Do you ever feel nostalgic for something that did not even happen?
Something you wished so bad would happen but never did, or maybe you never had the courage to let it happen or you tried your damnest for it to happen, but well, the universe had the upper hand.
Maybe you felt disappointed for a while but eventually realised that it was for the better or maybe you made yourself believe that it was probably for the better. So now when you lay awake around that 2am time, how does it feel when you look back at it? Is it nostalgia for something you imagined would happen? And the imagination was so overpowering that it almost felt real? Does it happen often?
Does it leave you feeling empty? Does your heart ache a little too much even today though it was a long time ago?
Whether you’re aching or empty, let me tell you something, something i feel is the reason the situation turned out to be the way it did. Maybe it is better it never happened, because what if the disappointment of it never reaching the level of your imagination was way more heartbreaking?
What if unknowingly you were in for more ache than fulfilment?
I am aware about the whole deal of what ifs and how you shouldn’t live in what ifs but it happened once and that is okay, what is not okay is being so hard on yourself for the sole reason of the not-happening.
And this could be taken as a lesson to be taken forward for the next time you hold yourself back from something. There is too much to talk and write about that which did not happen because of the speculations and the freedom of imagination, Maybe that is what is creating poetry for someone, some kind of art for someone.
So don’t feel disheartened, you tried, even if you didn’t think you did, you tried and the universe acknowledged it.
Been doing that thing where I listen to way too much music and zone out more than usual.
That thing I do where i completely lose myself in a book to the point where reality is what appears as a break.
More sleeping than usual, more staying in bed even if it’s just Laying around and not getting work done.
Taking road trips just for the heck of it and trying to accomplish the task of reading along with not wanting to miss out on the view.
Just sitting by the window when it starts raining and doing nothing but listening to the sound of rain.
A little more observing and less speaking.
August, you’ve been one taking-it-easy on the self kinda month so far.
This is that kind of a collection of poetry which will leave the readers either too underwhelmed or too overwhelmed. From what I have heard from people, this collection either became one of their absolute favourites or they were just gravely disappointed.
It is Divided into 4 parts, namely: the hurting, the loving, the breaking and the healing.
Trigger warning: rape and sexual abuse.
There is not much that I can really say to give an idea about this book so I am just going to talk about how I felt about it.
I bought this book after hearing rave reviews about it in all the bookish communities everywhere. The day it was delivered I went to a café near my college and finished it in one sitting, no kidding, it does not take long. The writing is nothing fancy though, so if you are looking for a literary masterpiece that you can break down and analyze, I do not think this book is it. But I think the simplicity of it is what makes it so special amongst many other things. This collection of modern poetry that doesn’t take a lot from you while reading, you don’t have to mentally prepare yourself to read some heavy poetry kind of thing, it is easy to absorb. There no going out of your way to understand and relate to it, it just happens effortlessly.
And it is not like I rushed through, I took my time absorbing every word, every line and allowing myself to feel whatever it was making me feel. There were parts of it that I felt connected to so much that I just had to close the book for a few sections and take in the reality of it. There were times when I had tears in my eyes, times when I actually felt lonely while reading, maybe it was like the reading was getting me to feel more than I signed up for.
Towards the end of reading this, I felt like I personally knew the poetess. Rupi just put everything possible out there and it was so beautifully done! Needless to say, it obviously became one of my favourites.
This book is Raw and real.
-The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.
This concept isn’t alien to me. I’ve been doing this ever since can remember, its not something i have to struggle with…it just happens, rather i make it happen. Because i convince myself to believe that’s the way it should be. That maybe everyone around me would be better off that way, and so would i. I’m a pro at pushing people away. Now even though i am more of a suffer in silence kind of a person, I think that i know that the person won’t stick around after a while and before getting too attached to someone i do it, i disappear and honestly that kind of is unfair to the people who really care about me, and i make these cowardly moves where i shut them out of my life and i am the one sulking because, well, i am that emotional indeed. I know very well that it is not fair on them and but i let myself assume that its not like it would matter, like i would matter.Those are the moments i don’t get whether the devil on my shoulder is saving me or preparing me for my own personal hellish experience that’s about to arrive.
