Hot Summer Days Are The Worst Time To Go On A Drive, But I Still Decided To Go On One. I Thought Maybe

Thanks for tagging me @euesworld .

The top five things I like about me.

1. I'm crazy

2. I love the people who matter to me unconditionally

3. I write well I guess

4. The way I laugh my heart out

5. The way I love myself

Now for those 5 people I want to answer this are.

@acloudenthusiastsdream @glitteringhuman @notcrazylimitededition @tark42 @krisnair

I hope I get to know you guys even more....

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then, you have to send this to ten of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) 💞🌞🌈

(Oh spooky noodles I keep forgetting to answer this!!)

My taste in music

My voice

My roleplay skillz

Um, my ability to make stories? NOT THE SAME AS ROLEPLAYING

Aaand my kinda split-personalities: The real me, the Me My Family Sees, and Emotionless Person at School.

For the followers, since so few of them have actually interact, I’ll only be tagging those I hope will actually answer:

@wildfire317

@poppinsagain

@xellas-the-wanderer

@paniiram

@doragonlw

@nova-dragonbound

@northcreekgeneralstore

@drabblezofmine2

@mochamy

@porcelainmasked

I see this building everyday

Standing tall and bold

And every time I pass it,

I feel it has something to tell me

I wish it had emotions

Because people around me do not

Even if they have they don’t show anymore just to me but to anybody

Emoticons today express emotions better than faces

And buildings speak more than people

Maybe I’m paranoid

Seeking emotions in objects

But trust me

People don’t show emotions anymore

The faces look pale and eyes moist

The mouth opens to speak

But lips close and a vague smile pops

It’s difficult to know

You seem fine but you’re not

You seem stable but you’re not

It’s hard to understand

Because you don’t speak

Nor do you smile

All I see is a vague smile that’s hiding

All the emotions I want to know

I wish you burst out

Because the building I see shows more emotions than you do

I connect to it more that I do to you

When new things happen in life, what do you do? Depending on the happening you either become happy or sad, right?

Well, that's what I'm going through right now. I am happy, well happy would be a small word, I'm extremely overwhelmed. Happier than ever, and that's what worries me... But I guess with him by my side I will be fine.

Because today had been a perfect day. Brunch with friends, lot of laughter and hard core fun.

He sent me something that's his. Something that was a piece of his life... Maybe I really had no idea how much I made him feel infinite...

This feeling of happiness seems wonderful, well leaves me speechless whenever I think about the great things happening.

Maybe I should just sit back and relax like how he always says

I do not know, even though its confusing, there is clarity in this fairy tale that he has built me. Because more than love, I trust him

I plug in my earphones with no music switched on

The night slowly turned mellow.

The embrace of my best friend's mother

and the timing of my google photo notifications

just feels like a hug and a salp at the same time.

I gaze at pictures of the sky,

my phone chimes again

It's the reminder I had set to call my parents.

I swipe it away and brush off my thoughts

I do not have the energy to dial the number

and deal with both of them.

I continue looking at the image from last year,

a time when I was at a stranger's house

as I didn't wanna go home

I saw how juggling between multiple things,

multitasking, studying and working

were all pins to my shoulder

pinned with pride and a pinch of salt.

I remember how I was happy for the lack of time

to think, to feel and to contemplate.

But then going home, going back to that house

having to live with the person

whose house I left years ago.

scared me in a way I didn't know of

It made me want to leave even before reaching

It made me want the plane to crash

the car to stumble

the road to split.

It scared me that staying under the same roof

would scratch wounds that had become scars

would lead to conversations that would end to fights

I reached the building she called home and I called house

I remember how she would want to embrace me in a hug and I'd stand still

I remember how she wanted to know the people in my life

and how she wasn't a part of it

I remember how she had faded from all of it

While I stab my toe on the way to find my notebook to scribble this down

My phone chimes of the reminder to sleep

I still stare at the notification.

I miss the person I don't want in life.

I do... do I... ??

Yesterday I went shopping with my granny and aunt. For a change, I was wearing a sari. a black sari with bronze border. I was looking pretty good.

The idea of going with them was not a good one. I was damn bored. I was gazing around the shop looking at things that I would never buy. What else to do...

I was standing there looing at some dress, when an old lady came next to me and asked "Your sari is amazing. Where did you buy that from dear?"

"Its from Kerala aunty"

(I am now in Chennai. TN)

"Oh! its beautiful. I was shopping for my granddaughter and she loves black. she is almost your age and looks like you too. could you please help me select one for her. My taste you see is quite old"

"sure aunty"

I was happy that she asked for my help. Now at least I will be looking around with some purpose. Now, there is certainly one thing about old people. they are damn inquisitive... In no time they pull out every detail about you. So was this lady, she was asking me all sorts of questions, I did not want to be rude so I answered with patience and moreover she was very sweet.

After a while I picked out a black sari with pink and green border. It was a beauty. she seemed satisfied too... as I was helping her with a billing she insisted on getting me something too. now that's too much. I politely declined. She finally gave up and suddenly out of nowhere a guy called her.

