How pathetic was I to still carry the flames of hope in my heart.

Ever-growing flames which are burning the insides of my body.

I am too avoidant for someone who craves for someone special as a child would for her favourite toy.

How do I actually express this?

It’s funny- I’ve never had any trouble telling people what I feel for them.

It’s funny because this time I realized the reality behind these illusions of dating and relationships is actually scary. Or maybe I am just scared of commitment-

No, I’m not, I would love to be committed to someone for the rest of my life.

Maybe I am just too avoidant- Yes, that I am.

I am avoidant even when I hopelessly await love.

An avoidant is someone who desires connection but fears actual intimacy.

I think I for one am not meant for anything too intimate, because I cannot think of enough reasons that someone would have to actually love me. I think I’m too noisy, too unpredictable, too chaotic, too annoying, too dependent and even too much of a pushover, which I think would piss off people after a while.

The “Why no one should actually love me” list could go on and on. But why did I suddenly realize all of this?

Why did it suddenly hit me that I am an avoidant?

Why did I suddenly get so scared of commitment, when I am internally screaming every time, I see two people holding hands deep in a lovely world of their own?

I do not know.

Maybe it is because when you started listing out what you saw in me, I got scared that you might be lying.

Maybe it is because when you were being so nice to me, I thought you were just putting on a performance.

Because no one has done that before, or even if they have done it, I never did feel what I felt while I was talking to you.

Yes, I had a panic attack once because of a slight interaction with someone, and to be honest that is now kind of embarrassing to think about, but I guess this just shows that I actually do everything very deeply and it kind of makes me vulnerable and pathetic, but also human.

If you’ve seen me around the people I’ve “liked”, you’d know that I do it extremely obsessively and devotionally.

Yes, I can see it now-

I have realized that I cannot do anything casually. I will give my all to anyone I get attached to and this is what truly scares me- the fact that if I actually go down that path again, I will have exhausted every ounce of devotion and love that I had harvested in the deepest fields of my heart. And that field will lie barren and no harvest can help me feed the relationship that is actually meant for me.

But after all this thought-processing and self-analysing, we talked.

And I didn’t say what I really badly wanted to because I was scared. But then you said something which made me realize that, I was doing to you what others had done to me and now I might lose you too, just because of my fear.

I think I will let things be as they are for now. It will be a long time before we talk again and I think time will show both of us what is actually in our hearts and, our futures.

“Is it better to speak or to die?”

My answer to that would always be “to speak- because even if nothing happens you will at least have said what you felt.”

But now, I would much rather die I think, because what if what you felt for me was nothing and it passes away like a cloud on a rainy day, heavy yes, and yes, it rained hard, but it passes anyway.

What if you realize that I am no one important and you regret telling me what you felt because you don’t feel that anymore?

And because I’ve already imagined the scenario where I finally muster up the courage to say something to you and you tell me that it was nothing, that it was just some stupid emotions making you feel that at that time, I will choose to stay and quiet.

“It’ll pass”

It is eating me alive. I pray you’re not struggling the way I am. I pray that it actually passes for you and you will tell me you don’t like me anymore so that I can finally tell myself “Yes, you were right, your overthinking was right”-

And I’ll do this every time love approaches me and slowly, I’ll start withering with the time and I will give in to the jaws of the Indian society and I will die.

Because I preferred death over speaking my heart.

I pray to the lord every night for my sorrows to keep.

I pray that the lord takes my desires for things that are not meant for me away.

I pray that the lord helps me survive this,

I pray that the Lord keeps you safe.

Will I ever be enough?

Will I ever overcome this constant fear,

This fear, of being loved but never really known?

What will become of this cover-

This cover, which I have so intricately woven,

In hopes that my scars would stay hidden forever

This cover, that somebody has now willingly chosen.

“Why?”, I asked, for I could not believe I had something worth loving in me

“What do you know about my woven skin?

What do you know about my heart which lies scattered in bits-

What do you know about this tongue of mine-

This tongue, that does not hesitate to spew poison all the damn time?”

My scars started burning, itching and bleeding, all over again

My heart was heavy, despite being empty

My mind started flooding with this sudden rain

Was this rain supposed to nurture me-

Or was it meant to let my soul drain?

For yes, even though I badly want to be loved,

To be admired, to be adored-

My heart refuses to accept any form of affection,

For it had never happened before, so I was prepared-

To be alone and to be lost.

