A Cure for Broken Shoulders

When the rain gravitates towards you

be still, my dear.

Be still and let it touch you

like a lover’s breath on broken shoulders.

 

It sings quite softly, my dear,

but when it does, I swear to you,

the world stops spinning to

let the stars sing along.

 

You’ll feel the tune escape your lips

and your soul will dance in bliss,

Be still, my dear, and let the lover’s

breath write stories of magic on your skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mulberry Wings

I would give you a long explanation over why I wrote this poem, but it is unnecessary. Just look at it as an expression of anger against all forms of rape and abuse that exist. 

 

The first time i knew the meaning of consolation

was a breath of warm air into my ear,

air that smelled faintly of humour-laced

words and cigarettes, telling me

‘Shhh, you’ll be fine now.’

And I remember looking at his dark

brown eyes and the pockmarks

on his skin as he said this, and the bruise on

my knee stopped throbbing quite as much.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I said

as he smiled back at me.

They say how an adult reacts to a situation

has a psychological impact on the child’s

reactions, but those are big words, and I

was but a small child,

and those words to me had nothing to do

with logic

and everything to do with magic.

 

 

 

Years later, I stand in front of the full length mirror,

like a broken sparrow with mulberry wings

and haunted eyes,

and I try to form the same words

but choke up mid-way,

as I see his form approaching,

once so familiar,

now so strange,

as I see his hands reach for me

I realised what words I

once thought were magic

in the way they healed me

were the words that had broken

me in the first place:

he whispers into my ear,

‘Shhh, you’ll be fine now.’

 

 

 

Clay

you impressed me

you were impressed upon me
the faint dent of your lips on the edge of my throat
the hollow of bright red fingers on my fading wrists
the stamp of words whispered against my hair
the print of heel warm on my knobbly knee
the dip of your elbows against my ribs
i was clay for you, dear potter
and i gave you all,
all that you chose to make
a shattered vase.

Hiraeth

I plunge my fingers into the ocean

we call the sky and sift through the dreamy

translucent layers that are wings of

a broken butterfly hunched over

with sunlight streaming  and i

play with the wispy clouds

like puffs from a fine cigar and

watch as the birds stretch their wings

to feel the wind bite into their

throats one last time and the ball of fire

that is saying goodbye drenches my nails

in liquid colours until they become

fire themselves

and one by one the stars appear

like a glimpse of a past long forgotten

guided by the imposter that brightens

the inky black of the nights

and my hands submerge into the sky

that swaddles its baby like a warm

blanket spotted with patches of

swirls and a bosom

of motherly affection,

the infinite that keeps us in place.

 

 

Hold my hand, dear, and say it’ll be okay.

i held a fist of sand as i once

held your fist

and watched as the grains

slipped away

like smooth fingers sliding

out of a warm

grasp

and the hollow air that

remained

was a reminder

of you blowing

whispered promises

into my ear

and my red palms

stayed permanently blushing

from the absence of the sand

and

the absence of you.

Rainbows

our spare room used to have blue sheer curtains

that shielded us from the rest of the world until we

realised that we didn’t want to hide anymore

and now we have no curtains just holes in the walls

called windows and it’s the best decision we ever made

because every morning the room gets flooded

with the richest shade of golden and then we watch

as clocks become obsolete and time is measured by

the mulberry hues that turn crimson and the twinkling

starlight that filters the darkness and as vanilla

and violets alternate to dance into our room

our bodies feel like art

and

our souls feel like rainbows.

Elementary Death.

You can die a thousand ways,

but none as beautiful

and devastating

as in

the hands of the elements-

raw, untamed, merciless.

 

You can die in the lap of fire,

the flames licking every crevice

of your body, taming the curve

of your hip and

your dusty lips.

 

You can melt into lava.

 

You can die in the hands of water,

the waves crashing against you

in fury,

sculpting the stone that is you,

into a

tomb, for what will be.

 

You can dissolve into the ocean.

 

You can die at the mercy of air,

the irony settling in

sweetly

as the life-giver,

slowly sucks the

life out of you.

 

You can steal wings from the storm.

 

You can die if the earth chooses to,

as the green turns into grey,

and the ground rumbles

till there’s nothing

left to shake.

