We Expect Our Friends To Be Our Family And Our Family To Be Our Friends. In All This Confusion, We Fail

We are mosaics --

pieces of light,

love,

history,

stars--

Glued together

with

magic

and music

and words.

- Anita Krizzan

yes.yes.yes... maybe those who suffer because of their less desirable faces are the ones who build their minds in the most beautiful ways...Adversity is the mother of Beauty

“It’s rare to meet someone with a mind just as beautiful as their face.”

— Unknown (via thoughtkick)

sometimes, you NEED to feel better, you NEED to be happier. Why?

for the sake of this world.

To appreciate the humanity that still remains. To look at the sunrise and sunset.

To tell your mom you love her, to tell your dad you love him. To, for once, tell your sibling that they are precious. to hate them again after.

To pet your dog or cat or hamster or horse or pig or any specie and let them know that their little lives mean bigger to you than anything.

To plant a tree and see it grow and fruit under your care.

To see green. and blue, and yellow, and red and f**king every colour we cant imagine.

To listen to people talking and living and find someone to talk and live with.

To love, to eat, to sleep, to repeat.

To leave a legacy as a human no one else is

To appreciate the fact that you, who had 1 in a billion chance to be formed inside your lifegiver, lived on and did what we call thriving, on this planet of fascinations.

for the sake of yourself and the life you lived and the space-time you travelled.... sometimes, you NEED to live, in order to live....

-mauli

This is a piece I wrote in Dec.2019, and means a lot to me, when a girl named Priyanka Reddy was raped and brutally murdered in Hyderabad and it shook the whole nation, once again.

may be triggering to some

Today I cry,

tomorrow I'll weep,

for someone is always left to cry

in the world I sleep.

Someone is raped, someone is murdered.

It's shame , it shakes .

When someone already is curdled,

is when people wake.

Some blame them, some blame us.

But who's to say

that it falls on all of us ,

the blame, to raise the greys.

So, today I cry ,

for the sake that's deep.

Frightened by this hell ,I am,

a girl, in the world they sleep.

-mauli

"He's a book that doesnt find itself in the front showcase of the bookstore, not in the popular aisles, no. It's the one you'll stumble upon when least expected, it lurks in the corners which the common reader seldom visits. Or it might tumble on you when you're not looking, catching you by your breathe, making you fall hard, making you fall fast.

But when it's is finally found, I stop my brain before it's filled with thoughts on the cover, for a good book can't be judged that way, it's common knowledge. 

I run my fingers through unintended pages , reading the random excerpts word by word. Page by page, phrase by phrase, the book makes me want to stay. It makes me want to read it patiently, not possibly all at once, for its just not possible. It's pages over pages of just art, waiting in the dark to be perceived.

It takes away your breath with each sentence, compelling you to comprehend the obvious beauty and beyond all, the meaning, the purpose and the pain.

Even if one manages to reach the last word, he's the book that would never suffices you in just one reading. So, I read it over and over and over again, never having enough. The simple complexities, the rhymes and rythmes, the perfect  imperfections , the utter beauty and the guarded mysteries that leave me hanging each time, wanting more.

In quest of learning all of him, one can live a life, content, forever; for one will be loving the outcast charm that's this book, forever."

-mauli

The Clock

The clock ticks,

ticks to leave us all behind.

Behind in past

where we thought of future,

but where are we now?

Oh! I wonder...

Somewhere in between

'should' and 'would' we live,

live, but don't give

enough to the clock that ticks

today, to give us life.

Days turn into weeks turn into months turn into years Time flies by in a blink of eye So many things we wanted So many thing we tried So many things we got So many tears dried. In our race against time We live, we loath , we cry Till the time comes, one day we realise In the wait of death, the end of our time, we rushed everything. We rushed life, and forgot to live and passed our precoius time by

-mauli ♡

Weirdly enough, this is one of my comfort songs.

(turn the music on before reading, you'll get me better)

I listen to it as i imagine him singing it to me.

Holding me carefully, not too little or i might fall apart, not too much or i might break. We sway slowly side to side, in each other's arms, just for a moment passing by, as i shed all my unseen tears. I imagine that he cares, he cares that he never cared for me like i did for him. I imagine him singing this to my poor soul, telling me that he'd only make me cry, because it would make more sense than my idea of "us". We sway with the wind brushing our sorrows away, somehow my sorrow held onto my heart for him and took it away as well. So as long as this song fills the room, we're the only two that exist, only two that matter. And as long as this plays, it matters to him that i never mattered to him as he did to me. He knows, he shows, he sees, he's sorry.

