Lovers In Summer

I want to tear you apart.

Break down your walls.

High, like the Great Wall of China.

What causes you to be so scared?

I want to consume you.

Cell by cell.

Your love.

Your hate.

Your indifference.

I want it all.

We are all so broken.

Craving for some attention.

Like dogs,

But without their kindness.

Humans without hearts.

Cruel.

Villanous.

I dreamt of you last night,

Of our summer rendezvous. 

Bodies entwined.

Lips locked.

One.

Complete.

So vulnerable.

Goosebumps on my skin.

I swear to god I could have cried.

Even though I am emotionally bankrupt.

I've been conditioned to pain.

But I'll snap out of it soon.

Don't scar my face.

Don't scar my body.

Don't scar me, again.

Don't be like the others, please.

Gentle lover.

Gluing pieces of me back together with your kisses.

Make me feel like a woman, again.

For I am no longer a child.

I will survive, again.

For I am no longer afraid.

You can't break my heart if I don't give it to you.

Love is an elaborate lie.

It does not exist.

You've been duped.

As have I.

We're too old to play this game anymore.

Come to me.

Let me comfort you.

Chase your demons away.

I am here.

At your disposal.

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.

Babe,

(You just pictured me seductively moan "babe" into your ear, didn't you, you cheap fuck? ) I miss you. I miss how we'd kiss, how you'd hold my hand and guide me from time to time. I miss you and the way you'd hold me, hug me and console me. I miss the way you'd run your fingers through my hair and down my back, I miss how you'd squeeze my butt, my breasts and run your nails down my body. You'd finger me. You'd fuck me and you'd make me cry out for more. You were everything I wanted but I guess I was never good enough for you.
You never loved me the way I should have been loved. 'Why are you so hot' you exclaimed when you were busy sticking your dick inside me, onetime. That was always it for you. I was a hot, modern yogic piece of meat for you, never more. You never tried to understand me. You blamed the ex-lovers for getting in the way, but never blamed yourself. My ex-lovers were never throwing themselves at juvenile sluts, you were. My ex-lovers were never lying to me, you were. My ex-lovers were never abandoning me, you were. My ex-lovers were gone from the frame, Only you were around, but it is so much easier to blame someone else that yourself, isn't it?

I think about the sex we had from time to time and I pray that it wasn't the greatest I'll ever experience, I pray that it will be better for me someday. I pray for average sex with someone who'll love me with their heart over great sex with someone who will ultimately leave me feeling like a whore. I want to close my eyes and make love with someone, someday. I know I will, because you sure can fuck me hard and fuck me fast, but you've never been able to bare yourself and make love to me. It takes some amount of sensitivity and genuineness-qualities which you clearly don't possess.

Pay someone a thousand rupees and they'd probably do the same as I did. I was your cheap cheap cheap fucking whore, nothing more. Pay a whore a thousand rupees or slightly more and she'd swallow your semen and tell you how much she loves you as well. There is no real difference, is there? It's all just the same, girl A girl B girl X girl Y...it's all just the same. Scope them out on facebook, flirt your balls off, dream of fucking them someday somewhere. The cycle is endless. Two birds in the bush are quite obviously better than the one in hand, ain't it?

Pay a whore some money and she'd dress up all nice for you, be lady you can show off to your friends. There is no difference. They won't let you kiss them on the mouth though, But I wouldn't know, the lovers of my past have been completely satisfied with me, they've never had to look around as much as you've had to. they've never had to visit the rendipotti in Calcutta or elsewhere because despite my frail frame, I've been more than enough woman for them. You're the only asshole who I was obviously not enough for. I guess maybe if I was younger, sluttier, and had bigger boobs, maybe then I'd have your undivided attention. But what to do, I can't and I won't let someone like you make me feel inferior. If I had to take revenge then I'd talk about the size and girth of your fucking dick, your manhood. But I won't go there. I am not the peasant that you are. I am royalty, bitch.