 

You can fall into the earth.

 

You can die when the spirit leaves you,

when the emptiness inside

spreads

like a famine,

and captures

your entirety.

 

You can merge into the infinite.

 

Thank-You

Hey guys!

I just got around to checking out my stats today and it turns out that over the past 3 weeks alone, I’ve got nearly 200 likes (?????!!!!) and hundreds of views and tons of warm, encouraging comments, and I cannot tell you how much that means to me. ( A LOT A LOT A LOT )

Unfortunately, I’ve had to delete a couple of posts for personal reasons (sounds ominous but it really isn’t), but I will get around to writing and putting up more poetry soon!

Once again, thank you all so much for reading x

Lots of love

Hidden Conversations

“GO” I screamed.

Please don’t, my heart whispered.

“But…” he stuttered.

I don’t want to, his heart pleaded.

“I love you.” he mumbled.

Me too, my heart ached.

“Well, I don’t.” I snapped.

Don’t lie, his heart beseeched.

“Okay, then.” we said together

wiping our hands clean off dust

I’ll miss you, our hearts chimed together

silent fractures achingly exposed

You should leave, now.

I need you by my side.

I’ll collect my belongings tomorrow.

Don’t break my heart like this!

It’s all for the best.

My world is falling apart.

Good luck, then.

Hug me and say it’ll be okay.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

The sounds of the man

and the sounds of the woman

and the sounds of their hearts

echoed forever in

the strange silence

that followed

and

never left.

Today, I promise.

I saw you wipe your red-rimmed eyes today, when you thought nobody was looking.

You quickly dabbed the edges of your monogrammed silk kerchief at the edges of your eyes, and plopped it back into your bag, in a matter of seconds. You pasted on that huge smile, flashing your pearly-white teeth at your friends, as you spoke about how much you adored that year’s Fall Collection. You watched as your friends lightly tapped your elbow, and you cringed slightly as they leaned into you doubled with laughter, but you smiled anyway. You thought I hadn’t seen your eyes, but I had.

I heard you throwing up in the wash room today, when you thought nobody was listening.

Your tender milky knees were on the floor, and you continued, without heeding to the purple swirly bruises that were now forming. You chose the stall when the bathroom was empty, but you tried to be silent, nevertheless. You slowly and steadily deposited your favorite pasta you had bought earlier from the store across, and you wiped your burning mouth afterwards. You made sure you used the perfume softly, listening against the graffiti-filled door of the stall for anyone outside, your head spinning just the slightest. You thought I hadn’t heard your noise, but I had.

I know that you contemplated killing yourself today, when you thought nobody would know.

You tried hard to fight the black monsters raging within your bones, but decided to finally listen to them. You felt the sharp edge of the knife against your finger, testing and deciding. You walked to the balcony, hands running on the railing, and wondered if it would hurt too bad or feel like flying. You wondered if it was true about drowning- lungs bursting and absolute misery- and vaguely registered that even that sounded less painful than what you were experiencing. That any amount of pain would be better than the cold numbness that had settled within you. You know that had it not been for the shrill call of the telephone, you may not have stopped yourself. You thought I didn’t know your darkness, but I knew.

I saw and I heard and I knew. I am time, you see, my dear. You try to box me into seconds and minutes and hours, but I am un-boxable. I am infinity. I stretch along, holding each one of you in my never-ending arms.

And believe me when I say- Your heart doesn’t have to stop beating to stop hurting. Trust in me and trust in yourself and all will be well. Your laugh will one day actually have happiness, and your food one day will actually reside in your belly, and the knives in your kitchen one day will only be used for chopping vegetables.

Today, I saw you and I heard you and I know you.

But tomorrow! Tomorrow, I promise you, You will see you and You will hear you and You will know you.

And eventually, You will learn to love you.

—-

Feathers

I was waiting for the bus, one day,

when I overheard

a conversation.

There were two speakers.

The first was a boy with

stars in his eyes,

and the second was

a girl

with wind on her lips.

Schoolbags hung

heavy from their wispy shoulders,

but the weight didn’t bother them.

Their hands were entwined,

in the shy gentle way of love

fresh from the oven,

and their voices

were whispered feathers.

