there was something about him. the way i wanted to devour every word that came out of his mouth. there was a sort of mystery. i never knew what he is going to say. i hate that. not knowing what someone is going to say. but with him, it felt right. it was never wrong, never something i wouldn’t have liked. i don’t know if he knew me so well that he wouldn’t dare offend me or he was like that, just the way i would have wanted. he was just the kind of person you never run out of things to talk about. it didn’t feel like an effort.
there was something about him. the way i just wished for some honesty. there was a sort of mystery. i never knew why he always tip-toed around me. i hate that. not being able to be vulnerable around people. and with him, it was always like that. it was never about getting through, always about running away. i don’t know what made him like that, was it me or was it his life, i would never know. he was the kind of person you never talk about intimate things to. it always felt like an effort.
I just wanted to let you know I don’t love you anymore. I don’t love you anymore. I don’t love you anymore.
I have grown out of you like I grew out of my favourite dress when I was 13. I didn’t want to, but I did. I think when you stop loving, you either stop loving them gradually or finally. Finally you stop loving someone who obviously wasn’t right for you. Gradually you stop loving someone who could have been right for you. I think I gradually stopped loving you, almost as if I wasn’t meant to. Now that I think about it, what does “right for me” mean anyway? Who is right for me? Someone who’d have to trim their square sides off to fit in my circle? No, you have forced me to believe that that is me. But I know I’m not like that. The thing I like the most about people is how different they are. Even when I’m writing this your words keep ringing in my head like accusations. Accusations about who I claim to be but am not. Maybe this is why I stopped loving you. Maybe the thing I hate the most about not loving you is having to admit it.
That is why let me tell you today- I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you.
feeling lost again empty maybe only lost who am i what am i here for what should i do right now should i sleep should i take pills to sleep because i slept all day today to avoid feeling nothing how to find the purpose of today of this hour oh god help me send me your angel send me your demons send me your enemies not asking to send your loved ones im probably not worthy send me some hope send me some love send me a ray of light or some pain at least if you cant love me abuse me at least i yearn to feel something even if its your rage i can come visit you this afternoon i have no plans or maybe tonight or maybe this weekend just waiting for a sign from you that its time for me to come home to you how long must i fight before you realise that i was never meant to supposed to win bless me and take me this world is not made for me it aches to talk, it aches to live these people know not of love they know not of me they only know of arrogance and ignorance where this comes to them from i know not of why must i not give up when all you have shown me is otherwise you are the holy and i have faith i know you see my pain there is no glory there is no glory just take me just take me
From going to parties we don’t give a fuck about to making love to someone who wouldn’t ever have the guts to ask us out.
We love. We sin.We fall. We learn.
The more we try to numb the feeling of being invisible, the less we feel the need to live happily ever after.
After getting high we toss our shoes in some part of the sea we don’t know the name of, losing something insignificant was just the start. Then, throwing empty beer bottles on the ground, we start laughing our hearts out when we see them break in a thousand pieces. But we bleed when we step on them, heading towards wherever we want. We leave behind bloody footprints and learn from our mistakes. Wanting to be found again, we learn what comes around, goes around.
Then one of us says we should wait until we stop bleeding and our wounds heal, the guy with the green hair refuses and says it could take forever. It was difficult to decide whether we should move on or wait but someone said who cares and we moved on. Being the prodigal daughters and sons we were, with our riches, we make money rain. Yet we spit on homeless people we come across. Bare footed around 3 am we play hide-and-seek, hiding our scars and seeking empathy to pour in our empty jars. But we are too drunk to notice and only wish we were sober again.
Wondering how beautiful the dawn would be at 7 am, we find hope all over again. But of course, we remember hope is a dangerous thing. Never to love too much, never to dream too much, never to hope too much were the promises we had made. Yet in the 6 hours and God knows how many minutes we had known each other for, we knew we had to end it today.