People are obstinate, people don't change. Perhaps sometimes they get better at covering their tracks when they lie. But they never change. Anything you hear on the contrary, are just lies.

The older I grow, the more I realise that I want to settle down with someone, marry them and have their babies. I want to be in an average mediocre relationship with someone loyal, faithful and loving. I don't want adventures and grand plans. I just want someone who'll love me and complete me. I want someone who'll treat me right and be there for me when I need them the most.

The sex with you was probably the only thing I remember fondly, but then again, you never really understood and valued me. Because if you had then you'd never let me go. You'd never treat me the way you did. I was your hooker, I was never your lover. Dignity, look up the word on a dictionary, I don't think you know what it means. My ego has never swallowed me whole and every time you treated me like dirt at public places, I took it with a pinch of salt figuring that you're perhaps too naive, you're one of those asshole chauvinists who will perhaps change someday as they grow older.
It's strange how the more I let you treat me badly, the more you went ahead and did indeed. A showpiece, a prize, that's all I amounted to for you. But you forgot, you poor boy, was that everything has a repercussion. If you were to ever father a girl child some day, I pray that nobody ever treats her the way you treated me. Seriously, can you imagine the rage and the humiliation you'd feel? It's cool to treat women like your sextoys, isn't it? Wait till you have a daughter of your own, you cunt. Or would you be okay with someone treating her like a prostitute as well?

It's okay I guess. You're old enough to understand that we belong to two very different spheres. We want something completely different out of our lives. You want hot chicks, a whole bunch of them to adore you, you want to be rich and famous, I just want to settle down with a man and a dog (two actually) somewhere and write my music. Our priorities in life are very different.

You hurt me and I will eventually forgive you, with time. But I will never forgive myself for falling for a fraud. I always fall for a fraud. I guess that's my weak point, thank you for tapping into it. You're not much different from the guy who raped me. I feel stupid thinking that somebody would love me for my soul and the kind of person that I am. I guess the perils of having a moderately fuckable body is that guys will always only want to fuck you and dump you after that.

I don't know why that is though. Am I that ugly? Or does nobody want to love me because I'm tainted, because I've been raped? It's like everyone wants to stick their dick in me but nobody wants to stick around. I guess there are a few drawbacks of being raped during your adolescence, everybody assumes that you're a piece of shit and that you do deserve to be treated like one. Sometimes I feel like I should douse myself in kerosene and set myself on fire, just die. Perhaps nobody will love me. Everybody just wants to have a go at me, fuck me and then abandon me.
I guess not every girl has a happy ending. Some people, like me, unfortunately become the victims of the cruel game called life. I don't blame you, you had your go-duping me from time to time. I hope you had a good time. I hope I was able to "love you long time." The gifts make sense now. I'm not a cheap hooker, I'm one of those classy ones, you give me gifts and I give blowjobs etc etc.

I sometimes wonder if you think of me too. I wonder if you remember the time at your place when I trusted you to make love to me. Wait, who am I kidding. Your memory is probably too jammed from the fucking drugs and the superficial lifestyle. How could you remember, if you had any respect and valued sentiments, you wouldn't let me go so far away/

Someone told me that you've been writing about me, that you put up a naked picture of me. You know what, I won't give you the pleasure by even reading what you have to say to the whole wide world. I give a flying fuck. Try as hard as you can, pull of all your unimaginative and incredibly mediocre stunts, I'm gone. I'm really really gone. You're just a waste of time in my 23 years of existence, nothing more. If I can get over the person who I loved for the first time in life who raped me, then getting over you should be a piece of cake. I'm done waiting for a sign. I'm done waiting for you.

Infact, why the fuck am I even typing this out. I'd rather write a note for my dead soulmate who'll at least acknowledge my presence. You're not even a man. You're just an infant who threw away the best he could have imagined, the one who threw away the best he could have got.

Sincerely, without any love
S.

For What?

That harmless interest in a beautiful girl,

claiming poems and paintings that are not yours as your own,

that phone-call to someone else at 3am when you could just be,

the nips and the tucks.

