The Deranged Thoughts Of A Girl

Standing at an aisle, Deciding whether to save money Or buy something good for myself,  Feels like the biggest decision  Of my life, without realizing That I give more importance To the toilet paper I wipe my ass with Rather than realizing how  A piece of paper is controlling The whole of our lives.  Standing near the shore,  Contemplating whether I should Continue working or go mental,  Feels like the biggest decision Of my life, knowing deep down That I am taking the first bus  To work, because mentally I need money, even though My heart has settled like the waves dancing with the sky.  Standing in front of my wardrobe,  I wonder if I should impress the world Or just be kind to my body,  Feels like the biggest decision  Of my life, even when I know Nothing can ever fix the constant State of existential crisis that brews underneath.  Maybe this short skirt and plaid top Will put my worries to rest today. 

 Hearts coming alive At night, intertwined in your arms I forget how I ever believed  That I was alone.  At the peak of our nocturnal desires,  I lose myself and light a cigarette,  You tell me to come back to bed When my thoughts have rested.  With a slight caress, you tell me I am home,  With a small peck, you tell me I am yours.  And when dawn arrives, I find My eyes meeting yours,  Desperately wishing that  Nothing has changed. 

 Dear you,  I sat by the window,  With my head down Heavy with thoughts of An uncertain future.  A love that lives far away,  And a mind frenzied By the distance.  I sat by the window,  Trying to keep my hopes up For I know without saving Myself, the world doesn't  Stand a chance.  Give me a hand, a push,  A tug, to stand tall Even when I say I am fine.  I sat by the window,  Raising my head up To watch the world shine,  Inviting me to join in  On this divine dance of chaos.  As tempting as it sounds,  I stay where I am, waiting for you,  For I need my calm before I indulge in the chaos of life. 

 There are places I want to run to,  Where life is slow, and time Is meaningful and not something You wish would pass by in an office cubicle.  There are people I want to teleport to, Who I know will share my joy and sorrow,  Where I can go in and be a part of the  Conversation without a knock on the door. There are moments I want to teleport to,  Where laughter, love, and happiness filled the air,  Followed by a yearning nostalgia of how This moment will pass too.  There's so much love I want to teleport with,  To give it to different people who needed them,  And I had none to offer because I was too busy searching for myself.  There are so many stories I want to share,  Around a campfire, with people I love,  About how gracefully we have aged,  In a world that was so new to us. 

 Creating space for making mistakes,  Learning to pick yourself up,  Letting people you once loved go,  Forgiving but not forgetting,  Celebrating yourself even after being misunderstood,  Crying when life gets tough,  Loving people despite being hurt by them.  Some tiny acts of rebellion Are needed to keep our soul alive In this selfish world.  Some tiny acts of rebellion Make you a human when The whole world refuses to make you feel like one. 

 More than a hobby,  Less than a lifestyle,  I keep you around to remind myself That I need the sun, Warmth from people and moments,  That I need water,  Tears to cleanse away the chaos of life.  That I need manure,  Funerals I attend for the versions of myself.  That I need air,  To believe that I can start anew after bad days.  And that I need space,  To grow into the life I always dreamt of.  More than a hobby or a lifestyle,  I keep you around  To believe in myself and How I deserve to be here. 

 I find you in the stillness I experience,  A coffee after a tiring day,  A heart-felt conversation with a friend,  A cigarette outside when the party's inside,  A comfortable space to zone out,  A feeling of not being judged in good company,  A walk alone in the woods,  A slight caress from your calloused hands.  I desire you more when I know I can't  Explain what I feel around your presence.  So much emotions go unexplained,  So many emotions being contemplated,  But I find music in you, when all we share is silence,  I find you among the stars, when my heart feels alone,  I find you right next to me, when feelings take over,  I find soothing familiarity in you, one that makes me  believe you were made to be mine. 

 Here, here, humans are getting endangered,  Screams the nomad, clutching his head.  Looks of confusion and dread  Can be seen among the people.  Here, here, I don't see any humans anymore,  Cries the nomad, rubbing his eyes.  They tie him up and curse him And don't wonder why he cries for them.  Here, here, these evil thoughts make my ears bleed Struggles the nomad, trying to free himself.  They laugh at him and his misery,  For their art of understanding has diminished.  Here, here, kill me now and spare me the torture Of having to live among you all,  Where kindness and humanity are scarce,  Where bloodied headlines damage our hearts Into fearing another fellow being that comes by,  But are they wrong? Don't we have to?  Where dying children don't make you flinch But losing money makes you go mad,  Doesn't that make you sick?  Where selflessness is often doubted,  And your neighbour's miseries a...

