People aren’t like a movie. You can’t replay your favourite person when you’re upset, you can’t go back to them when you’re feeling blue. You can never guess their end, never know what’s up their sleeves. They don’t come with genres. You cannot walk down the aisle of the “people library” and pick one to rent. They are unexpected paradoxes of your thoughts. You can’t find online analysis for their behaviour, you have to believe what they say. They don’t explain themselves with subtitles, summaries or movie posters. People, don’t stay with you forever, in your rack for times to come. You can’t really expect them to be there for you when it starts to drizzle . No, people are not like the movies. They are like different genres blended with colorful hues of life,incompatible.
Made up of different lines of your favourite character, with backgrounds of your most liked movie. No, they aren’t only comic or romantic. They aren’t purely fictional or a biopic. People, oh the ones we love, are built of stories greater than the 70mm celluloid, with beats of their own. Not every story is our favourite, not every person clicks, but we still watch those, at least once. Thank heavens, people aren’t like the movies, with drastic and dramatic ending. People, well, you can write your ending with them. My personal favourite is the movie called People, it’s a complex genre and talks about a myriad of emotions. Layers of thoughts and desires and ideas. It’s a must watch, you know. Not everyone is a 10/10 but they are an experience.


We met halfway through our miseries
Dancing drunk under the night sky
You can name your favorite star, I already did mine
I know nothing makes sense right now
But let it be like this
Senseless and in love
Tipsy and stuttering
Both of us blur out
Lying down under the lamp post
Let me just be myself, for the night
Put down my masks and take away your facades
Let me be myself for a little while
We can roll out our secrets
I swear I’ll keep them safe or maybe not
But just talk and intoxicate me with your words
I can already feel your body heating up
It isn’t alcohol, it’s not what we’ve been smoking.
Heated up from our love that flows in my veins
I can feel the grass underneath my elbow
The light illuminating the scars on your soul
You know, I like those demons you hide
The stories you tell me about the scars
I’ve memorised them all
I can feel the alcohol slip out of my system
But I still feel faded, blurred on this feeling
I could tell you a hundred things I loathe
I would spend every night counting the stars with you
But you don’t need forever
You never asked for infinities
You loved here and now
Always looked for the present
Let me just say before the present runs out
Before it becomes yet another chance I had
Just before this present becomes a resentful past
Or should I just keep quiet?
Let you smoke the circles
Let all the 2am thoughts be casual
Away from the chaos of the cliched
Distant from another ‘friends turned lovers’
The cigarette butt on your lower lip sits so ignorantly at my place
It’s still burning, brighter than the passions I hide
But, ugh, this is too cliched
I’m not supposed to fall for you
We had a deal.
Still, I envy the cigarette stick that gets to be so close to you
I know you’re blowing up your anger with the smoke rings
I’ve been quiet for a long time now
You haven’t spoken either
that lucky cigarette keeps you busy
But this feels great you know
This silence at 3 in the night
I can hear your thoughts, I can hear your distant dreams
The words that float in the air, unable to become sentences
I guess,I just had my forever in your present.

I’m glad, you left.

Falling for you wasn’t that bad you know ? I mean obviously we didn’t end up together. Obviously we aren’t the new Augustus and Hazel but at least you inspired me to become a person with words. What’s your inspiration they ask . I mostly talk about anything except you, I’m too selfish to make you a great part of my life now that you’re gone. “Your words feel so real” they often tell me. I wish I could show them what we had. Darling, mere paper isn’t enough to represent the fire we had. My pen is too weak to capture our moments. They weren’t the best, but they were “ours”. I’ve realised no matter how much people pretend, they have a soft corner for broken hearts. They still prefer incomplete love stories over a happily ever after. Mine, well, they are full of heart breaks, you see. It’s fictional, I announce to the world. Again, because I don’t wanna name the soul that wounded my heart. Bleed your heartbreaks through words, I repeat to my friends. Lately, I found out that my friends preferred to read a character’s half told, heartsick story than to hear my own. So be it.  There’s not much difference between the girl who lives in my words and me, except her story ends with a definite full stop. Mine ends in the middle of a sentence. That’s from where I completed hers. So, my preface  someday might read your name. When I’m old enough to let it go and mature enough to give you your due credit. It’s so ironic how I preach about existence of love out there, tell them to hold onto their hopes. But we live in a world made up of ironies. We live in a castle of false assumptions. So let this be yet another one. Recently, I’ve started enjoying myself. Sadistic pleasure, you see. Of people who take pride in their partners and accidental “destined” meetings. It’s not long before they become a part of my group. My group of cynics and non believers. Not everyone is as cynical as I am. Not everyone is so dramatic as I am. But to be honest, not everyone felt something so deep , as I did .  I know my words and stories become repetitive. They are. I’m not denying that fact. But you can’t blame me for that. Writing expresses your inner emotions, I read this line online. It does. For my writing, expresses the words I can’t speak from my mouth. So this girl,from my pages does. But you know,  you’re lucky. Words have immortalised you.