I caught one of those

in my palm,

and listened to what it said.

“Where’s home?” the boy

asked,

his voice raspy

and she replied,

“Down the street.”

“Who’s in it?

he asked again,

eager to know

everything,

and she said,

“My parents and Toby.

My mom would be sitting on our

ancient sofa, in her checkerprint

apron reading a magazine.

Dad would have gone to work

in his tweed jacket

his watch wound 5 minutes earlier

to ensure he

was never late.

Toby would be running

around the house

in a flash of gold,

and waiting until I came home.”

She asked him the same.

His eyes hazed,

“My Gran. She has

the wrinkliest face

and makes the best

pie in the world.”

They laughed together,

in their own bubble,

and I

thought

that if someone were to ask me

who was home

they’d get the most

dismal response in

blue curtains

a

broken television

and the

ghost of you.

The Bucket List

The hair is gone

I watch

as she chops it off

and it falls down the sides of my face

like a snowfall of brown

I try not to choke

as I remember the times

when you’d run your fingers

through them

and tell me they smelled of strawberries

and now,

my love,

your strawberries lay at my feet

rotten and dead.

I’m sorry.

I look back at my

reflection

“Dear, it’s all done.”

she whispers.

I wince slightly,

as my head reflects the light

shiny in it’s new landscape

bumps and endless stretches

of bald pavement

“I look like an egg.”

I joke,

she laughs,

but I see the tear.

Life is short,

I know,

trust me.

And so is my bucket list.

It reads thus:

‘Let happiness make you cry’

I want to

bubble over with laughter and

joy

so much so that the emotion

marries

my soul

and my tear-ducts

give their

blessing.

I want other things, too.

Time, firstly.

Time to spend with you

tracing

your spine

and laughing at your geeky

jokes.

I want time to create more memories

like the kind

when we spotted an owl during

a midnight swim

and the kind

where we lay entwined

indistinguishable as two separates

and smiled

into each others beings.

I also want,

selfishly,

a baby.

(she’d have your eyes, darling.)

A little token to leave you with.

Without this

to give you,

only one thought races through my head.

-Sweetheart,

when I’m gone,

will you forget me?-

And then,

when my moment of daydreaming

comes to an end,

after everything,

I think

of only one more thing,

my love,

your gentle, patient face

shadows under your eyes

as you held my hand

last week

so bravely

and now, the sound of your

tapping feet

from outside the room

as you wait to see your

egg-headed wife

and smile encouragingly

(as i know you will),

and I ask,

-Sweetheart,

when I’m gone,

will you forgive me?

Make A Wish

The sunlight landed on the streamers

taped clumsily across the wall

chocolate frosted cake on the table

twenty pairs of eyes blinked at me

hands clapping in glee

“Make A Wish. Blow the Candle”.

mum’s voice blew into my ear

And I wished

that i could eat the icecream

from the cart

across the park

and I wished that

she would buy me that blue

car I had seen in the store.

A group of giggling teenagers

sat huddled across

on a warm bed sharing

snacks and stories

“It’s 11:11! Make A Wish”

they whispered,

And I wished,

that I was more thinner

and less freckled

and that the boy with the

hair like gold

and eyes like emeralds

would walk over and

say hi.

It was a long drive

over endless plains and

the dark sky was lit by

stars scattered

we stopped for a while,

laid down on the sand,

“It’s a shooting star! Make A Wish!”

he pointed,

And I wished,

that my dead baby would

come back gurgling

and playing in my arms

and that

my heart would

start

feeling again.

The fountain was crowded

by hopes and dreams

and I clutched the

penny

skeptically in my palm

“Throw the coin. Make A Wish.”

the signboard promised

and tears in my eyes

and a fervent prayer on my lips,

I wished,

I wished hard to go back

to those times

when my only

wish was

something to eat

&

something to play with.

Iridescent

I’ve always been

white light

as far

back as I recollect

pure

&

drab

then you came

dark swirls

of

lust

over my limbs

knotted

legs and

scratched

backs

peppered kisses

&

stolen glances

heart raced faster

adrenaline

coursed

through veins

they tried

to

tell me

“It’s all wrong;

white is white

black is black

and that

would

never change”

but

you see,

that is the problem (in its entirety)

when I’m

with you

I don’t exist

you don’t exist

I’m not white

you’re not black

we

remain,

together,

iridescent.

