Faith.

Doors closed from behind that never tend to open..

The doors behind whom is the person with the keys

Those doors....

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

Rather you promised me keys to eternal you

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

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

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

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

And turned cynical towards all.

I wish I had known you before.

Before all of this could have happened..

- Razia

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

Open ended…

(Please finish my poem!)

There are days…

That turn into weeks…

These months that have become years…

How long have I been waiting for an answer…

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

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

A tid bit of knowledge used to express an emotion…

This feeling we’ve all been looking for…

An answer behind closed doors…

-c.S.

By: ArgumentsFromWithin

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

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

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

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

.

Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

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

.

Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

.

Why is your time not at their time stamp?

.

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

In our journey towards ease.

.

Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

.

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

.

Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

.

Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

.

Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

.

Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

.

You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

.

You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

.

It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

.

Let's put up a brave face is it?

I am doing it again

I thought I was done with it. With this so called "Love". I believed that what I expect of love will never be given to me. I was sure it was all over. 

But here I am sitting on my desk, gazing at my desktop screen, reading all those wonderful texts he sent me. Those lines of poetry that I had always wanted to hear. His words are the petals of the rose named love. But I fear that  the thrones of the rose will prick me in no time.

Maybe  this insecurity of mine is pointless, maybe even meaningless. That's what he told me too......

Maybe I am just fearing a bit too much. Maybe I am thinking too much. maybe........

I hope its just all in my head. And this time maybe it will work out. maybe my insecurity will just be done. he may be different from the rest. I now he is. the better different I hope

Family is not just mom and dad

It's the one who love you

And I've seen mine in you

I know I'm an idiot

I ruin things that are great in life

And later mourn about it

I realise late that I've damaged

What we had

And this time I guess it's beyond repair

For the first time I wish

I had an undo button for life

Coz' I have never mourned over anything

Like this before

I have had fights with you before

But believed it will all be fine

But I guess I lost you this time

Once and for all...

Bon Appétit

I haven't tumbled here in a while. I haven't written a story in a while. Not only that, but I look at old poems and think of storing them somewhere. I look at the ways in which I have narrated stories and I save them to watch later. I look at the scribblings at the back of my notebook, but before I could finish reading them, the to-do list from the front pages start haunting me. Furthermore, I open my laptop to look for some inspiration to write, you see I haven't written in a while. But then I lose the confidence to write. The “Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka ju nu” notes my roommate sings for the kids of her classical dance class rings in my head as I try to find a subject to write about. The tabs open in my laptop reminds me of the work I have to finish before the dawn of tomorrow, because Human Resources has asked me to finish tasks and have a new reporting format. But then I want to write. I want to write the same way Julia cooks in the film Julie and Julia; or is it Julia and Julie. It's my favourite film, and yet I keep forgetting the name.

I try to play a film in the background, some music that plays through my phone, Excel sheets and presentation decks, phone calls and emails. I'm multitasking, I tell myself. I've been multitasking for so many years, that somewhere I forgot how to perform just one task at a time.

I'm making tea and there's an episode of some random show playing in the background. I'm doing the laundry and there is music playing from my room. I'm bathing and in-between shampoo getting into my eyes and trying to balance on one foot I hear Sheldon Cooper explaining the theory of asymmetry.

I'm also a mental health professional, while I keep telling my clients to not google their symptoms, I struggle to restrain myself from self diagnosing.

The phone chimes and I know it's my best friend from miles away telling me her day went equally bad and at the end of the day we'll video call each other just to say “Life sucks (Exclamation point)”

I know I'm deviating from what I started writing about, I have no idea what I'm writing about. I think of sending the link to my partner once I finish posting this, but then there is a voice in the corner of my head that says I'll not post this, that I'll do Ctrl+A and click delete.

I know I shouldn't. It's after ages I decide to write, why shouldn't the world see it. At this point, you would be wondering why did I break into a new paragraph, do I have something to say? Am I changing the subject? Maybe yes. Because as I write this, I think of the first post I made somewhere in October 2017, and I can see the spelling and grammatical errors on that post. Not saying there aren't any now. By this time, all the above paragraphs have 5+ errors. The multiple grammar tools on my windows have come up, shooting red lines on the error. I ignore it for now. I can proofread much later.

So, what am I writing? I'm writing about not writing. I'm writing about having hated the urge to get my writing validated from strangers online, who have now become acquaintances. I'm writing about how my Instagram page is now non-existent and my Tumblr page had long died. But I will still shout to the world and tell them that I have gone back to writing, that I will write on a random day after a random period of time.

Adiós reader!

he thinks he gave me scars,

scratched the old ones.

he has not given me tears, because all he has given me is  happiness beyond words

the intensity of your love is what brings me closer to you, closer to your love and beyond all to life

I know I cried. I know I should not have. 

but that’s what i am. 

tears are my mates and sadness my pal. 

you have not brought them to me, they stayed from before.

I am healed not from what happened today, but I am healed from my old scars, not by time but by your love.

so my love, don’t take the blame, take credit for bringing me back to life,

coz, i owe this to you and your love

The window

If only you could open doors that would change things,

Sometimes like how you think of running far away to those places you never know of

Those meadows and sunsets you have written about, you've read about, you've thought about.

I don't know about you, but I have.

I have wanted to open that window to the perfect home I've imagined.

To that home, where amma and appa had figured out things

Where my older brother wasn't threatened by my birth

Where I wasn't threatened by that hand that made me uncomfortable.

Where my screams would be heard through the window.

Where when I cried, I had a hand to hold on to.

Where I did not run away from, I did not ignore calls, where my memories of childhood were not fights and hatred.

That window which did not show me trying to kill myself

I dream of building that home, where I am safe, I am heard and I am wanted. But now when I do, I feel like I'm caged inside the cocoon that I have build shooing away people. While then it was being in a house that wasn't my home and now a home that feels like a house.

Sometimes, someday I will open that window where I will have a painting hung on the wall of a meadow, a framed picture of people on my bedside table, and my bookshelves across the bed. Someday it will contain a hand that will embrace me and a shoulder to lean on to.

Image from: Razia @a-small-startup

Half hidden, half in the light. My tangled legs wanna leave all this behind and run.

Run towards the light. Towards the peace towards serenity.

But my legs are struck,

they're bound to stay,

no one has locked me in,

but my legs are pulled back

and they are asked to stay.

They are told to finish what I'm doing.

Half in the darkness and half in light, my legs want to run towards the ocean.

With mountains climbed

Stars gazed at.

It's been a beautiful week of all my life.

With friends made, and friendships bonded

I don't know how life could change.

People talked, laughed, had a merry go ride.

This has been where relationships redefined

New ones made

Judgements broken and new ones made.

Love to all the people and all the memories.

To the good and bad triping

Love.

I really dont believe in it anymore.

There was a time when I truly did...

I had thought that....

The butterflies I got in my stomach thinking about him

Me skipping a beat when I hear his voice

His one touch making me go numb

That one kiss that mesmerized me

I thought all that was love.

So wrong was I.

You truly do love the person

But for that person to love you back

With the same compassion, the same intensity

You got to be lucky for that

Bloddy damn lucky

My love is long lost in the midst of all those I gave it to.

I dont hope to get it back now from anyone anymore.

Coz in this world of mystery love remains solved to me

In a way I never hoped it to be

I wish I had known it all beforehand

I would not have loved

Atleast not the wrong person...