Some of us fell in love that day, we knew it was going to happen that’s why we carried the required first aid. We help each other get over it and marvel at how similar were the situations we had suffered. But back then we were alone and invisible, now we’re grown and raw, bold and loud. We race as fast as we can to highest building we could see. We stopped near the gate and decided to act sober, the boys act like chivalrous gentlemen and the girls like the most respected ladies. But we knew we were the fuckboys and sluts of the new age. We hide our true selves but in vain. We race up to the terrace. Some of us win and some lose but nobody gives a fuck. We feel our hearts beating fast and then faster than ever. On the 108th floor, it truly was something of a different sort. We sit down on the floor and confess our sins. We laugh when we hear some and cry our hearts out when we hear others. We are the sinners, the lovers and the misfits of today. Oh the feeling of starting it all over again keeps coming to us, we ignore it and push it aside and curse it and blame it and hate it. All seven of us get up and stand on the walls of the terrace then we sing our favourite songs. Then one, two, three. We jump.
(P.S: wrote this when I was 16, probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever written. Thanks to today’s writer’s block you get to read this! )
1. i think sometimes when you look at people in the eye just enough, you can almost see who they are even if you don’t know them i dont know if i think its lovely or if im terrified of it
2. maybe i could be anyone. i don’t know who i am, maybe i am ever changing.
3. its so easy to be hard on yourself. (i could write a book about this)
4. why must people die is it just to show us we are insignificant and nothing is in our control its like listening to a beat that makes you dance but you can never hear it again. finally finding someone that you love and losing them to death, oh what a broken heart you must have what an irony, we try to control everything when we can die the next moment if you knew you are gonna die tomorrow, what’d you do today? you should do that as much as you can. thats the only true thing that matters
5. oh, how insignificant are you with your assumptions about me, with the love you have for me that i dont need, with your rage and hate and disgust, with your ideas of me oh how insignificant you are
6. i have been trying to get my heart broken since January of this year just to feel something
7. today i feel like how i felt when i was 15. helpless.
8. if you stop loving someone because they hurt you, destroy you was your love unconditional after all
9. this feeling of losing interest in someone who’s not good for you how with every line they say that you used to adore makes you roll your eyes now
Of course, it is a normal piece of paper. Can’t do anything too fancy (maybe later). I don’t know if I’ve ever written you a letter. Maybe today I have missed you the most, maybe it was enough for me to sit and write. Missing you like I would miss a fresh splash of water on a sunny day, missing you like I would miss the cool breeze of air that makes a night walk perfect. Sorry, but when I write letters they ought to be romantic. I don’t think letters are letters without their romance. I just realized that July is such a weird month. What even happens in July? It’s right in the middle. No one remembers what happens in July. I am happy that I gave something (this letter) for you to remember (and for me too) this July of 2021. It makes me feel bitter how difficult it is to write about someone else, even if you’ve known them for years, even if they’ve lived in your dreams and thoughts for a significant amount of time. How can we be so consumed with ourselves and everything around us that we give others no power to even be remembered deservedly? Anyway, turns out exercising does release a lot of the oh-so-fucking-good hormones. I wish I can make everyone exercise. Is it boring to read about someone else’s thoughts in a letter addressed to you? I would have hated it. On that note, I really do miss you today. I think I am feeling really grateful for someone like you to be a part of my life. It is like having a bench only to ourselves in the middle of an apocalypse. Buildings are burning, there is no hope for tomorrow, people are killing each other, there is a stench of malice in the air- but somehow, none of this reaches our little bench. It’s just you and me smoking a nicotine-free cigarette and laughing at existential jokes- mostly made by you, you’re good at that. Well, I guess what I mean to say is, I love you.
and then i started looking for things that won’t hurt me.
something that doesn’t have a heartbeat. something that doesn’t have charming eyes. something that doesn’t know what my favourite show is. something that doesn’t always know the right thing to say. something that doesn’t stay up till 7am for me. something that doesn’t teach me how to love my mother. something that doesn’t spend every festival with me. something that doesn’t send me songs every monday. something that doesn’t say i love you twice in 10 seconds.
more like,
a sad movie in a fresh blanket, a spoonful of peanut butter, a shower after working hard, a sight of stars, a splash of colour on a canvas, a sacrifice of sugar, a shiny earring, a song in my “recommendations for you”, a sea reflecting moonlight, a sandwich with cheese.
Breaking The 4th Wall 