Rain Fall Down

You can never win if your heart is not pure.
Stop playing victim in situations you aren't.
You're the villain, you stupid boy.
You're the villain of your stories.


I know when someone else makes love to you, you'll be thinking of me.
My body.
My heart.
My head.
My sex.
Your hands on my back.
My hand on your dick.
Etc.
Etc.
Etc.

You can woo all the people in the world.
But they'll never love you like I did.
You can put your dick in her face
Her hands
Her vagina
And yet she can never be me.


It's just a matter of a good fuck.
You won't get it though.
I dare you, I double dare you.

I will haunt you for as long as I live
Eat away at your conscience
Reminding you of your ugliness every time you touch someone else.
I dare you to get my sex out of your head.
I double dare you.

And as for me, I'm trying to be an adult.
You know I don't kiss and tell.
I have my flaws, but I am invincible.
I have been through your hell.

Newfound Singlehood:Observations

1.  The ratio of man:woman at social gatherings is terrible. Even if you don't want it, you will find yourself chatting with more men than women.
2. At what point does a conversation become flirting? I am so terrible at flirting. I have the charm of a cockroach. It's sad and hilarious at the same time.
3. It is now very clear that I only pique the interest of 30 somethings and about-to-be 30 somethings. For me, it is scary because I still identify as a girl and not yet a woman. Like a game, I try and pick their brains, try to figure them out. It's exhausting though, they're tougher nuts to crack.
4. My options are endless but why can't I find a person I actually like and want to be with? I'm not compromising anymore, if you want me then you'll have to woo me, seduce me, possibly make me fall in love.
5. Nobody tells you how lonely it gets from time to time. You don't want to spend so much time choosing from available options, ultimately I'd like to hit it off with that one special person and be with them and only them. I wish I could function like a guy in these matters, I'd just fuck and forget. It's a lot more convenient that way.
6. I am totally crushing on a douchebag at the moment. Why, heart, why do you do this to me every time?
7. All these months of being single has made me realise that human beings are conceited, full of themselves and most of them are damaged beyond repair. I almost regret sticking my tongue down this one guy's throat who will just not stop talking about his ex girlfriends and lovers. OH MY GOD, IT IS THE WORST THING, to have to patiently listen to people go on and on and on about their sexual/romantic history. Why do grown-ass men do this!
8. Women are wicked. Stay away from them. DO NOT fall in love with another woman. DO NOT. Just don't, no good will come of it.

Done By None

The older I grow, the more I am sure that dating men isn't quite my thing. I love dick, but I hate the person it comes attached with, usually almost always. The last person I was in a relationship of sorts with, scarred me beyond repair and somehow it's not even about him, all men are like that. At least almost all the ones I have been with so far in life. I don't get men, I just don't understand the way they think and function. First they chase you, woo you only because they want to sleep with you. It's good initially and then they have this obsessive need to look around elsewhere. You can be a goddess in bed and yet your will find it hard to control his roving eye. Why? I don't get why sex is so important for men, sex without any connection, without any intimacy. I need to feel connected to the person I am having sex with, how can I have good sex otherwise? I probably won't even orgasm.
Why can't women orgasm as easily as men?

I have often dated people who I have been obviously too good for and yet it is they who have treated me like shit. It's a little absurd when I think of all the vile things people have done and said. But why? Why are men so cruel?
I'm done with men. All of them. I'm sick and tired of pining after guys only to have them crush my heart into pieces. I think I have been going about this all wrong. I need to find me a good woman with the same relationship goals as me.

Your loss, men of the world.
I could have been the best you've ever had, but you missed your chance.

Coping With Clinical Depression

Nobody goes out of their way to be nice
how many appreciate the beauty of a flower?
it wilts just as quickly as it blossoms
-fading away into oblivion.
Much like me.
So much like me.

In my fortress of solitude that I have built for myself,
I live and I die everyday,
hoping that the heaviness will lift one morning
and the pain will be gone
but nothing changes and everyday is just the same.

It won't be long before I stop dreaming
And face my reality
I came here alone and I shall die alone
Faceless, nameless.

"why can't you be happy?"
"why can't you stop being so depressed all the time?"
they don't know, they wouldn't understand.

I wish I could write love songs for somebody on Valentine's Day, serenade them. But nobody wants me when I don't offer them my body. That's okay I guess, I've never been a priority, some people aren't meant for those things. So I crawl into my shell, I am safe, I am comfortable. I don't need the outside world.