Frayed

“I’d like some rope please.”

“I’ll fetch it for you, beta, just a moment.”

“Won’t you hurry, sir? I’m in a bit of a rush.”

“I’m getting them, just wait.”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

“That’d be 500 rupees.”

“500?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

“I’d like some sheets of paper please.”

“Ruled or Un-ruled, beta?”

“Un-ruled.”

“How many?”

“Five. I’d also like five envelopes, and a blue pen.”

“That’d be 100 rupees.”

“100?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

“I’d like to purchase that stool, please.”

“This one, beta?”

“Yes, that very one.”

“We have different colours also, and dif-“

“No, I want this very one.”

“That’ll be 600 rupees.”

“600?! But that’s too much.”

“It’s the finest quality, beta. It

will help you well.”

“Alright.”

He trodded

down the narrow gravel path

his

head spinning

slightly

his hands burnt

around the edges

practising

knots

His empty

apartment

said hello

he nodded back and

said goodbye

went to the room

wrote the letters

tied the rope

and hung

himself

all the while thinking

that the cost

of his

life

had been 1200 rupees.

Queen

We’re all queens. (And Kings.) Please remember that 🙂

Queen.

My chin trembles a little but I hold it higher still
My smile is stuck forever, I’ve swallowed a happy pill.
The fingers they point at me blur into the distance
and the butterflies in my tummy run and prance
For i’m happy and i’m sad
and i’m moody and i’m mad
and i’m in love and I hold grudges
and it’s me who jumps and trudges
and I twirl and I fly
as I take off into the sky
and when I finally land
feet sinking into the sand
I look around and notice
everything that I’d never miss.
I’ve learnt that I’d be my only constant
Everybody else came and went.
And So i began to love my own ways
I sit joyful in my own happy place.
Soon, the accusing eyes begin to turn away
And I spiral into my bubble of bliss, hey!
Look, My gown swishes against the floor
and the doorman grandly opens the door
And I’ve wiped away all traces of a frown
Because I’m wearing my invisible crown.

Lessons from School

My college starts in two weeks, and that’s a really absurd feeling. And yes, by absurd I mean anxious+excited+nostalgic+happy+creeped+relieved. At the biggest moments in your life, when you can sense that change is right around the corner, you tend to look back and assess the damages. What has been my life so far? How many people did I hurt? (Did they totally deserve it xD) Have I changed? Learnt anything ?

As children, we spend most of our lives at school. The classroom whose walls bear (along with cracks, of course) our scribbled drawings and footprints and the mark where someone accidentally splattered paint. The desks where the romantic couple scrawls S+P or T+A in a little heart, and the blackboard- Countless hours spent staring at the blackboard, memorizing every little nook and corner to avoid reading what’s actually been written.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Because to me it feels that all my life, I’ve studied for a test, written it and forgotten everything xD (It’s not just me, go refer: Teenager Post) And looking back, it all seems so arbitrary. I could once recite the periodic table in my sleep, and now. Okay lemme try. Hydrogen Helium Lithium Beryllium Boron Oxygen (??) Carbon Fluorine…Okay, so I muddled up. But at this point, I can tell you all of Fayol’s principles of management without batting an eyelid. I can tell you about how inflation affects the GDP and how money printed abundantly without caution can kill an economy.

It changes. And maybe, if I stopped studying this for a year, I’d forget these too. Which begs the question, what did we REALLY learn from school.

Things I learnt from school:

1) My ABCDs: Okay, so maybe that came in handy.

And the number system and basic addition and multiplication that helps when you calculate the change you need to receive from the auto driver. 😛

2) Fractions: I can now divide a cake between my 4 friends fairly. [I get 4/5th and they each get a third of the remaining one fifth 😉 ]

3) The Punctuation Marks. They come in very handy for emoticons. 🙂 ._. ;_; 😐 heheh.

4) Defending yourself to a teacher will ALWAYS be construed as answering back, and shall ALWAYS send you out the classroom.