Thank you so much

imagehello lovelies!!! My page has finally crossed the 100 followers milestone. I am so grateful to you guys! It means so much to me when you guys take out time to read my stuff!! Thanks a ton people ❤️ Keep shining and smiling amazing bloggers !!


I really don’t mind spending Saturdays alone sitting on my couch. No I don’t mind not having anyone to talk to in spite of over 10 close friends. The loneliness only hits me when I am sick and staring up the ceiling. It hits me when I am watching my favorite film and laughing all alone. On regular days my work keeps me unbelievably busy and I usually stretch out working till late at night. But loneliness hits me when I go to my room, the humongous bed staring at me, empty. The fact that I will go out for shopping and have no one to tell me if pink looks good on me or blue suits me better, scares me.
It’s not that I am without a loving family or incredible friends because I am not. But sometimes I want someone exclusively for me. I mean just to tell them my favourite star and talk to them about why one direction should come back and also why I hate getting up in the morning. I am not lonely literally. But the feeling at 3 of not knowing someone to text is brutal. Going on long walks in Autumn just by myself is kinda of haunting. Coming back home, an empty home in a different city is scary. I’ve been around the world, seen it all (most of it) but alone. I’ve been to the Eiffel Tower and seen the entire city but without my beloved soul. I’ve enjoyed many promotions but with my friends and family. I’ve spent birthdays alone amidst a crowd. I’ve never come home to find him waiting by the balcony for us to have dinner. Technically I’ve achieved everything I ever dreamt of. From a fancy house to luxurious holidays I have been there all. But sometimes just sometimes I feel lonely amidst the crowd. I feel insecure walking in a crowded place not knowing which way to turn. Read books about perfect ending and heard songs about perfect beginnings but I am still stuck somewhere in the middle. And the worst part ? I will go back to work on Monday and not feel a thing until it’s Friday night and I am sitting all alone in my office. This thing , you know, comes and goes.
It comes when it’s the holiday season. It comes back when I am cooking my meal but just for one. It comes when I am sitting in a coffee shop and order a single cup. It comes back when I wake up and wish myself morning. When I come home to find only my mail in my mailbox, mail for just one person.
Spread across 24 hours in between calls from my mother, texts from my dad and movies with my friends this feeling of loneliness sinks in sometimes. So literally I am not lonely.

Hooked onto a feeling


Dear diary

The feeling of being hooked to something is so cruel. Especially if it’s a person. You’re just hooked to them. Waiting for their texts, waiting for them to call. You know you should let go but you hold onto the slightest possible thread of hope. It’s like watching a Rom-com and expecting the lead pair to not get together. It’s like watching baby’s day out and expecting that the kid will never meet his parents.
The toughest part is you know it’s toxic to wait for them but even then your heart decides to fall for them anyway.
Sometimes it’s like waiting for a rainbow on a sunny day. There’s absolutely no chance of them telling you the words you’ve longed to hear but you still sit by your window to see the rainbow. It’s like getting lost in a maze with no way out. I think it’s the most helpless and frustrating feeling. You keep reading your old conversations and realize that you’re just waiting for a chapter that was never meant to be written. The nights and the days are the same, anxious. How funny is it that we get hooked onto a feeling so easily and so magically.
I don’t think our head controls everything, I think our instinct to fall for miserable jerks does. I mean obviously some jerks turn out to be diamonds but still they were jerks to begin with. As I write this entry I feel stupid for getting hooked to a constant state of uncertainty. A constant dilemma of are we out of the woods yet? The lingering question of are we there ? Did we manage to pass the “casual phase”?.


From daughter to mother…


” If you’re reading this then most probably I am not breathing anymore” the envelope read. The mother was inconsolable now. She missed her daughter. She longed for her hugs and her talks.
” Ma you raised me to become strong and independent. You raised me to be like the wind, strong enough to change the course of things. I am strong and I promise I tried my best to handle all my failure with grace. But now the situation has broken me, deprived me of my motivation , shattered my faith and shaken my very roots.It will be alright, they say. But ma, when ? When will I go to bed without crying ? When will I get something I really want ? When will the things finally work out for me ? I am sick and tired of being let down. Sick and tired of losing my battles.
I swear I worked really hard, gave it my best short. But look at me, I am still not what I wanted to become. The seasons changed and the cuckoo still sings but my heart still cries quietly.It’s so hard for me to smile when my body has suffered more grief than it can handle. Initially it were some days. Through the toughest of days I kept my head held high. I pulled myself together. Even when the misery occupied my months , I smiled. I was hopeful and still full of life. Ma, then it became my life. All I could ever get was rejection. I tried hard for everything, I gave it all I had. Now look I am stranded with a mark sheet that won’t me land anywhere. I am so sorry Ma for expecting that my hard work will pay off . I am so sorry to expect that you get what you deserve in life. I am so sorry ma for letting it end like a coward. I promise the next time we meet, I will be stronger and more successful.

The one who always smiled”
The mother quietly sank back into the chair.