How I made the decision of breaking up with him was quite outlandish. It happened because of a dream. It was on one of those nights we’d talk till really late. We were kind of fighting, not actually, kind of. Our relationship wasn’t on steady grounds anymore and our approach towards the entire situation was… indecisive.

Anyway, towards the end of the conversation, he asked if we were still good. I said yes. I won’t say I didn’t mean to because I did. I was just very unsure. I did not know how to not be with him anymore.

As I drifted off to sleep, and this is the only part of the dream that I remembered in the morning, was that I was at school, in front of the office entrance where we exit the bus. It was night time and the school was decorated with lights. Just like during last year’s annual function. (Let me just say, it was because of the function practice that we’d met and became friends. It was the best two months of school.) So, anyway, I was waiting there with a few friends of ours and I knew that he wasn’t coming. I was upset about it. Then suddenly a car rushes by us and a friend points out to me saying it was him. The noises around me increased and I started walking towards the car. I had almost reached it when the door opened and it was really him. He was so happy to see me, and likewise. He looked absolutely charming in the pink shirt and the grey suit. He stepped out and ran to me like a six year old and hugged me. And that was the happiest I had felt in all of the months we had been together. I know it was a dream and it was not real but it was the single most happiest moment. I was warm and secure and in love. And this is why I decided I had to break up with him.

You see, I suddenly remembered what it was like to be with him in the beginning. And it broke my heart to realize that all of that was gone. I did not feel as happy or secure with him now. I felt misunderstood, avoided and worthless around him. I hated how he made me feel about myself and it hurt me realizing how he’d never understand. I used to be angry on him most of the time. I did not feel happy to see him show up and I was just in dismay over the whole thing. It was the dream that made me realize how different it had become now. It did not make me nostalgic at all.

But even though it didn’t work out, I can still definitely say that he is the best person I have known. He was kind and generous. He was fun and charming and we’d started dating after being friends for a long time. Above all, apart from being a bad stress handler, he had a good heart. It was the best thing I’ve had. But it didn’t work out. He couldn’t understand me because he’d not been through any of the things I had. His only fault was in how he approached it; by avoiding me. By avoiding any tough situations, in general. And I couldn’t forgive him for this no matter how hard I tried. We just weren’t meant to be. It was best we went separate ways.

  • s/m/


You will never be let down by anyone
more than you will be let down
by the one you love most in the world
it’s how gravity works
it’s why they call it “falling”
it’s why the truth is harder to tell
every year you have more to lose
but you can choose to bury your past
in the garden by the tulips
water it until it’s so alive
it lets go
and you belong to yourself

When you belong to yourself again
Remember forgiveness
is not a tidy grave
It is a ready loyal knight kneeling before your royal heart

Call in your royal heart
Tell it bravery cannot be measured by a lack of fear
It takes guts to tremble
It takes so much tremble to love
Every first date is a fucking earthquake

Sweetheart, on our first date
I showed off all my therapy
I flaunted the couch
Where I finally sweat out my history
I pulled out the photo album from the last time I wore a lie to the school dance
I smiled and said “that was never my style
Look how fixed I am
Look how there’s no more drywall on my fist
Look at the stilts I’ve carved for my short temper
Look how my wrist is not something I have to hide” I said
Well I was hiding it

The telephone pole still down from the storm
By our third date I had fixed the line
I said listen
I have a hard time
I mean I cry as often as most people pee and I don’t shut the door behind me
I’ll be up in your face screaming “SEATTLE IS TOO RAINY SEATTLE IS TOO RAINY
I sobbed
on our fourth date

I can’t live here
In my body, I mean
I can’t live in my body all the time it feels too much
So if I ever feel far away know I am not gone
I am just underneath my grief
Adjusting the dial on my radio faith so I can take this life with all of it’s love and all of it’s loss

See I already know that you are the place where I am finally going to sing without any static meaning
I’m never gonna wait
that extra twenty minutes
to text you back
and I’m never gonna play
hard to get
when I know your life
has been hard enough already
When we all know everyone’s life
has been hard enough already

it’s hard to watch
the game we make of love,
like everyone’s playing checkers
with their scars,
saying checkmate
whenever they get out
without a broken heart.

Just to be clear
I don’t want to get out
without a broken heart.
I intend to leave this life
so shattered
there better be a thousand separate heavens
for all of my separate parts
And none of those parts are going to be wearing the romance from the overpriced vintage rack
That is to say I am not going to get a single speed bike if I can’t make it up the hill
I know exactly how many gears I’m going to need to love you well
And none of them look hip at the coffee shop
They all have God saying “good job you’re finally not full of bullshit”
You finally met someone who’s going to flatten your knee caps into skipping stones

Baby, throw me
Throw me as far as I can go
I don’t want to leave this life without ever having come home
And I want to come home to you
I can figure out the rain.
Andrea Gibson, Royal Heart

The Hottest Night of Summer

And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt and you sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point late, late, late at night, say just a bit before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns into cool and when you briefly wake up, you notice that you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep. And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex that we have to pull what’s warm – whether it’s something or someone – toward us, that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being sad in the world but ready for sleep, that’s happiness. – Paul Schmidtberger

The Suicide Dress

“This is my suicide dress,”

she told him
“I only wear it on days
when I’m afraid
I might kill myself
if I don’t wear it”

“you’ve been wearing it
every day since we met”
he said

“and these are my arson gloves”

“so you don’t set fire to something?”
he asked


“…and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault  battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots”

“I’d like to undress you” he said
“but would that make me an accomplice?”