I remember a particular Valentine's Day when I smoked pot for the first time with the dadas from my neighbourhood. My date cancelled on the very last minute and I was terribly heartbroken. This was when I was young and quite stupid. I may know how to roll a joint now but many lightyears ago, the way we smoked weed was by painstakingly stuffing it into a cigarette. Or a chillum. I watched the guys meticulously roll a couple of joints. There was alcohol too, but I wasn't a drinker back then. One of them, my favourite, even got me a tube of dendrite and a polythene bag since he sensed my sadness. The weed made me so lightheaded, so dizzy and it was nothing like my dendrite high. It was fascinating. But I swore to myself that I would never get addicted to it, glue would always be my drug of choice.

I don't remember much from that day, except for feeling very happy not to have spent it alone. It was nice to hang out with a bunch of college boys who treated me as their cool, younger sister. I wonder where they are nowadays. Working perhaps, some maybe even married. It's strange that I've seen 23 Valentine's Days so far and the only one I can recollect at the moment, is one which included no romantic activity with a partner.

Since Shoshibabu's passing, I've been so incredibly lonely that I can physically feel the pain sometimes, like a permanent knot in my stomach, an ulcer, a cyst.
You don't choose your pets, they choose you. If it's meant to be then they'll come to you.

I'm planning to adopt dogs again, after all these years. I grew up with a dog, Ticklie, who was not a pet but a member of the family. She was the cutest thing. My mother tells me that when I was an infant, she would guard my cot and growl at anybody who came too close to it.

I remember my grandfather telling me that Ticklie was resting and would be resting for a long time because she was tired and her body wanted some rest. I knew that she was gone, not just asleep. "Do pets go to heaven when they die?" I asked my grandfather. "Yes, they are god's favourite children" my grandfather told me. And I believed him.
I still do believe that animals go to heaven when they die, unlike the humans who outlive them and are made to rott, here on earth. What is this world but an everyday hell?

It's strange how no human being has been able to love me like my pets have. Unconditional love doesn't exist in humans. That saddens me. We need a day to express love for someone we love/we need a day to remind ourselves that no one loves us.

I've decided to spend this Valentine's Day binge watching a few movies and eating pizza in bed. I figure I don't have to shave my legs and watch my weight since I have nobody who wants me, really wants me.
Everybody likes the person they see on stage, they bow down to her. But off-stage, nobody really cares, all they ever want is to get into that cool chick's pants. 

I would do anything to go back in time, coming back home from school after a particularly bad day and going off to sleep-that was how I'd cope. I'd wake up to find myself hugging my cat who had mysteriously snuggled under the blanket with me.
Simple times. Simple joys.

My pets have always protected me, shielded me from my depression and now that I am all alone, I realise that they weren't mere pets, they were my angels who watched over me and took care of me. They wanted nothing in return, their love was selfless and uncoditonal.
It also made me realise that I am incapable of being loved by a human being and I am incapable of loving them back. I do not understand the concept of love, as perceived by humans.

But that's okay I guess. I tell myself that I can live without human company, affection. I'm more inclined towards looking for a pair of dogs (or cats) to share my home with, to give my love to. My Prince Charming will only poison my soul once hes sticks his dick inside me. Disney movies are not real. The reality of love is that it is just an elaborate porno about two humans choosing to mate to ensure the continuation of their species. All other things are just lies.

I'm 23 and all alone on the day of love. If I don't learn my lesson now then I probably deserve what I'm getting.

As Above, As Below

I turn twenty fuckin four this year, would you believe it! I made a bucket list of all the things to do before 30 and even though I've crossed a lot of things off that list, I doubt I'll be able to complete it. It's the second month of the year and I hate 2015 already. I feel like life is stabbing me in the chest every goddamn day of this year. Everything is falling apart. I am falling apart.

I've never believed in god. I can't believe in something I can't see, touch, feel. I believe in the universe, but does an entity that we've christened "god" exist? I don't know. I don't believe yet.

This year, I want to find myself more than anything else. I want to understand myself, slay my demons and let go of my tendency to be dependent on others' love. I need to find my peace. I need to find my light.

A ship lost at sea, my mind's been adrift for too long now. What the fuck am I doing wasting my time trying to write that one song which will change me forever?
I've been trying so hard to bring out my monster, give it a voice and make it sing. All my new material is grotesque, intimidating. But this process is taking a toll on me. I cannot separate my art from my life and I can feel it slowly taking control over my entire life.

I want to sing better, I've been practising hard.
I want to play better guitar, I've been practising hard.
I want to write better music, I've been trying hard.
I want to be happy, how do I do that?