But i don’t want to do this anymore and i am working on it. I pushed so many people away to the point where now when we talk at times it feels like they’re strangers and i yearn to have those bitch-you-know-you’re-my-person kinda talks. I’ve distanced myself from everyone way too many people who could’ve been important and who still are. I’m learning to wear my heart on my sleeve. And i’m not afraid of doing that anymore. The realization that pushing someone away is just selfish and insensitive on both parties is enough for me. And also i’m learning to love myself again, so there’s no way i’m putting myself through this kind of shit from now on. Its been way to long. Its time i deal with situations rather than escape.
It took me 21 years to get this..but better late than never.
Apart from manali being really amazing and everything, the only thing I was super excited about before going to this place was that I was gonna get to see snow for the very first time in my life.
I’d seen snow only on screen and read about it in books but never actually seen it with my own eyes. Ever since I can remember i’d always fantasized about what it would be like to actually see snow. I knew it was going to be magical and like a dream
The day we were to climb the mountain, the only thing I was really looking forward to was the snow. And believe it or not, I was so engrossed in making it past the stepping stones while crossing the river, which by the way, looked like it was flowing really angrily
I didn’t even notice the patch of snow right beside me. Sure it was covered in mud and all, but hey it’s all about the beauty within, right?
So I legit scream and no, I don’t just run towards it, I sprint. And there was no subtlety in my reaction, I made it very obvious that in the 21 years of my life I was seeing snow for the first time.
I hastily brush off all the mud with my bare hands even though everyone else kept telling me that there was going to be plenty of snow ahead. My reaction was probably like a potterhead visiting the wizarding world of Harry Potter or a kid going to Disneyland for the first time.
I could not believe I was holding snow in my hands! I forgot all about the exhausting climb that it had been and all the more that lay ahead. I didn’t care that my entire group was way ahead of me and it would take me really long to catch up. In that moment, I really did not care. I was having my own little moment.
Just the fact that something like snow exists makes me so happy.
Your dreams belong to you.No matter how big or small, it matters. That dream is like a sacred place in your mind and soul. So when you decide to let someone in on your dream, in that comfort zone of your soul, please do not be disheartened when they brush it off, or even worse, laugh it off.
When they don’t share the same enthusiasm as you, please don’t let it weaken your confidence because there is a different sparkle for every pair of eyes when they talk about something they’re passionate about.
And When you decide to let someone in on that idea that you’ve been so afraid to speak out loud, please do not expect them to help you carry majority of it forward. You’re the one who is going to have to do the most (or all of it) bit.
You owe it to your dream to carry it forward on your shoulders, not as a burden but the way superheroes wear their capes, with pride, dignity and the will to fly when even though they know that something could go wrong and they might fall.
So don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. You dream is solely yours and that is what makes it unique.
Writing has always been an insightful escape. I mean, sure movies and music have saved some heartache from time-to-time. But writing comes to the rescue like nothing else. It is like having a conversation with someone you know would understand and would know the right things to say. You know the kind of situation where i cannot lie to myself.
I have been writing a lot these days. Mostly in my journal. The whole putting pen to paper and writing my heart out at 2am kind of a thing. And that can only mean either one of these things, either there’s a volcano of inspiration waiting to erupt inside me or i feel more broken than ever.I am not complaining though, i love it when i write, but why is there always an overwhelming urge to write about what breaks me rather than what makes me happy? Yes, it makes me want to cry and sulk (maybe even howl) but by the time i have reached the last word i feel accomplished, like my heart feels less heavy. It is this journey on its own where my escapism takes slight turns into reality without letting it be too harsh.
Does that make sense? I don’t know. It doesn’t have to. A lot of things don’t right now and I wouldn’t even be realizing any of this had i not started writing it down.
Writing about nonsensical things is the only thing that makes sense.