“and today,” she said “I’m wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don’t get any ideas”

so she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door.
– Denver Butson

Divided Dreams and Forked Thoughts

Driving the speed boat on a winter noon,

the wind messing through my hair

Almost as playful as your fingers.

So easy to lose control, of the boat, of course; and my head around you.

The sunlight dimmed by my glasses just like my wits by your charm.

You were the moon, I was the sun.

The days brought memories and the nights? Ghosts of our past.

Sadness is a good incinerator.

 But it isn’t really you, I guess. It’s probably me.

Divided dreams. Forked thoughts. Parallel ideas that never meet.

I only hold on to let go.

A moment I celebrate you, in the other be disgusted.

At one instant I think of forever and in the other I want you to leave.

So easy to see, know but so difficult to feel.

I guess you’re at fault, too.

You’ve changed me in ways I cannot handle.

I do not like the things I end up doing for you.

I am not ready but I am willing. Maybe?

On divided dreams, forked thoughts and parallel ideas you reign.

You were the moon and I? The sun.

For you to shine, I had to burn.



Here’s to all the times we’ve done things we can’t be proud of.

To all the times we’ve fallen from grace and landed with misdemeanor. Here’s to your dark side and to what you are underneath.

Here’s to the ones who think there’s nothing more enlightening than misadventures.

Here’s to embracing what people won’t. To have the courage to be something people cannot accept and to believe in radical things.
Fight. Fight for what you believe in and be absolutely ruthless in your conquests..

 If you find a way to revel in your misery, you’ll eventually see its true beauty.

And lastly, here’s to weaving your emotions with literature.

The pen is not my instrument. I am its.


I feel the blood rushing out

From invisible wounds.

I see things, in a blur, a rush, dazed, uncollected.

Cold water rushing though my hair.

So bright I can’t see. Am I awake?

I feel your hands, running along my back.

My hands grasping my dry hair. What is happening?

Is this another haunting?

I hear you whisper into my ears,

Something that once could set me ablaze.

I reach for your lips and the brightness dims,

I see you, it’s raining, or is it the shower?

Too near to sense, too far to feel.

The water’s getting warmer but my arms are cold.

I can feel you on me but I can’t perceive your skin.

The veins in my head are bursting.

Am I drunk? Or was it the bottle of sleeping pills?

You’re something I made you become.

The phantom scars of your words and how your touch heals them; is tormenting?

Everything is abstract, or the opposite of it. I see but I don’t feel.

Where are you?

     Passing through the house, looking for clues

To where you might be, I can’t sense the cold walls but I feel the cotton sheets.

I am being haunted. By the ghosts of my memories.

They need to wake so I need to sleep.

The only way you’re here is in my dreams.



  Sometimes the phrase, “You won’t understand. It hasn’t happened to you” is not much of a pretext to feeling infinitesimal as much as it is to wanting to feel rare. Sometimes you don’t want people to understand. You don’t want to listen to stuff like “It will get better with time. You’ll be fine” and certainly not “Pull yourself together”.

Sometimes, you just want to writhe in your misery. You want to be a mess. You want to obsess about the unkindness and inhumanity you’ve been shown. You want to feel like you’ve been treated worst. You want to think people cannot go through anything more contemptible. You want to believe things will never get better because that’s how you feel. You want to withdraw into yourself and be in sync with the squalor. You want to embrace the torment.

And you have every right to.

“I don’t want to feel the things that have been done to me can be recovered from. I don’t want to pull myself together. I don’t think time heals. I think time makes us forget. And forgetfulness does not ensure closure. If anything, I don’t want to forget. Misery for me is the antidote to it. Victimizing myself is the way I get past being one. I want to plunge into what makes me sad. I want to obsess over it so much that I get sick of it and leave. This is recovery for me. This is what I understand of healing. This is what I call cauterizing.

Don’t ask me to hold myself together. It seems ludicrous to me. If you want to be there for me and you don’t understand my process, be silent. Your words of encouragement hurt me. You speak like you’ve been through what I am in. But you’ve not. If you’re worried about me then the one thing I can assure is that every such cycle is temporary. Let me close myself in. Let me be.

I am one of those people who don’t accept help getting up. I believe one has to pick oneself up in order to be strong. Trying to forget one’s mishaps does not benefit. One has to deal with them. And this is how I deal. This is how I fight. And this is how I recover.

These are basic survival instincts. You don’t fight drowning because you realize what a beautiful life you might have ahead. You fight against the water because you know you’re dying.”

Check out Lady Gaga’s new video “Till it happens to you”.


Why is it that I always become that one person in everyone’s life that can be mistreated without the intervention of their conscience? Why do I stand up to be the expendable variable? The variable on which nothing and no one needs to depend. Why do I end up becoming the punching bag?