Ideas they come and go, sometime I hold on to them, milk them into a song. But only in vain. Anything I try to write is shit. Absolute shit.

All I want to do is find myself, maybe then I'll be able to write a decent song.

resolutions twentyfifteen

1. DON'T HAVE SEX!
I'm getting too old to be fucking someone who ultimately doesn't care about my existence. Sex is special and like any good drug, if you go overboard, you end up ruining your life as well as the trip. I wish I could go back in time and explain this to my younger and naive self. But I guess it's better late than never.

2. WRITE! WRITE! WRITE!
It doesn't matter if it's good or rubbish. I need to cut myself some slack and just write. I desperately need to get rid of this writers' block.

3. READ MORE.
Self-explanatory, this one. The last book I picked up and subsequently abandoned was Murakami's Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki. I feel terribly guilty,

4. DON'T DO DRUGS UNLESS IT'S A SPECIAL MOMENT.
It loses it's charm when you do it too often. Don't.

5. DRINK LIKE A 30-YEAR OLD.
Go easy, go slow. It's about time I started to drink in moderation. Early morning rum and a joint needs to stop. The party ended a while back.

Not Old Enough To Be Young Yet

It's always the same dream these days, always. Vivid, vivid details and pretty much the same storyline. I'm pregnant and soon to be a single mother. It always ends in miscarriage or in death. I wake up crying the same tears literally every goddamn day. Is it because I don't think I am capable of handling my own life without someone else's support? Why do I keep seeing the same things and the same people?
Yesterday it was a previous lover and his new found romance, completely oblivious to my pain and today it was just me trying to run without falling down (which I did btw, totally killing the baby in the womb), away from a beast who was trying to kill me.
The supporting characters in my dream are always so indifferent, so apathetic. I'm scared of falling asleep because it's been 5 days in a row and I'm starting to think that I am in fact losing my mind.

Happy Birthday

Only memories of a Christmas eve remain, the best in my life I think.
We could have been childhood sweethearts, the ones who grew up together. Did everything together.
We could have been the old couple we saw once, fighting to stay sane, but so deeply in love.
We could have been married, we could have started a family.
With pets. So many pets.
You could have been a regular nine-to-five Joe.
I would have been your average Bengali Jane.
But in love, in so much love.


I wish I could spend my entire life rewinding and replaying all our memories in my head.
Winter evenings.
Summer afternoons.
Christmas eve.
Your sweet sixteenth birthday.
Your first kiss.
Our first kiss.
We could have reminisced our wild, wild days as we grew older.

Drunk. Hormonal. Doing bad drugs.
But so attracted to each other.
I couldn't take my eyes off you and you couldn't keep your hands off me.
People said that we'd make a good looking couple.
I wish I could marry you.
I wish I could have your babies.
But most of all, I wish I could stop you before you plunged into darkness.

Winter Afternoons in Dilli

They're playing AM by the Arctic Monkeys in the next room and here I am, in bed, refusing to get out and say 'hi'.
What is the point? Everyone's just going to walk all over me, like they always do.

I can't believe I've let myself become this person. So lonely, so insecure, so broken. Like picking at a scab that hasn't healed, my wounds get opened and re-opened again. I don't know why. What am I doing wrong?
Am I not worthy of love and attention?
Why do I get treated like shit then?

People say that they've changed, changed for the better. But nothing ever changes, only time. I can't see into my future anymore. It's been so long since I last felt loved that I've forgotten what it feels like.

My life could have been all about the sex I had with A, while listening to the Arctic Monkeys and Bonobo and what not, but unfortunately, it isn't. It's only about the battlescars that he left behind. It's only a tragic tale of falling in love and having my heart broken, my sense of self taken away.

I can't remember the last time I had goosebumps on my skin when somebody touched me, ran their hands down my back. I can't remember the last time someone kissed me and saw straight into my soul. I can't remember. Why can't I remember? Has it really been that long?

I find myself becoming possessive and jealous, bitter and negative. This wasn't me. I guess time's changed me into a new person and unwillingly I'm just going with the flow.

Maybe I'm one of those people who'll end up alone no matter how hard I try. But it's okay, I'm trying to toughen my heart till it becomes a stone. I'm trying hard, very hard, to give up on the idea of love. Maybe it does exist, just that I probably will never find it. That is my curse.

I Can't Let You In

I can't let you touch me,

I'm too broken and too fragile.

He came and he plundered

My sense of self, my sense of self-worth.