The lies and the deceit.

For what?

I am arrogant, I am obstinate, I am heartless.

But I'm not a liar, my emotions are not counterfeit like yours.

I mean it when I say that I love you.

You don't.

You break my heart.

For what?

He protects me all the time,

He protects me from myself.

His heart breaks to see me so broken.

And no matter how hard I try,

I cannot seem to love him like I loved you.

I feel rage, so much rage for not being able to love him back.

Everything would be so simple if I loved him and not you.

He coaxes me out of my depression.

You abandon me like everybody else.

A trophy girlfriend on your mantlepiece

Nothing more, never could have been.

If it were up to you, you'd lock me in a cage

As you went hunting for new meat everyday.

And I'd probably wait for you to love me one day.

But my wait would only be in vain.

I am now the victim of the cruel game you played.

I'm damaged beyond repair.

You shamed me, you degraded me.

You broke me down.

But for what?

Can you ever erase me from your head?

Even if you do, can you ever live in peace knowing you did what you did?

Or are you going to let some girl suck your dick and your sorrows away?

Is that how you play your game?

Running away when you're defeated.

Running far, far away.

You could have been happy.

You could have with me.

I would have tried my best to satisfy you

Maybe I'd even be successful in taming your roving eye someday.

But you threw it all away.

For what? 

Rain Fell Down

I was walking down the road with a friend, smoking a joint when a cute little thing wagging its tail came to me running, begging me to stroke it. "How did the dog understand that you'd pet it?" My friend was amused. You see animals, especially dogs, can sense love based off the vibes that people or other animals around them give.
We are the only creatures who need to verbally tell one another that we love each other, that we'd die for each other. Our love is an elaborate lie. It is to camouflage sex. That's all that there is to it.

Sometimes men use love to get sex and women use sex to get love. But where do I stand on this? I crave for intimacy, but never love because it is so painful and it always ends badly.

Love can be what a parent feels for their child perhaps? My father came back home after years and having him around changes the energy of the house. I'm starting to understand that a child needs both feminine as well as masculine energy around them as they grow up, a disbalance causes improper emotional development-much like my case.

Love can also be a simple text message from your best friend checking up on you from time to time, to see that you have not killed yourself it. It is that feeling when someone won't judge you and will always want the best for you, who you can be your true self with.
My college experience wasn't typical because I was out playing gigs and consequently skipping class. It was in the second year that I connected with M, my soul sister. We had the same affection for the villains of history and were equally compassionate about picking out the faults of our education system. We took a trip to Shantiniketan, the 4 musketeers, and it was during that trip that I realised what a beautiful phase my college-life was. The year after, after the end of our third and final year, we took a trip to the sea. On the last day of our vacation, the four of us sat on the beach soaked in water and just stared into the vastness that was the sea. None of us spoke a word and yet it was such a beautiful moment. It was at that moment when I knew I loved M and our friendship and I would never let go, no matter what.
Since the end of college, we've tried our best to stay in touch. The strange thing about love is that you don't have to constantly talk to the person or meet the person you care about. We meet everytime we are in the same city and even though there are long periods of not being in touch, I feel completely at ease with her when we are together. What is love but a deep-rooted friendship? It is the sense of trust, the comfort in knowing that you can bare your heart to someone and they'll not break it.


I was stoned and walking around town yesterday and it felt like it was going to rain. It did. All night long. It was poetic, beautiful.
As the first drops of rain touched the parched ground, I realised that I was surrounded by love in all shapes and forms. I wanted a sign and the universe had finally given me one.
A broken heart mends eventually, all it takes is a little bit of time...

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.

Dawn breaks, 

another day,

hope leaves this body,

cell by cell.

Today I am 50 percent melancholic

and 50 percent sure that I want to kill myself.

Tomorrow, the equation might change.

I'm a coward who puts on a brave face.

That's what I am.

I don't have the courage to die today.

But tomorrow might be a different day.

The equation might change.

I've been missing.

