"It's not fair", I cry.
"Life's unfair", he says, almost nonchalantly.
"But..."
It's turning into a rhetorical statement almost.
Losing people never came easy to me. I wish I was one of those, who could detach as and when she wanted to. And hold on for exactly the time it was necessary. And just leave the pain behind as memories. Why does gaining one relationship mean losing so many others? How do emotions and feelings turn into smoke in a matter of a day, or a conversation? And what fueled that fire?
I've been searching the universe for this question and from everywhere came the reply, there's a reason people from your past didn't make it to your present. But then sometimes you just can't do without that support, or smile.
The conflict between my head and my heart is never ending. One fights for the logic that people left you because they had to, when the other argues that there isn't a question of leaving when it comes to love...
But now
The answer is pretty obvious actually.
She fell out of love too.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
This date, last year and this one and for years to come.
Here's to you and me. For one year of this and that and them. And now, finally a day of us. Here's to you for making the cheesiest day of any girl's life, always the best of mine. The one day in these two years, where I promised myself I wouldn't see you, but I knew in the bottom of my heart, that you'd be there. And there you were. Man, the way things changed from the same time last year to now, the way we changed, the People we met, we loved. But still, despite it all, here we are, and still, you are my perfection. No matter who you killed, for years to come, you, Kartik Bhatia, will always be my perfection.
And you, Kartik Bhatia, cannot run away from this. It will pull us back together like two ends of rubberband, at the end of it, it's still one piece of elastic. And that's what we are, one. And that's what we've always been.
Today, is the perfect day of thank you for yesterday, and for tomorrow. And I mean that metaphorically as well. Thank you for what we had, and thank you for what we will have. And I know, no matter how today goes, at the end of the day, I'll have you :)
My perfection.
Love and lot of other dirty feelings.
And you, Kartik Bhatia, cannot run away from this. It will pull us back together like two ends of rubberband, at the end of it, it's still one piece of elastic. And that's what we are, one. And that's what we've always been.
Today, is the perfect day of thank you for yesterday, and for tomorrow. And I mean that metaphorically as well. Thank you for what we had, and thank you for what we will have. And I know, no matter how today goes, at the end of the day, I'll have you :)
My perfection.
Love and lot of other dirty feelings.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Walking away
It's pretty sad how everything comes with a timeline.
Laughter, pain, love, relationships and life itself.
It's good in a way I guess, you know that you're never stagnant. But what if sometimes you just don't want things to change, you want them to be right the way they are. Just one part of your life. What do you do then? Do you hold on till it's been stretched so hard and all that is left is the faint trace of what used to be?
Or do you let go, like you did of everything else and let time heal scars and wounds like it always has.
But, you know you can't regret either decision, because at one point, that's exactly what you wanted.
Who knew holding on to things could be as hard as letting go is. Who knew.
Laughter, pain, love, relationships and life itself.
It's good in a way I guess, you know that you're never stagnant. But what if sometimes you just don't want things to change, you want them to be right the way they are. Just one part of your life. What do you do then? Do you hold on till it's been stretched so hard and all that is left is the faint trace of what used to be?
Or do you let go, like you did of everything else and let time heal scars and wounds like it always has.
But, you know you can't regret either decision, because at one point, that's exactly what you wanted.
Who knew holding on to things could be as hard as letting go is. Who knew.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Grains of Sand
I walk with my hands in my pockets, looking around, hoping no one is noticing the change of expressions on my face or the twitching of my mouth every now and then. I'm hiding beneath my hair, always letting it down, so that it covers imperfections and sometimes tears.
This is probably the happiest phase of my life, but I can't get myself to put my hands out in the air and embrace it. Instead, my hands remain in my pocket where I finger a tiny shell and some sand. The shell upsets me but reminds me of times which were beautiful and calm, two things which are seeming lost in my life for a while now. It puts me in a place that was my paradise. Standing in an old rusted lighthouse and looking at the dark clouds that were approaching us.. we didn't care. We had each other then. Ofcourse we did, because when it rained, you covered me with your jacket, hugged me tight and bundled me up in the car. Warmth of that sort, no, I haven't felt it since then. In the dark of the night, when all I can do is think, I think about you and that one night.
I've forgiven you though, for letting me go, just like they said you would. We got too busy for each other I guess- the excuse I've made up when people ask me. It hurts, but I'll be fine. We had our time and space, and hopefully someday, we'll feel that way again.
The sand in my pockets on the other hand is something that refuses to get out. There's sand in my shoes, some in my pockets, in my bag and hair and everywhere. Tiny reminiscences here and there, reminding me every moment that there aren't things I've let go off. People and memories who don't deserve my time anymore, but are still occupying space in my already crammed head. Exactly a month back, someone told me that 80% of the way we feel generally is because of the 20% of the people in our life. Negative, that's how I feel. I'm letting their poison seep into my world even though they aren't a part of it anymore. Unhappiness, insecurity, stress are slowly becoming a part of my life.