I can't let you kiss me,

My tongue only spews venom

He kissed me till I bled

And now I have not a drop of blood left.

I can't let you hold me

The goosebumps on my skin are permanent.

He scratched at pawed at his will

And discarded me when he was done.

I can't let you love me

My heart's too broken for love

He said he'd love me forever

But he couldn't even for a minute.

I feel like I am completely unloveable. 

Maybe I really am.

I get my hopes up every time

Only to be let down by the same man.

memorium

All my losses have made me a bitter person.
The loss of innocence.
The loss of love.
The loss of loved ones.
The loss of a will to live.

Sometimes when I'm lying in bed trying hard not to break down and cry, I anticipate my cat curling up on my leg and gently purring me to sleep. But he's not around anymore. I miss him so much. I miss him like a mother misses her child. I try to think about what an eventful, what a privileged life I have, I don't have to worry about two square meals a day unlike so many people. However, deprivation is a relative thing and just because I don't live in extreme poverty and sorrow, does not mean that I am not suffering. It does not mean that my suffering is irrelevant, not painful enough.

Slowly but steadily this depression has taken over all the cells in my body. It now dictates who I am. It controls me. It causes me to isolate myself from everyone around me. I've built myself a nice wall and I allow nobody to break it down anymore.

I like to think of myself as a princess sometimes, waiting to be saved from her loneliness and her unending tragedies. I have waited to be rescued for quite some time now and I'm starting to think that there is no saviour, there is no prince to my story. It's just me, alone, all alone. I will either have to rescue myself or perish nameless and faceless, not to mention loveless.

Where is my will to hold on?
It never existed perhaps.

Live and Learn

There are few things more heartbreaking than a sick, possibly dying pet. I have grown up around and with a dog and a whole bunch of cats. So I don't know what life is like without having them around. My dog died when I was quite young. She was old and sick and it seemed like a good thing at that time-to watch her go. She would accompany my grandfather as he picked me up from the bus-stop and everybody would go gaga over her from the school bus. I have been told that when I was younger, she would sit beside my cot and keep an eye on me. She'd growl and bark every time relatives or acquaintances would come near it.
Dogs make the best pets, they say. It is quite true. Cats can never be your pet. They become the eccentric family member, the non-conformist, never your pet.

Shoshi was found when he was barely a month old. He was the cutest, jumpiest little thing. I brought him home in a shoebox and fed him some milk and a little fish because I was unsure how old he was. On his first night at home, I was absolutely petrified like the mother of a newborn baby. I made a bed right next to me and put him there to sleep. I kept the lights on and woke up in the middle of the night to see that he was missing. It turned out that the fucker, barely a month old, had climbed down my bed and was frolicking around under it because he could not sleep!

To see him reduced to a bag of skin and bones, barely breathing breaks my heart into a million little pieces and I can only stand beside him as doctors and their assistants try and do their best to revive him.

It'll be a miracle if he survives. I'll have to hold my breath for the next couple of days. Let's see what fate has in store for him. He's too young to suffer. Please don't make him suffer, universe. That's all I'm asking for at the moment.

Wisdom Teeth

The blood that runs through my veins,
feels contaminated,
feels inadequate.
I'd bleed myself dry if you wanted me to.

I'd do anything.
I'd do anything to be alright.
I'd do anything to be alright with you.

The thoughts that cross my mind,
seem shallow,
seem banal.
I'd spend a lifetime in darkness if you wanted me to.

I'd do anything.
I'd do anything to be alright.
I'd do anything to be alright with you.

These demons on my back,
this burden on my chest,
I'd do it and then do it again,
Just because you want me to be the best.

I'd do anything.
I'd do anything to be alright.
I'd do anything to make you alright again.

The Tenth Day

It was a few years ago, our last together, when we accidentally stumbled onto each other. 'Durga Pujo' is the magical time of the year when miracles happen. Miracles and chance encounters have happened for as long as I remember. That was the last year a miracle happened, for me. I met you. Of all the people in the world, it was you I bumped into and I wish I could do it over and over again.

What if soulmates really do exist? What if you were my soulmate? Does that mean that I am destined to be alone forever, now that you're gone?

I hate this city during this time of the year. I hate stepping out of my house. What is the point, it's not like I'll see you somewhere, amongst the crowd. The last time we met was probably when I fell in love with you. You looked at me with such kindness, such compassion. The lust that brought us together was replaced by a sense of belonging. We someone fit into a perfect mould together. Our connection was so surreal, so strong and yet neither of us knew that this wouldn't last forever.

