My world, small and happy.

T he clock was about to strike 12. It was a silent, cold night. She was home alone. With her heavy head she looked herself in the mirror with her swollen eyes and messed hair. Knowing that she could hold on tight until her temptation was to fall for a long time and leave a dreadful scar behind, her sadness embed her fragile heart. She locks herself. Opens her drawer and takes out a scissor. She slid her wrist. Her entire world stood still as she felt numb. She lied in a corner resisting the inevitable pain. She screamed so loud until her scratchy throat made her breathing difficult. She was on the floor for hours crying and sobbing restlessly drinking a bottle of vodka. She sliced open her artery. She didn’t want to live. She searched for a single reason why she wanted to live, but she didn’t deserve to. She was disgusted on herself and wanted to end it all. She felt no pain. She calmed herself down, as her sleeping pill made her dizzy and put her to bed on the floor. She was out fo...

Faded It was monsoon, A rainy day, She stood there,   Near the highway, Waiting for someone, With a bunch of orchid her hand, Mixed feeling was readable,                                                 And it started drizzling, “Patience” was what she endured, A cool breeze waved her short hair, Her glasses was all drenched with water droplets, The highway was silent, Only the rain drops echoed all over, Then the headlights turned on, There was no sign of that someone, The rain already made her wet, And the darkness allotted, But still she had some hope, To fix the misunderstanding, To get that prestige back, To fill the gap of happiness, Her hope faded away along with the rain, It seemed nobo...

Who does not love surprises? We all do, or maybe at least some people do. But there are who don’t, very few. She was among st them. Neither does she love, nor she knows how to, even if she knows it is not that particular. Well, she tried, at least she did. A bunch of fresh flowers, she loves flowers, flowers of color yellow, pink, white and red. Yes, it was for her. She did this much to at least show that she matter in her life and she is blissful and happy to have her. She completely enjoyed every part of it and still have few exact words for fluttering me as she was speechless.  Today is her day, her day to flutter someone, well how but? She is also unlike her. Got confused between she and her? She and her are two completely different souls who bound to be tied up and go through thick and thins together. It was not she this time, it was him. Him is another beautiful person of her life. It is really difficult for her to accept the fact that she was escaping from him and her s...

It doesn’t get good sometimes, so it feels not to get better at all. She just wants to brew on a strong coffee under comfy, warm blanket, putting her thoughts together in a piece of sheet as it seemed that everyone have had enough of her getting moody and sad over and over again. Hey, listen, she’s trying, she’s trying hard enough to cheer herself before realizing it was her prolongation to fall apart since a long time. Everything happens for a reason, they say. She’s waiting for that reason as to why she is getting anomic, the feeling of getting detached from everything except for her head full of contemplation. As she was self-motivated, she thought of finding ways to divert her mind, in short recover. Yes, recover, it might have been really hard and difficult for her to come into a conclusion. So for her, recovery wasn’t Baltimore cake with walnut sprinkled with sesame seed. Recovery neither was her happy moments captured in the frame nor was the quality time spent with brother ...

A warm breezy wind of June strolled around this evening when I went to the terrace after a long day at college. The weather was just perfect for my mood while I was listening to Silbermond with icy detox water, already mesmerizing the majestic sun in front of me. It was the heavy clouds, warm summer breeze, the angry hills, my thoughts and me. As I sip the refresher, the valley’s air moves swiftly and the clouds get angrier until I get goosebumps, a sudden feeling for excitement with the beat of the next song in my playlist.  I then took a deep breath and puffed my lungs until I felt like the entire toxicity went through the comfy air.  I took a look around me, I could see the entire valley surrounded by hills and a flock of pigeon swarms across the grey sky, yes, it was about to rain. Another gentle breeze flipped my hair, my short hair, playing through my hair entangling them in between. I finished the cucumber slices sprinkled with peppermint and lemon at a bite being it...

 The little girl stood there, All alone under the big tree, Glancing in the clear blue sky, The breeze flipped her blonde hair, The smell of the grass delighted her, She took a few step forward, And there, There was a meadow, Meadow with short grasses, Meadow with wild flowers, Flowers of color white, pink and red, Yellow butterflies made her wonder, Wonder what tiny colorful thing is flying around, Bees swarmed over, The bright sun made her cozy, She lay down, Staring at the clouds, Fantasizing her query, About the yellow butterflies, About the clear blue sky, About the meadow And, about the wild flowers.

She welcomed her beginning with an exhaustion on her face. That face which could tell you easily how tired she was from this life. She could feel how cheerful and self-contended she was in her previous life. Maybe in this life she was born just to show fake everything, fake smile, fake promises, fake desire, just fake everything. But what was that bitterness which made her sadder everyday? What was that reason, there must have been something right? Something really deep and unheard, just untold. She was already haunted by her past and old memories, what now? Was the creation or re-creation of those times? Or, was it just a way to make her feel pity every single time when she isn't in the mood? Or, maybe she made everything obvious about her sadness. It could have been anything. I wish she could share it to someone, a that someone who would not make it certain and more doubtful to her. A that someone who could just listen and would no longer remember to what she just narrated. Yes, ...