

~ Yours until oblivion,

Neeti.

DAY #0

Hi…

Anything that I say over here is going to sound uncomfortable and awkward because it’s my first blog, my first entry in a never ending diary and I have this feeling in my gut that this could make or break everything. I feel like I’m typing all my feelings out into a stranger’s heart, giving up possession of my very last belongings.

Some days I feel like everything around me comes crashing down slowly and then some days I feel like everything is crashing down swiftly, so fast that even if I tried to stop it, I couldn’t. I feel like maybe I should have something steady, something that will be constant, something that I can rely on, hence I made this blog. People will come and go, but the internet is forever, right?

I will write here everyday, about things that inspire me or things that slowly kill me, because according to me those are the only two categories of things, but hey, what do I know?

– Yours until oblivion,

Neeti.