I wish I hadn't turned you down when you asked me to be your "girlfriend", I was scared and I didn't know that the time we had together would be so short. I wish we could have settled down eventually, gotten married and even have a kid maybe. We used to joke about things like that, things like how I'd make one lousy wife and you'd be a shitty husband and how we'd be the worst possible parents for a child. The jokes have stopped now. My reality is that I'll probably land up alone, trying to navigate my way through a series of bad relationships and meaningless sex.
I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted you to be a part of my life. I know you're still around watching over me. I know you're happy when I am happy and you're sad when I am. But I miss your embrace so much.
Sometimes I want to stay in bed and sleep forever to ease the pain of not having you around. I try and replay our first kiss over and over again in my head. But the details are getting blurry as time passes me by, your face is starting to fade.

Maybe in a few years, when I'm done living this life, I will come and join you wherever you are. The white light found you before it found me but not even death can keep us apart forever and it is only a matter of time till I find you again and this time I'm not letting go...

Come Inside, Come Around

I lay there on the bed-vulnerable like a domesticated animal. He wasn't around. He never was and he never will be. My eyes red and puffy from all the crying and my throat sore, I wondered why my life had come down to this. I was losing all control and like a diseased limb, I realised that I had to cut myself off from his toxic behaviour, before it was too late.

There were many firsts with him, things I now wish I had saved for someone else, someone who will take better care of me. But what do you do when your heart is broken over and over again by the same person who promises you that this infact is the last time?

Men often prove their superiority over you by making you feel like a whore and he was no exception. I let him come inside me-a first (and probably the last too) and while I could feel a connection as he thrust his manhood into me, it was only temporary. I was discarded like garbage the minute he pulled out. He was done. The act was over. I meant nothing to him anymore. That was all there was to it-I was his sex doll.

I cried myself to sleep that night. I was alone in a room far away from home. He was right outside laughing smoking drinking and having the best possible birthday one could ask for. I was his trophy on display that he left for others to see. He didn't hug me to sleep like I thought he would. He didn't comfort me even though he knew that that night was a milestone in my life. He didn't defend my honour. He didn't defend my pride. He didn't defend my womanhood. I was his prostitute. I was his slave. It had always been that way. I was too blind to see otherwise. But I know now. My epiphany, though painful, happened during these last few days. I cannot control how people behave with me but I can control who is in my life and who isn't. It hurts like hell, but I have to let go off people who don't and can't take care of me. It's not worth the pain.

It hurts when people let you down. It hurts when someone you try to make love to ends up leaving you feel like nothing but an outlet for their sexual appetite. I was probably only just that to him. Everything else was lies-lies that he rambled to get what he wanted from me-my body.

I am no longer attracted to him and I no longer crave for him. I may be wounded and my heart may have this void but I guess it's better to suffer alone than be with someone who doesn't treat you right.
They say that being brave and keeping your heart open to love is like playing Russian Roulette these days. I've been shot down over and over again. It's okay though. I still have a lot of love to give to this world, it doesn't matter if it's not him. Someone else will come along in my life soon. I can sense it.

When he tries to kiss the next girl in his life, I hope he remembers the pain he caused me and I hope he can't shut memories of me lying on the bed weak and vulnerable when he thrusts into the next girl. I hope he becomes a better person some day. I can't wait forever though.
I've moved on.
I'm gone.

Cheater Cocks (and Sometimes Pussies Too)

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/07/23/the-cheaters-guide-to-love?utm_source=tny&utm_campaign=generalsocial&utm_medium=facebook&mbid=social_facebook

I read this poignant piece today and it reminded me of what a horrible, horrible thing infidelity can be. Love is fleeting, it comes and goes when it pleases, but trust is the glue that holds the relationship, any relationship, together. I wake up some mornings with a heart filled with love and only love. I find no flaws, nothing sets me off. But there are days when I feel bitter and quite frankly, tired. I want to end it all, erase the slate and move on, onto greener pastures perhaps.

