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The Nerdish Khaleesi.

“A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.”

When you hit a slumber

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It’s been a while since I wrote, and frankly I really don’t know what motivated me to get my lazy ass up and hit something up now. When you hit a slump, you freak out in the beginning. Little do you know then that you’ll get used to not being able to read or write the way you used to before. You put “how to beat reading/writing blocks” in the search bar, and you are motivated to follow the tips written by fellow members of the literary world. You read the stuff on those blogs, you do everything you can, but the bad spell does not pass. You’re stuck with a block, you can no longer read a book in a matter of few hours or write anything you want to. Before you know it, you have lost motivation, you’ve lost inspiration. You turn to doing different things, and it slowly gets out of your daily routine.

I know how looking at others read makes you nostalgic. Looking at their expressions change as the plot moves ahead makes you miss the way you could go on reading the entire day but now can barely move past a page in the time you used to finish a chapter. Your ‘to read’ list keeps getting longer, you go to a bookstore and start feeling that you need to start catching up again. You carry books everywhere with you, but you just cannot get yourself to read them. You try reading your own work, but you are just not satisfied. You feel like there is something missing, and feel like you’re making things worse by trying to alter it. Discarding your own work feels like the only resort left, and you do so.

*sigh* *backspace* *sigh*

You’re slowly swirling into insanity, but fret not. One day, it will come to you all by itself. Someday after all this struggle between your mind and heart, you finally will find motivation to finish that manuscript or edit all your work, or heck, you will go back to completing a thick six hundred page book in a single day. Motivation will finally find you, and you’ll probably end up writing about the slump like I am right now. Till then, keep looking for motivation.

 

PS: You can find inspiration anywhere, even in the most random things, but I’m guessing you already read that, didn’t you?

 

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The Whimsical Paradox

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You, yes you. You, the one reading this on your desktop or on your mobile, with your eyes glued to the screen and stumbling across my work by sheer coincidence. Stop. Stop whatever you’re doing. Stop whatever you’re currently doing and think about your life. Maybe that’s what you were already doing this late at night, but think about it once. Your life.

A whimsical paradox, is what I want you to think of when you think about your life. You’re staying up this late, doing nothing but scrolling down on feeds and seeing things which either affect you or don’t. You’re tired of the shit you have to deal with every day, you’re so tired both physically and mentally that all you want to do is sleep. You get back home after a long day and feel yourself sinking into the soft mattress, you close your eyes, and you realise that you just can’t shut them. You realise that you’re sleepless, even when you’re dead tired. You shift left and right on the bed, you turn around, twist around, try to keep your eyes shut and sleep. But you don’t. You feel this emptiness inside you, a certain hollowness that just won’t go. You take a deep breath, lie down and stare into nothing and think. Think or overthink, that’s up to you. All I know is that you think about something, or rather someone. You want to sleep, but you can’t. You’re probably thinking about someone you really like or love. You’re reading this line right now, your eyes glues to the screen, and your mind is showing you a picture of your loved one. You keep thinking about them all the time. A major crush, a minor liking, true love, whatever it is, you want to tell them. You think of telling them, you imagine yourself telling them, but you don’t do it. You want them to know, but you don’t tell them. You miss someone’s presence, you feel lonely, but you don’t talk to them. Whatsoever the reason behind your sleeplessness is, you’re sick of it, and yet you do nothing about it. You plan to do things, you think of doing stuff, but in the end you don’t. Even if you did tell them about how you felt, maybe things did not go the way you thought they would, and perhaps that’s one reason that’s keeping you up till now. Your expectations did not match with the reality, and you’re upset.

You’re still reading this, expecting this to go somewhere. It won’t. Just like life, I’ll end this abruptly. Go sleep. Stop thinking, and go ahead and enjoy the whimsical paradox your life is.

Anemoia.

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I miss us. There’s a shitload of stuff I miss, but it’s different with you. I miss you. I miss the way you held my hand as we walked, or held me in your arms in the middle of long, late night walks and took me by surprise. I miss the way you made mundane things look cute. I miss the way we spent the entire day decorating our place with all the stuff I brought with me when I moved in. I miss the way we fought for the mirror when we had to dress up and were horribly late, pushing each other out of the way. I miss the pouty face you made when I said no for something. I miss the fun we had while shopping at the store. Mundane, ordinary things like these don’t feel so mundane anymore. I miss the way we would take a break from our hectic lives and have lazy Sundays with Chinese takeaway, and that’s not all. I am crazily, madly, stupidly in love with you. All I want to do is time travel and end up spending more time with you.

There’s this nostalgia that follows me everywhere I go, but here’s the thing. All of this, all of the stuff I miss, never really happened. Even though we never really lived together, I miss what all could have happened if we did. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making me miss all this, but maybe I’ve finally realized what anemoia really means.

Anemoia: (n) nostalgia for a time you’ve never known.

The Evening Skies.

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Let’s just stay together,

hand in hand.

Let’s not go too far,

Just stay here and stop the car.

I feel a bit cold,

But the view out of the window?

That’s worth all the gold,

You and I may own.

Why do you want to waste your money,

On an expensive restaurant?

Or a date to the movies?

Let’s just stay here,

And look at the view out there.