5) Nobody goes to the school restroom to pee.

6) That the best memories you make are the ones that get made when you have absolutely no clue you’re making them.

7) #justindianschoolthings Classes aren’t classes, they are fish markets.

8) Lunch breaks are never long enough, and if you’re with your best friends, you rarely eat your own food. It’s a picnic, m8.

9) My school taught me that age didn’t matter for friendship. Well, actually while I learnt this AT my school, it had little in actually teaching it to me, but. We have friends of all ages. In fact, one second grader named Meher actually considers me her older sister ^.^ Watching her and the other kids run to us from the end of the quadrangle is a lovely feeling, because kids love you for who you are. They don’t judge you, they’re just glaringly honest.

10) That you make the best friends of a lifetime at this place. That the classes I’ve bunked were worthwhile because the real lessons were taught outside the classroom. You get defeated and broken a million times, you fail in several tests, you are the social reject…these are challenges you learn to overcome in high school.

When we graduated, our entire batch stood on the stage, holding candles in our hand in a dimmed room. We  were all dressed differently, in shining and elegant and gorgeous saris and crisp, handsome suits. And yet, in the dark, holding the candles, the parents pride reflected in our glimmering eyes- we all looked the same. We all looked hopeful.

And so take it from me, school-goers. It’s okay to bunk a class to go watch a movie with a friend. It’s also okay to sit in the front row of the algebra class, hand poised to shoot up to ask questions. Because there’s no perfect example of how high school should be. High school is simply what you make of it.

 

 

Whispered words

I’d grown up

in the lap of society

She sang me lullabies

I gurgled with glee.

She whispered in my ear

to keep my words to myself.

‘No one should hear you.’

And so I did as instructed

I stifled my voice deep inside.

For so long, in fact,

that I forgot the very sound of it.

Nay,

I forgot its existence.

‘Dear, is this okay?’

They’d ask me.

And I’d nod dumbly along.

‘Shall I do this?’

They’d ask me.

I’d shake my head vehemently,

but their backs were turned to me.

They couldn’t see me,

And they couldn’t hear me.

But I heard them.

I heard the people begging mercy

I heard the click of the shackles on bony hands

And I reached out to them.

Alas, my hands weren’t long enough.

I cried out, ‘Stop this horror.’

But cold air blew out my mouth.

And so

desperate

I tugged at my ears

I clawed at them

I ripped those bloody things away

So I stopped hearing

and pretended that was the solution

the right solution

and the blood continued to flow.

from me

around me

As I closed my eyes and slept peacefully.

I owe you guys a million apologies. My Wifi hasn’t been working for the past couple days, and hence there was no book challenge updates. I shall continue it today evening. PROMISE OKAY.

I had kissed her goodbye.

“Are you okay?” Strange voices filtered through my head, and I nodded vaguely to the concerned strangers.

 

The rain battered down on me, and I was grateful for that, because my tears now camouflaged easily into the background.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

The thought wafted through my head, and punched a crater in my stomach. I could picture her pale face in my head as I told her I was leaving. It looked so terrified I had wanted to hug her and promise her I would always be there for her and tell her I loved her over and over again. Instead, I did none of those things.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

I had expected her to get angry with me. I had expected her to scream and yell and bring the roof down, but she hadn’t. Instead, she had looked at me with still, lifeless eyes and my heart had plummeted to my knees.

 

And so, when she didn’t say anything for a long while, I decided it was time to leave. I took a step closer, she stayed where she was. I let my palm cup her cheek, and shivered slightly at how cold she was. I let my thumb graze her cheek, and I bent towards her. I kissed her softly, on unmoving lips. I looked into her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. She didn’t kiss me back. She made no motion.

 

I stepped away. “Goodbye, beautiful.” I whispered.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

As I reached to door, I turned back and saw her again. I looked at the auburn curls tapering towards her waist, her large brown eyes that used to get away with doing any sort of mischief, the curve of her nose, the mole at the edge of her lip, her fingers at the frays of her yellow sundress.

 

I committed it all to memory.