I've been missing.

I'm a 100 percent sure that nobody's looking for me.

But what they don't know is that the disappearing act is for real this time.

It was never meant to be.

I was never meant to exist.

A worthless, mediocre life that ultimately amounted to nothing.

But tomorrow will be a different day.

Tomorrow I will be gone. 

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.

Consensual

what causes one to be cruel, so cruel?
what makes one act like a savage, a beast?
centuries of evolution and yet you cannot think beyond yourself.
living in perpetual gloom.
and memories of days bygone.

I open my eyes and I'm a nymph at 12. I figure I'm Lolita, I can handle it all. But I'm not Lolita. I don't know what a man's genitals look like.
"Touch it", he places my hand over his dick.
It looks like a worm, a snake, a deformity.
I can see it grow slowly and steadily.
I am scared. It intimidates me.
He places his dick in my mouth. It tastes sour, like death. My death.

I'm in my training bra, didn't anticipate we'd come this far. All I wanted was a kiss, nothing more. I didn't know there was a world beyond a kiss. He squeezes my nipples, for I do not have a breast he can hold on to. It feels strange to let someone see me naked for the first time.
I'm embarrassed of the hair around my vagina.
I'm embarrassed and petrified as he slides his fingers around and then into it.
It hurts.
It hurts a lot more than I can imagine.
Just one finger.


Is this what adults do for recreation?
Is this what grownups always fantasize about?

I see him looking at me as he makes me suck his dick.
I understand that he feels a great deal of pleasure.
I am sexslave. I'm his sexslave for the evening.

"Are you scared?" "No"
I lie. I'm not a convincing liar but he needs to hear what he wants to hear.

It is the month of December but somehow I do not feel cold. Only scared. Broken.

How did I get to this part of my nightmare?
He was stronger than I imagined.
I had nothing on but a pair of earrings.
He was dressed, except for the dick sticking out of his pants.
(Or did he take his shirt off? I can't quite remember)

Degradation.
Humiliation.
But a severe breach of trust, more than anything else.

I lay there like a nymphsexdoll. He couldn't get his dick to go into my vagina on the first try. He told me that it would hurt and reassured me that "I" would feel good. I did not believe him, not a word he said. But I was too lost to respond, let alone fight back.

I shut my eyes and felt pain. Nothing but pain.
It was nothing like I had imagined it to be.
He grunted and pushed hard and I prayed for the ordeal to end.
I wouldn't let him see me cry.
I wouldn't give him the pleasure.

It's been over a decade since the incident. I've been called a "sex goddess" by a few men I have slept with. I have seen the pleasure in their eyes as they orgasm. Sex with me is a high, I've been told. But nobody knows that they're fucking a dead person.
I die the moment they enter me. Nobody has been able to make me feel alive.

What's the best sex I've had so far in life?
I haven't had any good sex.
Nobody has loved me the way I deserve to be loved.
I have merely given my body to those seeking pleasure.

I'm quite mad.
But that's okay, I like to believe that I'm saving myself for the right person when they come along.

Even More Resolutions

6. STOP READING THE DAMN TABLOIDS.
I have been reading the newspaper religiously for every day since class V and it's time that I stopped reading the supplementaries on entertainment that come with it instead of reading them after I've read the main paper. I can do without learning about random garbage at the start of my day. Also, Calcutta has some really ugly people who seem to feature almost every goddamn day, I could definitely do without my morning sickness that their dumbandovermadeup faces induce.

7.  EXERCISE!!!
My greatest fear is to wake up one day realising that I have a paunch and that it makes my navel piercing look like that of a cheap hooker's.

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.