And now, troubled, my heart weeps

“I could have all that I seek,

But what if my scars get exposed and my pathetic reality is seen-

What if their hearts develop hatred for me, within?”

And so I sit, waiting for this rain to stop, and I know it will stop-

For no rain lasts forever.

And when it does,

My heart will once more be the barren ground that it has always been,

A Land with no flowers, no grass and no streams-

A land where love will never be seen.

-del

Will I ever let someone read the poems written along the veins of my heart?

Or will I forever hide them due to the fear of not being what I always pretended to be?

When the flower stood drooping its heavy petals,

The petals were radiating the moonlight,

Hiding well, the binding shackles.

In a garden filled with others looking just the same, it stood.

In a garden filled with many,

It stood isolated and lonely.

Maybe the others felt the same in their own places—

After all, they are all the same with no physical differences.

But this flower had heavy petals

Heavy with a grief unknown to the rest

Was it the weight of all the riddles?

Riddles the flower had not solved yet?

Riddles that life threw at every flower in this garden.

Every flower with its petals,

Some radiating the life within

And some, in grief, were drowning.

But oh, so beautiful they look—

With the fading blue and a hint of purple

Oh, so beautiful, with the green bodice underneath—

This flower, never asking for much, was still hiding the fact that it was dying.

The soil nurtures it well, giving it just enough to live.

The wind brought music, and the sun would sing.

And yet, the flower died—

Hiding well the distress of its heart.

Smiling one last time,

To the moon and the stars in the night sky.

tried writing again.

Not really in the right mind to do so-

But I hope the words aren't too chaotic and they still speak.

I have dreamt of love, of peace

Of a cozy winter night's kiss.

I have dreamt of the unknown

Of the worst, of the horrors yet to be known.

I have dreamt of flowery fields

Of hope, of pain and of grief.

I have dreamt of all and everything

Of everything and all at once.

I dream of feeling the soil while being buried,

Of the wind beneath my wings as I fly,

I dream.

For everything beautiful,

Experienced by me

I realised, was just a dream.

Am I awake or am I asleep?

Will I ever live the reality,

Or just pass away with these dreams?

Will it hurt not to live or will I be glad just to dream?

Now I ask myself out of pure concern,

Am I a dreamer?

For I see no dreams now, but the darkness ahead.

Where will I head to, where will I reach?

It's just another dead end.

Now for me,

as if in a dream,

I am pretending to be,

just another Dreamer as I once used to be.

I wrote this a while ago and I realised I keep going back to read it over and over. Maybe it is because, that was the last time I wrote something from my heart or maybe because I am still wondering whether the dreamer is alive or burried under the blankets of reality.

Thought it was good enough to post and also that maybe once I'm done with these exhausting tests, I will start dreaming again.

For now I crave for those dreams more than ever before,

and more than ever before is my need to be heard and loved.

But the latter seems like a far fetched dream,

and hence writing is the only way to satisfy what I need.

~del

There's mention of sh, depression and suicidal thoughts, followed by a promise-

and I am posting this only because I want this story to be out, and no longer keep it a secret. I do not know if it is good or bad, but I know it is true and it is important for me to put it out. I don't know why, but this needs to go, only then will I be relieved.

6 years ago, she locked herself in a bathroom, eyes puffy, tears rushing down her cheek and a blade in her hand.

6 years ago, she was ready to not have another day in her life.

6 years ago, she thought she'd take her own life and it would be good for everyone around her.

6 years ago, in that bathroom she closed her eyes one last time-

“Lord, I'm not good enough, I'm sorry.”, she whispered to herself and-

“CHECHI, BHOOK LAGI HAI.”

(I'M HUNGRYYY)

Shouted her brother from outside.

And she opened her eyes, dropped the blade and replied back “I'm coming”, and she stood there for minute.

What will he go through if I do this?

What will he thinks of his older sister,

how will he survive without me?

What will he tell our parents?

What will mom and dad tell him?

She washed her face, wiped it, put the blade back and came out of the bathroom. And then she cooked rice for her brother. That little boy, who unknowingly saved his sister's life.

They sat and had lunch together.

When their parents came back from work, they brought sweets for them and they all had it together while they shared how their days went.

She was quiet but her brother did most of the talking for her.

She spent that afternoon very normally with them.

Later she played with her brother for a while, while he wondered why she was suddenly being so good to him.

In the evening she sat in her room, by the window which looked out to their balcony and the old tree with the squirrels, which no longer stands there, and she wrote poems.