It's human nature to get used to a pattern. My pattern is getting used to people who are usually all wrong for me. I fall in love so easily and yet I can't stay there. I snap out of it. That's what my problem is.
My first boyfriend and I went out for nearly a year till the hues of the relationship changed to more morbid, cynical ones. Was it the sex? Of course it wasn't the sex! We were too young to be fucking. It took us a really long time to get there. I was vacationing somewhere during that summer, away from him. We'd talk once in a while. I could sense something was amiss, but I didn't read too much into it. 'I'll be back soon', I'd tell him. 'I'll be back soon', I'd tell myself. Everything would be dandy again.
They weren't. My absence had driven him to ask a girl out on a date. What's the big deal? You'd think. But for me it was. The action didn't bother me, the fact that he felt the need to hide it from me even after I confronted him did. Things had somehow broken, they weren't the same. My ego was bruised and I did my best to take revenge on his minor infidelity by teaching him a lesson. I kissed his best friend and slept with another friend of his. He found out. I wanted him to find out. He dumped me. I wanted him to dump me. His heart was broken. I had achieved relative success. But in the process, my heart was broken as well. I didn't want to cheat on him. It was a bad, bad decision. Instead of fixing the problem, I had only made the cracks appear wider. I learnt my lesson. I'd never break someone's heart just to teach them a lesson. Why did my boyfriend have to ask someone else out? Was I not good enough? What did I lack? I tortured myself over these things long after the entire episode was over. Why did I have to break his heart just because he broke mine? I asked myself but there was no answer.
How could I be so unkind?
We tried to make things work again years later. But it just wasn't the same. The sanctity of the bond that we once shared was lost somehow, amongst all the blaming and the lying and the crying. We did what two sensible people would do-bid each other goodbye and exit from each other's lives.

I navigated through relationships and meaningless sex for a while after that. But I was never really happy. I wanted someone to hold me, someone to tell me that I'd be alright. I wanted someone to love me for who I was and not because I put out.
I had just started singing at Someplace Else when I was 18. I was the new kid on the block. I met a boy on orkut who seemed cool. I was infatuated with him despite his questionable reputation. People looked at us when we were out in public with questionable eyes. 'What's a girl like her doing with a guy like him?' they'd always seem to be asking silently. But I paid no heed. Looks weren't everything. There was so much more to a person than their looks. I've always been a firm believer of that. I liked him. I was almost falling for him. During the pujas one year, I remember being rather drunk and fooling around with him. He whispered the taboo words as he lay on top me. "Don't say it if you don't mean it." I said crying. "I love you" he said again. I was crying like a child in his arms before I knew it. I couldn't feel any love. I knew he didn't mean what he say. I knew he didn't love me. But he insisted anyway. I fell for it eventually. After putting up with the boy's emotional torture for months. I gave up. It happened one night, the night before my class 12 psychology board-exam. I broke up with him, unable to take his emotional blackmail anymore. I drank all the alcohol I could find and turned up for the exam with a hangover. But I was glad I did what I did. I moved on from him to the next one.
A few months later, when a common friend told me that he went to his ex-girlfriend and fucked her the very day after he asked me out, I let it go, pretending like it didn't bother me.
It did bother me. It bothered me quite a bit. Why would a boy go sleep with his ex-girlfriend the very next day after asking someone out? How could someone be so cruel? So disrespectful towards love and relationships? I don't know what happened to him since. I don't really care anymore. It's strange though, that even if I do think of him when summarizing my past relationships, it's always the lying and the cheating that comes to mind first.

They say that girls and boys cheat for very different reasons. I don't know if that's true. But I have cheated so many times in the past that at one point I remember thinking of myself as such a stud because I was able to pull it off. I was sleeping around and even though everybody knew, they pretended like they didn't. My epiphany came one afternoon when I went to a friend's place. I swore to myself that I wouldn't succumb to his charm. I'd stay true to the boy I'd been dating then. Sure he was a little dull, but he was sweet and he cared. But I broke my promise to myself. I slept with my friend. I couldn't resist. I had reached the lowest point in my life. I needed to detox. I swore to myself that I'd mend my ways. I did.

I put up with the boy who beat me everytime he felt jealous. I put with the boy who humiliated me in front of friends, constantly belittling me. I put up with the boy who once urinated on me. I thought it was my penance for my past. It was my karma getting back at me for breaking hearts. I took it all, never complaining. Maybe I wasn't destined for a great romance. You could make a BDSM porno out of my love-life at best, never a Mills and Boon novel.

The good thing about time is that it heals most wounds. I no longer feel like the villain in a relationship and neither do I feel like a victim. Emancipation is a strange thing, you find it in the strangest of places. My emancipation comes from the fact that I have the ability to forgive. I find it comforting to forgive those who hurt me. I pray that those who I have hurt over all these years forgive me as well. That's the only way to move forward.

I don't forget though. How can I forget the look on his face when he saw me kiss someone? It broke his heart. It broke my heart to see him so shattered.
I never forget. I never forget how lonely and unloved I felt when his friends told me that he was cheating on me and it had been on multiple occasions, not once like he claimed. I wouldn't want my worst enemies to feel that shattered.