Prjkt X

My folks leave for a vacation tomorrow and I'm looking forward to having the house to myself, not because I can party and let people trash my place but because I can finally write write write and write some more.
I'm falling into the stereotype of those who drink to make themselves not think about all the heartache. Is it healthy? Ofcourse not! But what choice do I have?
Also, alcohol is better than relapsing and starting to do dendrite like a juvenile delinquent. Sometimes you know that some things are really bad for you and yet you just can't stop doing it. I want to be 13 again, still fresh from the wounds of the rape. I don't know why but I do. Maybe because I used to think that from that point on I thought that my life wouldn't be sad anymore, the worst was over. But growing up makes you realise that life is just sad, it is always sad. I may not have been raped again since but people have kept breaking me down, the cycle never ends. I may have stopped doing dendrite but the trips are always the same. Everything is a loop.

My resolution for this year is to definitely stay away from drugs and not abuse them. After my last acid trip last year, I realised that drugs only work for me when I'm alone or with someone I can shed all my inhibitions with and since there is no latter in my life at the moment, I'll have to take extremely good care of myself, nobody's going to do it for me.

Real life is not a fairytale. I am not a princess and there is no prince who will come and rescue me. Miracles are not real, only tragedies are. But it's okay, I'm starting to master the art of getting by.


I need to do so many things.
But there's so little time.
Let me waste one precious second
Trying to make this fucking rhyme.

Attention Seeking Bitch

Sometimes you need to feel good about yourself, you just do. Especially if you're a girl who's been battling depression and eternal melancholy. I always thought of myself as antisocial and largely unwanted, but being single for the first time in a long time has made me realise a lot of good and bad things about myself.
I used to always think of myself as vermin in social situations-ugly, unwanted and unnecessary. I guess it's hard to come to terms with someone ignoring you and looking for greener pastures when they tell you that they "love" you, but with time I'm realising that this is not true. Atleast not for me. There are people who would be perfectly happy to dedicate their entire evening for my company, even if there's no guaranteed sex afterwards.
It makes me feel good about myself somehow.
 I don't need to be all over a man just to get his attention and neither do I need to make someone feel inferior about himself. I can be me and people will like me for just that.
It feels strangely liberating to be able to be who you are and still be wanted by men who will find you beautiful and intelligent and sexy and all those things. It feels good to know that the problem does not lie with you, like you thought it did. You're not an inconsequential mass of nothingness. You're beautiful and you're special-any man who fails to see that and lets you go is daft and you should never waste your time running after them.

Thank you to the beautiful, extremely gorgeous guys I met tonight. Even though I"ll probably not see you all for a long time and even though I've never touched/been touched by any of you...thank you for making my day, someone as incredibly ordinary as me. Thank you for making me realise that I am hot stuff indeed and any asshole who fails to understand and value that is losing out on the best they could have ever dreamt of.

Neglect

I've spent about 90 percent of my life so far being severely neglected emotionally. Let's face it, I've never been anyone's priority. I've realised that no one will come around and fix that for me, it's probably how I'll live out the rest of my life. It hurts to toughen up, but I'm trying quite hard.


I've always found myself alone during especially tough times, but I've lived through it all somehow. I don't understand why I still think, deep down, that there is someone who'll come and save me, someone who'll fix me. It's been 23 years and counting, I don't think my life will pan out that way. I need to stop getting my hopes up so high, it'll lessen the heartbreak.

My 2015 has been a wreck so far. I don't know why life's becoming so hard all of a sudden. I'm sinking deeper and deeper into this blackhole of complications and heartache. Every person gets one tragedy per life, I can't be the girl who gets raped, whose soulmate dies and also the one whose parent most probably has cancer.

I deserve a happy ending, I deserve love.
Too.

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.

Familiarity

Familiarity.
The taste of your mouth.
Your tongue.
And mine.

Stroking the beard on your chin.
My fingers trace its silhouettes.
Strange familiarity.

Wet and warm.
Reminded of how I feel inside.
Your hands.
Your lips.
Your ears.
Your teeth.
Your nose.
Your fingernails.
Your hair.
Your Adam's apple.
Your genitalia.
You.

Explosions in the form of orgasms.
I explode.
No one seems to do it like you do.
Surreal.

But I no longer crave for your love.
I enjoy the pain in the form of fornication.

Don't love me, have sex with me.

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.