 Dreaming big enough to want a house Just for the two of us,  To know it's not settling for less if peace Pulls up a chair beside us,  To hold hands even when we are fighting Our own battles,  To live without feeling guilty of choosing a life No one wants for us,  To find love for each other without it being a  Requisite for maintaining status.  I will dream bigger for both of us to show how The world draws lines, And how it trains us not to step outside.  But if you walk beside me, I promise we will Run free, to a world where dreams Don't have to be a revolution. 

 I lay awake after I tortuously rip apart Our past,  What did I do wrong? What could I have Done differently?  I hold every conversation a prisoner, questioning  It again and again,  Somedays I know that no matter what I did or didn't,  The outcome will always be sour.  I lay awake bingeing on memories and how much Love my heart still holds for you.  Will I ever be able to put this feeling down? Will I be able To hold you?  I did everything I could, except be brave enough to Not let you go.  Somedays I rejoice when I know that you tried to love Me too.  In a way, unknown to my heart,  In a way, as broken as you are,  In a way, where we tried to be each other's,  Now our memories resurface when my heart is at rest To remind how you have always been a part of me,  And will always remain that way. 

 Lose your way, but remember love In the deepest corners of your heart,  Where doubt and anxiety can never reach. Lose your way, but keep a friend That reminds you of what you used to dream about When life plays its mean little tricks on you.  Lose your way, but reminisce about your past And what you had to let go to be here,  When sadness and misery tells you it isn't worth it.  Lose your way, but know your path isn't a straight line,  For with its twists, turns, and loops,  You often forget you still have the upper hand. 

 I was ready to bloom into womanhood When I was old enough to understand That I should be pretty to be of worth.  From wearing eyeliner to impress The boy I liked because that Was the only way men liked women.  Not attending weddings because I didn't  Want to be reminded that I haven't  Turned pretty yet Haven't bloomed yet.  When my teacher called me beautiful,  I spent a whole hour looking at myself In the mirror, trying to see what she saw.  When he told me I was always pretty,  I was furious at him for lying to me,  I hated lies but I was lying to myself every day.  You see, I was always blooming,  But not in the way the world around me wanted,  I made people feel loved genuinely,  I have turned tears into laughter,  I have offered myself solace,  And I have helped people understand  What made them bloom.  I wanted people to see me for who I am.  In a world that tortures people until They ...

 There's nothing ever so healing  As watching the clouds.  Changing shapes, spreading colours,  Moving at its own pace, and Disappearing altogether.  Does it not sound just like us?  Everything we experience as humans Can be found in nature,  It is not a weakness, rather  It's a power that we all share.  When we move along with the clouds,  Meaning rushes into our lives.  When we listen to the nature around us,  We become one with it.  But if you learn to live as a separate entity,  How will you learn about the magic our lives hold?  But if you never dream of watching the sunset,  How else do you believe that this is your home? 

 I got familiar with who she was In the kitchen,  She said she doesn't like cooking But she spent most of her life there.  Either it was her children complaining That the food was boring,  Or how her drunk husband always Send the plate flying through the air.  She was always tied down by  The one thing that she hated- Being in the kitchen.  Her daughter always feared the kitchen,  A room that held women prisoners If they liked it or not.  When people say cooking is therapy,  She was sure they had a happy family.  A day before she decided to run away,  Her mother called her 'useless' while  she was doing the dishes of the whole household.  Her father's rage was the first thing  She packed in her luggage,  Her hope that love existed was stuffed in too.  Her mother in her fifties call her a saviour Who showed her that she can dream,  Her father calls her sweet names and Asks her when she can come back...

A love that was desired by others,  With no feeling of possession or control.  Neither of them were obliged to be with each other,  Drawn in by an energy that can't be described.  She called out his name in the dark,  Never hoping for a response.  But when he said a calm "Hello, I missed you." She thought her heart would explode with happiness.  She was sure she was never understood before him,  She had been an open book and yet was misunderstood.  He always strung the right words together,  Whether it was to make her cry or smile.  "It's all a play, my dear.  You are a part of the Leela," He used to tell her before she confessed  her love for him. Before her, everything lacked purpose Which he was hesitant to admit.  But he knew he was always waiting for something,  Something or someone.  Someone.  His life flourished with purpose and necessity  When she walked into his life.  What is untamed...