"Where were you? I was looking all around the place for you"

"You were bored weren't you. This young girl helped me pick a sari for your sister"

"Thank you so much. I'm Ram"

"Hey. I'm Razia"

A tall handsome young guy. A beard, tall, husky voice. Just amazing. I never used to believe in love at first sight. "Bullshit" was my synonym for it. But yesterday when I saw him I got butterflies in my stomach. I just couldn't take my eyes off him.

But that's it. I get that feeling for the first time and that too towards a person I will never meet again. 

God wasn't that cruel too. that aunty was so happy with me helping her that she too out a small piece of paper, wrote her name, address and her grandson's no. she told me to call him if I get any confusions with the address as I am new in town.

I have that paper right in front of me. I do lie him. but do I? I can call him should I? questions unanswered I sit her perplexed. I don't now. maybe as I always say, there isn't love at first sight, it always a crush and he would also pile up in my little list of crushes.  

Doors closed from behind that never tend to open..

The doors behind whom is the person with the keys

Those doors....

How I wish you had told me before that these doors would never open...

Rather you promised me keys to eternal you

Of all the fake promises and lost love....

I wish I had known you even better. Known you even far.

I wouldn't be standing here today not knowing which way to go. Whom to trust.

I wouldn't be here having lost all faith in life

And turned cynical towards all.

I wish I had known you before.

Before all of this could have happened..

- Razia

@argumentsfromwithin hope I did justice to your poem. And ya if anyone wants to take it further. Please do..

Open ended…

(Please finish my poem!)

There are days…

That turn into weeks…

These months that have become years…

How long have I been waiting for an answer…

A solution to the fears that keep me awake at night…

there’s an odd bit of advice you see that was offered to me…

A tid bit of knowledge used to express an emotion…

This feeling we’ve all been looking for…

An answer behind closed doors…

-c.S.

By: ArgumentsFromWithin

(Please write your own ending and share! I can’t wait to read them!)

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

Why aren't we given time if it's difficult?

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

.

Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

And Why is that you can write only when you are in pain?

.

Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

.

Why is your time not at their time stamp?

.

Why can't people know we're all at a different pace

In our journey towards ease.

.

Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

.

Why do you want everyone to smile even beyond that pain.

.

Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

.

Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

.

Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

.

Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

.

You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

.

You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

.

It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

.

Let's put up a brave face is it?

It was my birthday 2 days ago,

And the first person who came to my mind, was my dad

When I was a kid, he had hidden toffies in the small compartmemt in his bike.

and had fooled me making me so dissapointed, but it turned out that he was messing. The joy my father gave that day still brings a smile....

And it was him who gave me the best b'day when he was with me....

No birthday can beat that. But what went wrong was that rush of nostalgia making my hair color green. And popped up the questions as to what was I thinking and what made me feel so. God I hated it...

Then when my friends gave me a great bash and that joy made my hair purple.

And that's when I missed my family and that changed my hair color to blue...

And all of this was because of that bloody witch who ruined the magic trick...

I am an open book now, even though no one messes with me, but at times I like to hold things to myself....

Sometimes I am best with me and I had known me best...

A magic experiment has gone wrong and now your hair changes colour based on your emotions. This has created all sorts of awkward situations, as people can read you like a book.

what’s in a name

You call me by my name all the time

And it used to feel great to hear it from you

I loved the sound you used make

And how you use a lot of different tones

I get your mood by the way you call,

But Daddy

It has all changed nowadays

You used to do all these things

And made me feel I was your princess

But

Then I realized that

Whenever you call brother

Its always a different tone

Infact, you never call him by his name

But rather all different adjectives

Sometimes its ‘champ’ otherwise ‘buddy’

Yet other times you call him

‘your darling son’

And the only tone that you use the days

The way you call my name

These days brings horror in me

Don’t call me by my name Daddy

Coz’ it makes me scared

That you’ll scold me again

Don’t call me by my name Daddy

Coz’ it makes my entire body shiver

Don’t call me by my name

Don’t call me by my name Daddy….

As mothers, she held her close,

Trying to feed by milking her blood

She was more than happy, a little more confused

Euphoria maybe or post pregnancy hormones

She was scared to let go, the baby was so tiny and fragile…

 .

He came in, a little late, hurried to see if his beloved was okay

Yes he was happy, but more worried I guess

He held her close, and apologized

Asked her whether she was happy or not

 .

They both looked at the baby, happy and content

This seemed to be a moment that could be captured

 .

It’s been years since then, I look up at the picture

My mom telling me what that day meant

I have heard this story a hundred times, but each time she says it a different way

 .

Sometimes I see her telling me that story with so much happiness that I wish he was around

And yet other times there is so much hatred I am glad they aren’t together…

 .

And yet, when he tells me the story I see pain as to not having spent enough time with me

 .

I don’t know whether to hate them both or love them

Either way I seem caught in an endless cycle