That was when she became a poet. That was when she started bleeding on paper.

And while she wrote sad poems sitting there depressed, she looked up, out of the window and saw that it was raining but still sunny.

She ran out and up to the roof and looked to the east.

A Rainbow.

For only about 5 minutes, the rainbow was out and then the rain stopped, so she came back inside.

And she sat again by the window and looked at the Bible.

The promise God made to Noah, the Rainbow, a symbol of God's Covenant.

And by that window, the little girl felt a new hope coming in, she felt God whispering to her through the wind. And then she somehow laughed, a hearty laugh and she felt loved. She felt loved by God.

She felt loved and seen by her mom and dad.

She felt saved, by her brother.

It's been 6 years and nobody in her house knows that she almost did what she wanted to do.

Her mom saw the other sh marks on her arm and got angry and started crying, but other than that nothing else happened.

She tried to stop doing sh, but the sorrow kept getting triggered by small things, and one day she decided to tell her mom.

All she said to the girl was “Pray about it”

And though it pissed off the girl, because she atleast expected a hug, the advice helped.

God gave her the comfort that she couldn't find in that house.

She later realized she is indeed very much loved my both her parents but, nobody in this house knows how to show appreciation or love.

She read the Bible, she prayed, she made a new bestfriend, God.

And she was normal after a long time.

The brother still doesn't know that he saved his sister's life by just shouting “CHECHI”, which is older sister in Malayalam, her mother tongue.

The brother doesn't know that everyday his sister wakes up to a new day, because of him.

The brother doesn't know that even though his sister is still very fragile and easily triggered by certain things, she still tries her best to keep herself safe, because of him.

The brother doesn't know that his sister prays everyday at mass, that her little brother doesn't go down the same path that she almost did.

The brother doesn't know that his chechi owes her life to him.

He doesn't know that his chechi only lives, because of him.

His chechi, thinks of him every time she gets triggered.

His chechi, wouldn't have been where she is right now, if it weren't for him.

His chechi waits for months, to go back home, back to him, to hear him calling her, the same thing, the same word that saved her life-

“Chechi ”

and that was the story of a little girl, who at and early age, was ready to give up everything. She was ready to take her own life.

But she didn't, she found the various joys of life. Not just the Bible and her Family.

She found friends, movies, books, music, poetry, journaling, sports and all the other things that make human lives colourful.

She started falling in love with life.

And now she tries her best to see the live in the little things.

She tries her best.

She is doing well and is safe now.

Though still a bit scared at times, she still walks firmly, by faith, not by sight.

And she's gonna live happily.

Because she is someone's chechi.

~del

The ocean that longed for the sky,

The fruit that fell from the tree still raw

The moon longing for the sun at night

I knew that it was indeed a tragedy,

For someone like me,

To dream of being-

Rather than the poet, the poetry.

For how can you bring the moon to the sun.

How can the ocean meet the sky , other than at the horizon.

How can you care for the raw fruit, that might already be rotten?

~del

For the ones that long to be the muse, the ones tired of being the artist and for the ones who can now find comfort only in the arms of their passion~

I have always loved deeply. I have fallen in love every time I realized that the smallest things can bring us happiness.

As of right now, I am in love with this feeling of being with my family, for I know after this it will be a long time till I see them again. Maybe once I'm back in college, I'll fall in love with those friends who comfort me there.

I fall in love with the sunsets every evening.

I fall in love with the sun rays peeking through the clouds, the stars twinkling in the night sky and the moon shining alongside.

I fall in love with the silence of the night.

I fall in love with people around me and their smiles.

I fall in love with hope and sometimes I fall in love with despair.

I have fallen for everything and I could never complain but only adore, this very obvious fact that, we as humans are meant to love.

Like the loving father who made us.

We are meant to love deeply, feel passionately and live freely.

Then why do we trap ourselves in our heads saying we can only love once?

Let our hearts love without limitations, let it soar through the sky showering love for every single thing that breathes and for things that exist on this earth. Let your heart love, for it is the one thing, that doesn't require anything in return. Love is free, kindness is free and yet even after loving so much, if you ever feel that you haven't been loved enough, just know that you have in store for you, a love greater than what you saw here on earth. You lived a life, an example of love, for all who are to come after you.

The world does need a revolution, a revolution that spreads selfless love and if you can be the one to start it, then what greater purpose can you have?

I've loved a million times and I've never regretted it once in my life.