 I talked to him for the first time in the corridor Of a long term care facility,  He asked me about my school and he smiled "I used to go there too, it was fun." We had a long chat filled with several repetitions Of a story he knew by heart.  "He's slowly losing his mind," they said,  Watching the process of disconnect Between his mind and now,  When they saw me listening to same story again.  A month passed by, and I saw him again,  Sitting at the entrance looking so lost and lifeless.  I was hesitant to approach him for the fear  That he would have forgotten me.  One day, I bumped into him in the hallway,  He asked me about my school and I blurted out "Do you remember me? I was here-", I was interrupted.  "Of course, I do. You left a month ago. I still remember  Things from when I was a kid.", he smiled with pain.  I wondered if he was hurt because  I thought he was forgetful,  Or because of what he was g...

 I was always so adamant to live life on my terms,  A feeling instilled in me by overly opinionated people,  Who decided they knew what was 'best' for me.  I was always too fat to wear clothes I liked,  I was always too silly to be taken seriously,  I was always too dark-skinned to wear the colours I wanted,  I was always too much but never quite enough.  Once I saw my Amma sneaking in saffron in my drinks Because I wasn't fair like my siblings, I was thirteen.  When she stopped doing it, I asked her to add it  To my drinks because I wanted to be fair, I was fifteen.  It pains me to realize that I knew how  I embarked on a journey of rage and hatred for oneself.  So I started again, took back control.  I decided I looked amazing in clothes I wanted to wear,  I have fun being silly but turn wild when I fight for what I believe,  I wear the colours I want and I love that I am too much.  A fresh start is a...

 Trying to ease into adulthood is hard,  When the world keeps bustling with instructions.  Where even the trees sway in a hurry,  How do you expect me to be still.  But I believe the damage is done,  For I panic when I take one lazy day,  Or I internalize rest is only allowed after work,  Or how I am in a hurry even when I relax.   I want to break free from this world,  And find my way, unhurriedly.  I would lay down on the grass with you beside me,  And think a whole lot about how the trees are so calm.  I would turn off my mind and hurrying people On days when the world seems heavy.  I would live as the crazy woman who talks to trees,  And slowly heal myself to live the life I always meant to. 

 Some believe summer solves all problems,  A time to grow and restart.  I wonder why the winter is deemed to be depressing When it has its own sense of magic.   Maybe our hearts make promises to the sun,  To be better, kinder, and grateful for the live we own.  Maybe we kneel down to apologize to the snow,  For letting ourselves go when it became colder.  Some believe summer brings freedom to our lives,  The idea of being free in a life that we made hectic.  I wonder why the winter is frowned upon,  When it has always taught your racing heart to be still.  Maybe winter prepares us for summer,  To let us out of the cage we build from within.  But when we run excitedly towards the summer days,  We always let go of the season that healed us. 

Sometimes I know life is hard to make sense of,  Like how you show anger to the person who Taught you what being angry is,  Like how you are made insecure by someone who Compliments every single stranger,  Like how you beg for love to the one person who Refuses to believe that you are capable of being loved.  It's funny when you return to them angry, insecure, and unloved,  They hold your face in their hands and ask you "Who hurt you, my darling girl?" And you laugh, so, so loud,  Loud enough for the walls to echo "You!",  Only to be silenced by the tears that follow.  Sometimes I know life makes no sense,  Now, I take my place in this world so arrogantly because There's no way the anger I witnessed was just to damage me.  Now, I compliment people for how they make one feel,  Because I refuse to believe that mirrors are synonyms for value in humans.  Now, I speak of the love I experience to everyone I meet,  And make them ...

I wouldn't be ashamed of my collections one day, Of how every narration of my story has a tinge of hate.  I wouldn't talk to you about the days I cried to sleep,  Or how I don't remember being a child.  I wouldn't wish for people to understand me When I have mastered the art of misunderstanding them. I would be proud of my collections one day,  Because I know love always crashes my hate parties,  I would talk to you about I stay vulnerable despite being hurt,  Because I know the universe has always given me back what I lost,  I would stay with the people who are curious As they sit beside me to listen to what I collected today. 

 I feel old and lost at the same time,  I see people living their dreams So sure of what they want.  And I feel myself searching frantically To find a meaning I have never pondered about before.  I feel weak and strong at the same time,  I find people trying to navigate themselves So sure of what hurts and what shouldn't.  And I find myself panicking because Everything hurts even when they call me strong.  I feel trapped and free at the same time,  I watch people fly, sing, and dance So sure of how to enjoy their freedom.  And I find myself suffocated Stepping out of a cage not knowing where to go.  Here I stay, old and lost, weak and strong,  Trapped and free,  Searching and finding new revelations about myself,  Knowing that no matter how uncomfortable it gets,  I still get to write my own story.