Why do I invest so much into a relationship only to realize I hold no real importance to them? Why does my memory hold so much criticism from people I have done nothing to but loved?

 And why can I not treat them the same?

                     It’s because you’re the expendable variable. The variable people can depend on to kick away but not lose.

You’re beautiful. You’re not worthless or unimportant. You’re a necessity. You’re a necessity that people can’t live without. You’re the punching bag that makes them strong. You’re not what they scar on. What you don’t realize is you’re the mark they’ll not be able to rub off.

Of course, you take hits and surely you break but you’re stronger than any of them. You’re much bigger than people who think they are bigger than everything else. You’re the strongest of them all. You know why?      

    …Because you don’t need an expandable variable. You grow stronger with every hit you take, Let them beat you down. Let them bruise you up. With time, you will realize that their hits don’t grow. You become resilient. You become prepared and strong. And mostly you realize that things that don’t grow with time, you grow out of. Lie down till you’re strong enough to get up; because once you do people will only stop and stare.

    …Because you’re NOT the expendable variable and people who think you are, are bad at math. You’re not something they can ignore and make sure they realize that when it’s too late to recalculate. You’re your universe. You’re not expendable. You cannot be ignored; you are the key to your own equation. Do not expect fools to realize your worth.



Can you actually look back at a memory and replay it with its original intensity? Can you remember it as if you could go back in time and relive it? I can.

I remember you. The way you were before. You were a cynical, calculating, compartmentalizing, majorly miserable human. I liked it. That’s we got along so well. I knew you, you were like this mirror image of mine.

All those days we spent, comparing how we were different than the rest. I remember because that is how I fell for you… and you for me.

We became the people we couldn’t think of becoming, we did what we thought we weren’t capable of. Didn’t we?

Did we? Did YOU?

We were silly romantic. Our story is something you see in all those high school movies. Girl meets boy. They become best friends. Girl falls for boy. Boy for girl. But neither can confess. After a series of interesting events, they do. And then it begins. And that’s where the movie ends.

But I never grasped that all that can glow, can burn?

How much till too much? How good till too good? When does best become hollow? And when does hollow start hurting? When does ‘You’re enough’ becomes ‘enough is enough’?

Who are you now? I fell for this crazy guy who shared my view of the world. One who seemed responsible and sensitive and understanding because you were like me. You’ve turned into this entirely different person.

It hurts more because I remember how you were before we got together. And it hurts worse to know that you don’t remember me at all and neither can you see the fact that I haven’t changed.

How was I supposed to know that all that misery and cynicism you were bathing in was a product of loneliness? The things I liked in you were volatile, I realize that now. They burned out the moment you achieved the confidence of another person.

And I cannot accept it somehow. You cannot understand that the qualities we shared, that the ones I have are not a product of loneliness but a sum of everything I have been through. Events I cannot change or forget. My behavior and the essence of my existence are not volatile or variable. And you don’t even try to fathom it.

How can you be so oblivious to the fact that I need you? I don’t need you to give me solutions. I know how to process and act. I just need you to be there. And you deliberately won’t.

I turn to you when I am in need, which is not much. And you know how miserable I am. And I understand that you can’t help me out because you’ve never gone through anything close to what I have. But can’t you just be there for me instead of deliberately avoiding me when I am down? You know I am a chronic depressive. And that is what makes it worse. YOU CAUSE IT most of the times now. And I find it totally ridiculous how all the actual reasons of my state get a lesser priority when my brain juices have to party. Instead of getting depressed about all of those reasons, I instead get depressed about how you’ll never be there for me when I need you. I can neither process it nor control it.

I have always been there for you, haven’t I? Have you? Ever? I guess not.

You deliberately did not talk to me over the weekend my mother left home for good. You read 400 pages of Game of Thrones and watched a bunch of crap on television. And when you did decide to talk to me, you chose to tell me about what you did rather than checking up on me. I have tried, trust me. But I cannot forgive you for this. I just can’t. To top everything, you ignored me when I confronted you about this.

I like you. But this just makes me hate you. More than that, it makes me hate myself. It makes me feel unworthy and unimportant. Like am I a piece of shit or what? I deserve this kind of unkindness from you?

You are definitely cold, calculating and compartmental. You are definitely my mirror image. But what I never calculated was that like all mirror images, you too were laterally inverted. Because I could never do this to you.

    All the memories I have of you from before we were together haunt me. You used to definitely care more then. We only care for things that we haven’t achieved. And now that you have, you’ve formed this safety net. Because you believe no matter what happens, it will all be okay. I will be with you no matter what. So you have given up all responsibilities. And that itches too. Realizing that if I go, you’ll never come try to retrieve what we have. You’ll not even try.

I cannot deal with your mess. I have my own ocean to drown in. Do not burden with me with more unkindness and ignorance. That is all I have received all my life. I cannot handle it if you clip more of that weight when I am desperately trying to stay afloat.

They say the most painful verse of a defeat is the memory of a victory. So it is. I don’t understand how can claim to care when all you do is make me feel oblivious. Neither can I tolerate my weakness for you. All I want is for you to go away. Just go away.