As someone who has cheated and been cheated on, it's the suppression of information from your partner that hurts more than the act itself. I respect those who have the courage to admit to the fact that they've cheated. I respect those who have the courage to seek forgiveness. Lying about it doesn't make a person clever or smart, it only makes them a coward, spineless, gutless. Men who lie about cheating are no men at all. Women who lie about cheating are no women at all. But hey, that's just my opinion. Cheating is rather relative. Some people think it's okay to flirt with as long as it's healthy and no actual physical cheating is involved. Some people think it's not. Some people don't think it's cheating when they sleep around, as long as they love only one person and some people think that is a rather absurd concept. For me it's doing something that I wouldn't want my partner to do. It's suppressing information, no matter how insignificant, because they might suspect something. If I'm, say, out drinking at a party with a friend and there's nothing going on between us, I should be able to tell my boyfriend. After all I have nothing to hide. But having said that, at the end of the day, all I want would be to spend some time with my boyfriend and him alone, instead of going out and meeting others. Because that's just the kind of person that I am. The whole world may want to get in my pants, but I usually always have my heart set on one.

Anyway, I'm not going to wallow on all the things that went wrong in the past because being the forever optimist that I am, I firmly believe that someday, I will find that perfect man who will love me and only me. He'll tell me that he loves me and I'll believe him. I wont feel the need to keep my options open and he'll be more than glad to be with me and me alone.
Maybe I'll be able to make love to him and not get bruised, so bruised in the process. In my relationship utopia, there aren't a hundred Adonis' and Hercules', there is one. Only one. The one who makes me goes weak in the knees. The one who means it every time that he loves me, but most importantly, one who'll have his eyes on me and me alone, as will I.

Till he comes along, I can only wait the endless wait. But I am hopeful that he's around the corner somewhere and it's only a matter of time before our story begins.

I think I'm ready to be in a relationship again. A real one this time. I want to dive into it with all I have and not look back. My heart is finally free of all the baggage it had been dragging along all this while. I am finally free. I'm not afraid to love.

Love, come to me, I am ready for you.

The D-Word

I woke up on the floor with no memory of what had happened and how I got there. Seemed like I had passed out while fixing myself a snack. Well dinner at 3am, actually. I helped myself get up, go downstairs and curl into bed. In-between trying very hard not to lose consciousness again in the process, I realised that this was what my life was always going to be-helping myself get back on my feet every time I fall. I have no one and no one has me.

I really wanted to get away from this city after I was done recording the album. I really wanted to clear my head after what was one of the most intense weeks of my life. But recording is an expensive process and even more so when you don't have a sponsor and neither are your parents rich and influential. I (we actually, not me alone) spent whatever little money I had saved. So I'm stuck here with a million little things in my head, which is making me go crazy.

My depression has been quite uncontrollable for the last week. I just want this phase to get over so badly. I hate bothering to tell people about my depression because very few people take it seriously. Depression is not a feeling, it's a disease that eats away every cell in your body as time passes. "My boyfriend forgot our 5-month anniversary, I'm so depressed"-no you're not depressed, you're just upset. I hate how loosely people throw around the word like they really know what it feels like to be depressed.

There are times when I don't leave my room for days at a stretch. I cut myself off from the outside world. I don't talk to anybody. I don't eat. I don't shower. I just lay in my bed praying for the day to get over. Until I wake up the next day and it's just the same, no better. I don't know why I am so incredibly sad. I cry and cry for hours when no one's around and yet I feel no better. Every morning has a fresh start they say, but all my mornings are the same. It's just crying against the pillow for no apparent reason and then going back to sleep again.
Sleep it out, sleep it out, I tell myself. But it doesn't work. I try writing new material, but my voice chokes as I try to sing.

I remember my self-mutilation phase when I was 15ish, I'd take a blade and make incisions on my skin just to stop feeling all the pain that I felt in my heart. But I was never one of those teenagers slashing away just to get some attention. I'd keep my scars a secret, in places which you wouldn't notice at first. I can't do the same now. I feel like I still owe my body some mercy for what I've put it through all these years.

The worst part of depression is that it makes you forget all the good things about you, around you. The melancholy overpowers whatever little good thing you have going on in your life. I know I should feel lucky to be where I am today, but I can't help but feel like all that motivational self-talk is just bullshit.

I know I can get through this. I have been through this feeling so many times before. It's just that I'm growing older as everyday passes and the struggle to be happy is just getting harder with every fit.