 

I didn’t want to leave her. That’s all I could think about. I couldn’t leave her like that, alone. And yet I did. As my foot stepped out the door, it carried me far far away from her. There was a strange feeling in my ribcage, though. It was light. Nay, it was weightless. I had, after all, left my heart back with her.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

And so I stumbled along the rain, miserable, lonely and heart-broken. I had just given up on my one epic love, and my life felt like it was collapsing.

 

I must be the one man in history who left the one epic love of his life and then cried about it.

 

I was dumb. I was an idiot. I had left her.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

A week later, I could finally stagger out of my bed. I looked at myself in the mirror. Unkempt hair, unshaved beard. I looked like a ruffian. I shrugged it away as I padded down towards the hallway.

 

It was when I was buttering my fourth toast that I decided. I was going to see her that day.

 

There was a light tingling in the core of my stomach. A tinge of excitement and curiosity. A tinge of knowing I’d be closer to her again.

 

I took a shower, and I shaved and I combed and combed and combed. My hands trembled with anticipation, and I ran to the florist.

 

“Hey, John. The usual, please.” I asked the florist. He made an arrangement of the most beautiful carnations, her favorite. I had got them for her every week.

 

“Thanks.” I yelled, as I ran. I halted when I reached, though. I took a deep breath in, and suddenly, I felt hollow.

 

She probably hated me, I realized. I almost lost my courage to see her, but nevertheless, pushed past the creaky gate.

 

My eyes roamed the large ground to find her, and when I did, I walked slowly towards her.

 

I sat down silently next to her. I placed the flowers on the cold stone, and whimpered, “Forgive me, baby.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I didn’t want to leave you.” I continued.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I didn’t want us to part.” I cried.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I love you, and I miss you, and I want you back.” I said.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

I looked at the encryption on the grave stone. Susie Jones 1994-2014. A loving friend and daughter.

 

“I know you won’t respond. I know you can’t. But I need you to know that I have always loved you since the day we met. You are not just the better half of me, you’re my better whole. You make a good person just by being with me, and Suze, without you, I’m lost. Kissing you goodbye at your funeral was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my entire life. I hope you like the flowers, though.”

 

I cried like a baby at her stone, and her lifeless eyes as I had kissed her goodbye flashed before me once again.

 

I spoke to the stone for hours, never once expecting a reply. I was just content to be close to her. My voice echoed through the graveyard, long after sundown.

Creative Muse: Chameleons

words

There’s always been this one principle I’ve believed in strongly. I call it “The Anti-Chameleon Law”. Actually, I’m kidding. I obviously don’t call it that. Mostly. OKAY OKAY I CALL IT THAT DONT JUDGE.

But the only think we ever associate with chameleons are their power to adapt and change as per their surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, it is good to be an adjusting person. It’s just not good to change yourself simply because someone else wants you to.

Society demands so many things. It demands perfect body measurements and skin tones. It judges you, constantly. You’re, to put it rather crassly, screwed if you don’t follow it’s rules.

We don’t see what we’re doing when we say “Pink is the new black.” We’re dictating. We’re making the Pinks feel great and the blacks feel cheated. And just when the blacks have had enough of the ridicule, and change to pink, it is declared that, “Orange is the new pink.”

Of course I’m not talking about fashion, here. I’m talking about the ever changing expectations of society, and how foolish we are to believe in a constant. Some great person quoted that, “Change is the only constant.” We’ve repeated this statement like a parrot, a million times over. We’ve doodled it, and tumblr-posted it, and said it a million times over, except that we still have not REGISTERED it in our heads. When are we foolishly going to follow someone, simply because “society” revers him ? What is this society anyways? Who is this society? Is there a panel of judges from all walks of life rating characteristics out of ten?

Like, Honesty gets an 8/10 because it’s good, but not all the time unlike peep toes which are just so AWESOME.

Don’t even get me started on how people type lyk dis m8 lyk wat r u spikkin.

If that statement was typed out by an average person, people would be like, “What the ?!”

But if that same statement was said by a twitter celeb with over 1M followers, you’d see the style become viral.

It’s okay to follow a trend. Really. As long as you don’t let it change you. As long as you don’t let it alter with who you are.

Society isn’t made up of god-like people who have their morals so up high that they can judge everybody else against them. Society is made up of “idols” and idiots like you and me who hang on to their every word.

