The Deranged Thoughts Of A Girl

1. Never become your bad thoughts.  The bumpy roads in Nepal helped me resolve my bad thoughts quickly. It was as if each plunge into the air knocked sense into me. It's always easy to have trains of thoughts following every single incident you see. Adding to your fears and traumas, adding to your doubts and trust issues but life is more than just gut feeling. Life is more than just ignoring a person because you didn't like his/her vibe, life is definitely more than what anyone can understand or explain. And the funny thing is there is always something new for you to learn, to love, to dislike and to even laugh at. Never become the thoughts that make you question who you are, if it questions you, it was never meant to be a good part of you.  2. Papa Daughter-father relationships are complex or they become so after a certain age where all your opinions never align. I have always questioned whether he was a good father or not. He gives me everything. Not a 'you can have every

New people. There's something so eccentric about meeting new people. They all could have different places in your life. Some with whom you will connect so easily, some who you'll avoid after a single conversation, some that you get stuck with, and some you wished you had never met. You were somewhere in between. Could connect easily but sometimes I wished we'd never met because you put my morals, my values and myself to test. A test which I have been avoiding for long. And for good reason.   You sit across from me and we talk. Talk. Everything went beyond my head. Everything I heard, every song link that you sent, every single time you said I looked pretty. This man just wants to get in my pants, that is what I first thought of you. A little degrading, I know. Or maybe I don't know. You used just the right words always, ah fuck. The way you talked could give anyone an orgasm. If I met you 3 years back, I would be in love with you. But we meet now and I despise you. I ha

 You were crying on the stairs outside your office and I almost walked past you because I was late again. But I turned back, stood in front of you and asked you if everything was fine. You quickly wiped your tears and said yes, maybe a little confused as to why a random stranger stopped and asked you that. The random stranger hopes that you find it in yourself to say 'No, I am not okay' next time someone asks you that. You will, right?  We all sit together, listening to each other, voicing out and stacking problems one on top of the other like they were so simple when it was eating our heart out for months and years, hugging each other, crying in each other's arms, you found me from across the room that day and sat next to me. 'Tired, aren't you?', we share a weak smile and you let me rest my head on your shoulder. 'Don't give up, Lynn. Cry if you want to. Don't give up on the world with your heart.', I snuggled in closer to you, watching people

 I can barely remember what I talked about yesterday but there is so much I still remember so vividly and on a day that does seem kind, I might be tempted to tell the world all of it. But will anyone look at me the same again? Like a person that breaks down in the middle of a crowd, or a breakup story that travels through all mutual friends or how you opened up to someone that you trusted a lot or days when you are really silent, that is all you will be remembered for, stories. People do have their own mysterious way to remember you. I want to be able to tell my story, every single bit of it, about how I love and why I cry, about the simple things I am grateful for and the people that I am glad I met, about my bad days and how my voice breaks when I try to be kind, about the people who loves me and cares for me in the most soft and caressing ways. I want to be able to tell the world how I feel. I think everyone needs to tell the world what burns inside them with so much power so that t

I have lived and breathed through my art, I have loved people in silence yet so loud with my art, I found the strength to forgive people through my art and I am learning to love myself through my art. The repressed emotions I had within myself found an outlet and I came to realise that it was normal. That it was normal to accept feelings I had been trying to hide for so long. I still wonder where I would be if I kept on believing that parts of me I disliked could never learn to love by itself. The distinction to call art good or bad feels like a limit, a limit to control the way we humans are capable of expressing ourselves. We are all in this together. Together in an effort to be understood.We all have our art. Art never has to be something that can be witnessed by others. It can be anything. It could be a feeling inside you, the crumpled paper in your room that has your words, strokes or melody, or simply your existence. It could be the way you hold someone, the way you help others t

What's so great about palindromes?  The idea of a word sounding the same when you write it backwards, meaning the same when most of the others don't. Why are we so intrigued by this? Does it make you believe in something bigger? Maybe it's because we are always surrounded by words that lose its value when you turn it back. Maybe it's because it does feel nice to believe that even when you reach the end nothing is ever going to change. In a world full of uncertainties, some of us have always found comfort in words and some days I feel the words need us too to live.  A friend I made used to send me the poems he wrote. I don't know much about him but I know how he feels, how everyday makes him feel, how much he loves his close ones and how much he was hurting. He'd send me poems he wrote for his muse and I have kept them on a pedestal in my mind so that I can always remember this is how it must feel to be loved. His poems felt like a palindrome, one that could neve