This is amazing,

And you get to watch it,

Only if you get up,

From the TV show binge.

Take a mat,

And also some food,

Because this is the best way to spend time,

And there’s no deny to that.

You and I,

Let’s go to the mountain top,

And look at the beautiful sky.

It’s an evening sky,

Which looks like a huge sheet,

And the stars as tiny dots on it.

This may sound cliché,

But all I want is this babe.

Let’s gaze at the evening skies,
And hope that the night passes by.

The Grim Reaper.

As soon as people hear my name, the first thing they can think of is a cold, dark surrounding which can creep anyone out. I’m something or someone people cannot avoid even if they try to.

I’m inevitable, and come early into some people’s lives, sometimes I come a bit late.

Sometimes people can predict whether I’m near or not, sometimes they cannot. I arrive at my own will and wish, and never leave empty handed.

I’m generally associated with misery and sorrows. Some say I take away the old things, and because of that the new things come in this world.

People can not really see me, but can feel me. I’m like an abstract noun, which cannot be seen but can only be felt.

When I’m near, people sense it automatically. All I have to do is go near them, and they’re automatically lured towards me.

I’m ubiquitous, or omnipresent. I meet many, many people everyday, and they accompany me to the end of their journey, only to start a new one.

I don’t understand one thing about people. They rejoice when something new comes, yet they cry when someone accompanies me, ready to start a new journey. People shed tears of joy on their birthdays, but shed tears of sorrow when someone is on their deathbed, ready to embark on a new journey and start everything from scratch.

If it’s your death day, remember, it’s also your birthday because you start a new journey, though with a different body and a different spirit.

Some people whole heartedly accompany me, whereas some don’t. The latter type is the side which doesn’t understand that this is all a cycle which keeps going on.

To keep a balance, we need to keep moving on forward, the same way we do on a bicycle. Survive the day, keep your head up, prepare for the next challenge up there.

I walked down the small mud road amidst the trees shedding their leaves in the autumn season, and saw a beautiful flower wrinkle as I passed by it.

They say that I just take souls and dry the bodies, but little do they know that I’m the one who can give what I’ve taken back as well.

I waved my hand over the wrinkled flower, and gave back it’s beauty back to the nature.

People associate me with death, and say I’m death.

No.
I’m the Grim Reaper, and I’m not the one you think I am.

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Even a monster can fall for the prettiest flower in the garden, or fall in love with the beautiful blue sky in the daytime, or fall for anything or anyone.

A Blank Sheet.

My head constantly messed up with me,

And came out,

some poems,

Some stories,

From this thing in my head.

My head hurts right now

From all this madness,

And I sit in front of a table,

With my diary opened,

Fiddling with the pen in my hand,

I’m scratching my head,

Tugging at my hair,

And nothing just comes out of my head.

It is frustrating,

It kills me,

What goes in my head,

Is  frustrating enough already.

I keep fiddling around,

And I’m sorry,

to all those whom I promised to update today,

I’m sitting in front of a blank sheet.

The blank sheet calls me out,

It wants me to fill it with words and endless emotions,

But I’m sorry,

I’m sitting in front of a blank sheet.

INSECURE

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INSECURE

Yes, I’m insecure about my body and my sexuality.

Yes, I have some curves and some affection towards the same sex.

I maybe just a young girl of fifteen from a small town in this huge huge world,

but what I think and what I do is none of your concern,

and neither you can stop me from thinking or doing whatever I want to.

It’s my business and not yours.

Yes, I feel depressed at times,

and yes, I also am tensed about my future.

I also feel a bit guilty while eating a lot in public,

and also feel a bit sad when someone calls me fat.

Just because I am insecure about my body and my mind,

it not at all means that you make fun of me and mock me.

Just because I laugh about my insecurities along with you,

doesn’t mean I don’t care about it.

You mind your own business, I’ll mind mine, and it’s a win win situation for both of us.

Keep your stupid mouth shut,

and your useless opinion on my weight and situation can stay in your mind.

NOBODY CARES.

Doesn’t that hit you when you smack me with your words and humiliate me in public?

Do you know my story?

I maybe fat, but hey! At least I got a big heart?

Doesn’t the thing that beats inside you matter?

Aren’t you one of those who shares those stupid quotes like ‘the outside of a person doesn’t matter, what’s inside does’ ?

Then why such a double standard?

Don’t you think I’ve tried?

Don’t you think I do care?

Don’t you ever think I am INSECURE about myself the same way you are? 💔

Had I Forgot Something?

I was walking on the side way,

And for some reason,

a small group of children,

playing and laughing heartily,

grabbed my attention.

The small children grabbed my attention so bad,

I stood still,

in the cold cold wind,

looking at the kids play,

and forget about everything.

For a while I forgot,

that I had to go home,

but I couldn’t help but stare,

stare at the beautiful creations of God,

playing their heart out in the park.

Look towards the ground,

would you see some child,

worried or tensed,

about their homework and other stuff they had to do?

Children are the ones,

who have always been so enthusiastic,

Children are the ones,

who have always been so energetic.

What happened to us,

when we grew up?

Looking at the children triggered some thoughts,

Had I really forgot something?

Why was I this way now?

Was it just growing up,

or did I really forget to live?

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