RELATIONSHIPS. Gah. It is in relationships that you most often see this “chameleon-istic” attribute, because everyone wants to seem “swag.” and so damn “upbeat” but here’s the truth, plain and clear,

NOBODY IS EVER GOING TO BE PERFECT. Neither was Mahatma Gandhi and neither is Angelina Jolie. All that matters is rising up with the imperfections, keeping your head held high, believing in who you are. It’s very easy to catch on to a passing trend, but it’s so difficult to do something worthwhile. We’re all made up of the light and the dark, and we’re never going to be wholly anything. WE ARE AN OREO. There’s some light inside all of us, and to reach there, we need to rip open the darker side.

So yeah, I penned down a couple of words regarding this “burning desire” to change people, or yourself into society’s twisted mould of perfection.

Stay true, stay you xD

Love,

JMS

You’re beautiful.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.

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(Photo: Akansha Shekhar my baker, she is so damn beautiful no? I love taking her pics.)

So, very obviously, I am in a James Blunt mood today, and when these lyrics (which he repeats oh so often) kept worming their way into my head, I thought, ah what the heck, its time for a creative muse anyway.

I’m not usually a great complimenter. Especially if people sucked really bad. If a friend comes to me, and asks me to rate her voice, whilst simultaneously sounding like Rebecca Black, I’d probably crack the tiniest of smiles and say, “Wow. You’re wow.”

For a person in love with the english language, when it comes to compliments, I can be quite stingy. It’s not due to lack of wanting to, I assure you. It’s just …tough… at times.

However, there are those times when I’m genuinely blown away by a kind gesture or a fantastic performance, and then words tumble over each other in an effort to come out.

And when I do give a compliment, no matter how shallow or how deep, how placating or how sincere, the joy I see reflected in the persons eyes really warms me.

Here’s the honest-to-god truth in life: PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

(Because, simply, saying it once ain’t enough.)

But that is the truth after all. It’s okay, though. It’s alright to want a reassurance that you’re good enough for the world because it’s too often that people try to prove to you that you’re never good enough.

Vanity about one’s looks or voice or talents or abilities or characteristics often drive people crazy. And I have one advice to all of you.

James Blunt-o-fy yourselves. OH YES, why? BECAUSE YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL. *cue music*

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. There’s nobody who is perfect in this world, and even if there were, gee. What a boring person that must be.

You may be tall or short. You may be thin or fat. You may have curls or straight hair. You may have blue eyes or brown. You may sing great, or break window panes. You may dance gracefully or fall off the stage. You may amuse people, or repel them. You may be any of these things, but you should know that you are you and that is true and no one can be you-er than you. (Whaddup, misquoted Dr.Seuss reference)

I was watching a Reese Witherspoon movie lately, where the hero gives her Play-Doh as a birthday gift. He complements it with a story, about how play-doh was originally intended to be white goo that removed soot of wallpaper, and became obsolete due to heaters, etc. He then said that the guy who invented it suddenly found no demand for his product. His sister-in-law, i think, then asked him to add color to it and use it as modeling clay. And thus the white goo became Play-doh.

What that essentially means is, “we are all just one small adjustment away from making our lives work”.

Which is such a lovely thought, is it not ?

For every person better than you, there’s always one person worse. It’s simple. ITS THE CIRCLE OF LIFE *hakunamatata*

Considering I’ve already entered into Lion King mode, let me just end with a lion king quote.

REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.

*drumroll*

Never lose H.O.P.E (wondering why I acronym-ised it?) H stands for all the hate you’re going to get in life. Don’t lose it. Instead, convert it into the fuel that’s going to drive you forward. O stands for Others. Don’t lose the other people in your life, because they are the ones who make your journey memorable. P stands for Party. Because, well, party. Enjoy. Freak Out. And E as of now stands for elephants. ( Partly because I can’t think of anything else, and partly because…well, SAVE ANIMALS CALL PETA ETCETRA.)

Quick Announcement: As you can see from the photograph, I now have my own digital signature. WOOOHOOOO. Which is essentially just a random font on a photo editing software, but my, doesn’t that look professional? Teehee.