But the song ends, and so does this pitiful fantasy. Reality comes rushing in...

I had him on my mind , ingrained in my brain. I made playlists for him in hopes the melodies might convey a fraction of my affection. I saved posts that i would send him if he was ever mine. I wrote him poems, which were some of my best works. I had a whole digital diary of him, secret albums of pictures of him, especially of ones which i took, if he could see himself through my eyes, him smiling wide with glistening eyes, maybe he would also want to capture and safeguard every nuisance of his beauty; and also, there is that folder of pictures my friends took of us together in one frame, accidentally of course.

I thought of being near him all the time, i thought of his wellbeing, i wished for him to know how perfect he was. Is. And he doesn't know any of this. I had him written all over my life for about an year, and he will have no idea how deep it goes.

He never led me on, he never did anything that would "make" me feel something about him nor did he drop hints that he felt something, he didn't have to, i guess, because i was never delusional, just utterly smitten...

(but then, what business did those eyes have, meeting mine??)

One day, i gave in to this agony and said to him that i liked him, and he said it was ok, i was his friend, this won't change anything. He was the nicest about it. But I still wonder, what if I would have said so much more, only if he could hear so much more... if he could, I'd tell him,

how like is something i did to a stranger at the airport who i talked to for a few minutes,

how like doesn't do justice to the gravity with which i was falling,

how like is what my mouth says, while my heart goes on to describe his beautiful piscine eyes, as the deepest ocean I'd drown in,

how like is what i wished it was, because it wasn't love of course, something less, something very one sided, but something so true.

If only i could tell him, i missed him when he was out of sight or even when he was right in front of my eyes, i fell for his laugh and his smile and his eyes and his lips and his hair and his hands and how he treated everyone respectfully, and his brain, and how he was so in love with his family, and how he was just a beautiful human being...

If i told him, i felt the familiarity of falling the first day i met him, if i told him i never wanted to be just friends, if i told him i would cherish him in every way he deserves...

Would it have made a difference? Would our story have a different ending?

I like to think

no.

I still don't know how to be that for someone else what he was to me.

Was? .... Is?....

no.

For the sake of my damn heart and the amount of love overflowing from it, it should not be an "is".

Was.

"Was" is where it should belong.

So I'll listen to "cry" again and imagine him singing again as we sway back and forth and I'll imagine i cry my unseen tears and pretend that

this is what my closure is.

My 1st confession-blr, just some stuff I have been going through that might be relatable, to I guess someone.

(No self hate, just some thinking out loud and blabber,ig)

Stuff's pretty miserable. I don't feel good. I don't even know how I feel, I guess its loneliness even though I do have lovely people around...I literally don't know...

Started to feel like there is something wrong w/ me. My circle is not one which resonates with me, I still love them but no one is ever "just there for me". 17 ,and still don't have a "bff" other than my sister and mother. My cousins aren't a fan of me either, have one who is my same age but still matches "vibes" with my younger sister. We were great 2 yrs ago but...

I try so hard to be nice to people, yet I see people effortlessly happy, I wonder why I make any extra effort, no one has to, they get on fine without thinking much. Sometimes I feel sick of feeling so much and not being able to cry.

Things which give me happiness like writing or reading novels or photography or nerding out on cosmology etc., I can't do any of it without being guilt stricken every singe minute. Even as I write this I realize I need to complete my Chemistry notes and physics assignments and practice math, afterall its 12th grade, the LIFE DECIDING YEAR... but I seem to do neither hard work for 12th marks nor extra stuff I like.

Sometimes, when I like ,sit down to think, I feel like I'm a no-one sitting in middle of nowhere , meaning nothing to anyone except my family and teachers. I AM REPLACEABLE. The worst thought... I am not an indispensable part of anyone's life other than my family (which is obvious I guess + cuz they are lovely coping up with me)...

No, I don't hate myself. I love myself. I just am at a phase where nothing is moving...All still...and in that stillness, I feel... not very happy.

I wished so much after I came out of 10th, but my life has been nothing but monotonous...

The people I thought were a gift to me, turns out I don't matter that much to them, and I feel guilty of expecting too much. Still, I wonder, is it too much to expect some kind of care or support from people who claim to be yours? Maybe, it is.

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