I want to fast-forward to the future when I'm with someone who understands my depression and loves me inspite of it. I can be quite adorable otherwise. I promise. Although my depression hangs over me like the shadow of death. I want to be able to share my grief with someone, anyone. That's all I want from life sometimes.
I guess that's why I always end up making the worst possible choices when it comes to relationships. I think I give my heart away too soon every time, make love with all the passion that I have inside me only to be greatly disappointed by the big void that nobody seems to be able to fill. The fault lies in me, maybe I'm too needy, too hopeful that someone will fix my depression for me someday. Maybe I have to do it on my own-get over it and not let it get to me instead.

I have lived for days at a stretch without any human contact. I have literally not spoken to another soul for days at a stretch at one point. That was the lowest I have ever sunk. This time it sure feels like a close second. I wonder what difference it would make to other people if I didn't exist at all. Would they notice at all? Would they care? Would they remember my face and remember all the seemingly good things about me?

All the calls I get on my phone are either work-related or people calling to talk about themselves. Nobody wants to hear my story so I tell no one anything. People on social networking sites make witty comments and logical arguments every time I post anything and yet none of them know me. Or maybe I should say none of them have any idea what really goes on in my head, who I really am.


"I am fine. I am good" that's what I tell the world bravely,even though I feel like I've been broken into a million little pieces. I really don't know how to fix this on my own. Therapy's not helping either. Like I said before, maybe this will what my life will always be like. A strong, confident person to the outside world who'd drop everything to help someone else out, but irreparably damaged inside. Only I know how hard is to be suffering from a disorder which no one else seems to understand.

Anyway, why am I even writing this? Does anybody even read this anymore?

Goodnight cruel world.

Crazy/(Not) Beautiful

Adolescence was never a regular affair for me. I've always felt isolated from what goes on around me, like I don't really belong.
Delhi has been somewhat surreal so far, I've learned more about myself in the last few months than I ever did sitting in my room in Calcutta.
I've come to terms with the fact that I will always be lonely. Nobody can fill the void. Not because nobody can, but because I don't want anybody to.
My void gives me a sense of purpose.
It keeps me going.
Floating from place to place.
Moving on from one person to another.
My void gives me life.

I've been called many a name, both to my face and behind my back. Some hurt and some I dismiss as a joke, to be taken with a pinch of salt.
People sometimes do and say the most cruel things unintentionally.
I let it all go.
I feed the void.
It grows.
It takes over my brain.
My void consumes me.
I let it.
It gives my life some meaning that way.

I have been manic and depressed for as long as I can remember.
How did things get so fucked up?
I cannot remember.
My head has stopped listening to me.

Cherish the time that you spend with me.

I will be gone soon.

Forever.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

In a strange new land.

Strange faces.

Strange memories.

Where nothing makes sense anymore.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

Only you can help me heal.

I should have cherished the time we spent together.

Taken pictures of ourselves.

Written each other little notes.

But we didn't.

We thought we were invincible.

But you're gone now.

It makes me sad.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

The loop is endless.

So Less, Soul-less.

I wonder if I'm going to turn into a full blown alcoholic by the time I'm 30 years old. I started my day with some rum and I'm ending it with the same. It's not normal, at least not for a 21 year old. I don't drink too much, I don't act too crazy when drunk. I act normal and that's rather unhealthy.

I drink because it helps me reach other people, or rather it helps them reach me. I can't seem to relate to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a loner, but I just can't seem to be able to open up to another person beyond a certain point, feel as though I know them and they know me.

It's terrible to feel so lonely, day in and day out.

Depression has always been the dominant part of my bipolarity. I have been depressed for as long as I can remember. Depression is not a feeling, it's a disease that eats away whatever little hope you have left inside you.
There are days when I don't feel like getting out of bed at all, so I don't. I stay in bed all day doing nothing but bawling, but why? I don't know. That's what depression is for me. It's that feeling of sheer helplessness which makes you want to do nothing but cry.

So I cry sometimes. I cry a lot. But that's only for me to see, it's a secret that I tuck away from the rest of the world.

And I think of the physical abuse.
And the shame.
And the self-loathing.
And the pain.
And the heartbreak.

And I cry some more.

I wonder if I had been this damaged had I not been raped a decade back.
I wonder all sorts of things.
To make that sinking feeling go away. But nothing I do seems to be enough and I land up sabotaging my relationships with all those who are close to me in some way or the other.

It is a vicious cycle of abuse in a way. It doesn't end. It will never end.