If only I could get rid of the damn sand.
Detox, cleansing, rebirth even. What is the answer out? Help? Anyone?
This is probably the happiest phase of my life, but I can't get myself to put my hands out in the air and embrace it. Instead, my hands remain in my pocket where I finger a tiny shell and some sand. The shell upsets me but reminds me of times which were beautiful and calm, two things which are seeming lost in my life for a while now. It puts me in a place that was my paradise. Standing in an old rusted lighthouse and looking at the dark clouds that were approaching us.. we didn't care. We had each other then. Ofcourse we did, because when it rained, you covered me with your jacket, hugged me tight and bundled me up in the car. Warmth of that sort, no, I haven't felt it since then. In the dark of the night, when all I can do is think, I think about you and that one night.
I've forgiven you though, for letting me go, just like they said you would. We got too busy for each other I guess- the excuse I've made up when people ask me. It hurts, but I'll be fine. We had our time and space, and hopefully someday, we'll feel that way again.
The sand in my pockets on the other hand is something that refuses to get out. There's sand in my shoes, some in my pockets, in my bag and hair and everywhere. Tiny reminiscences here and there, reminding me every moment that there aren't things I've let go off. People and memories who don't deserve my time anymore, but are still occupying space in my already crammed head. Exactly a month back, someone told me that 80% of the way we feel generally is because of the 20% of the people in our life. Negative, that's how I feel. I'm letting their poison seep into my world even though they aren't a part of it anymore. Unhappiness, insecurity, stress are slowly becoming a part of my life.
If only I could get rid of the damn sand.
Detox, cleansing, rebirth even. What is the answer out? Help? Anyone?
Friday, February 3, 2012
Let it go.
So ironic. But so repeated. Every time two hearts meet, somewhere, one breaks.
What's worse? When you've been in both the positions. And weirdly enough, you feel terrible at both times.
What's more ironic? When all your life you think you've been great at relationships and they all fall flat on your face, and then when you finally meet the right one, you have suddenly forgotten to be in a relationship. Forgotten how it is to be loved. How to receive.
What could possibly be worse? The fact that you start missing what you had. But wait, isn't this a step higher? Isn't this how it was meant to be? Then what? Why this hopelessness..
Stop looking out, start looking in, says a little voice from inside. And when you do, you see his eyes.. looking at you like you're the only thing that matters and ever did, those eyes are saying things which he never would, all those fights and tears and angry glances all lead up to this one moment. Vulnerable. That's the word. You feel vulnerable in his arms. That's a new feeling though. You know you've felt love, lust, passion and all of those things people feel in a relationship. But Vulnerability? That's a new one.
But you find that being vulnerable is the only way to let your heart feel true pleasure after all the hurt and scars, feel it so close and real that it scares you.
http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html
What's worse? When you've been in both the positions. And weirdly enough, you feel terrible at both times.
What's more ironic? When all your life you think you've been great at relationships and they all fall flat on your face, and then when you finally meet the right one, you have suddenly forgotten to be in a relationship. Forgotten how it is to be loved. How to receive.
What could possibly be worse? The fact that you start missing what you had. But wait, isn't this a step higher? Isn't this how it was meant to be? Then what? Why this hopelessness..
Stop looking out, start looking in, says a little voice from inside. And when you do, you see his eyes.. looking at you like you're the only thing that matters and ever did, those eyes are saying things which he never would, all those fights and tears and angry glances all lead up to this one moment. Vulnerable. That's the word. You feel vulnerable in his arms. That's a new feeling though. You know you've felt love, lust, passion and all of those things people feel in a relationship. But Vulnerability? That's a new one.
But you find that being vulnerable is the only way to let your heart feel true pleasure after all the hurt and scars, feel it so close and real that it scares you.
http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Rain and You.
I believe in you,
Like I believe in rain without seeing the clouds
There's just something about the air then,
Something smells better, tells you change is close by.
You smile, because you know it's on it's way,
You get your jackets out, but throw them in a corner,
Because this time you want to drench yourself in the downpour,
Take in everything that there is,
And you feel liberated and joyous just be smelling the rain in the air.
All this by just believing that it will rain.
How can they tell me not to believe in your love then?
When some wise man said it's the thought that counts, it probably is,
Imagining rain coming close made me happy, feeling and imagining your love in my head and heart is then a feeling of ecstasy. I believe, and I'm glad I do.
Like I believe in rain without seeing the clouds
There's just something about the air then,
Something smells better, tells you change is close by.
You smile, because you know it's on it's way,
You get your jackets out, but throw them in a corner,
Because this time you want to drench yourself in the downpour,
Take in everything that there is,
And you feel liberated and joyous just be smelling the rain in the air.
All this by just believing that it will rain.
How can they tell me not to believe in your love then?
When some wise man said it's the thought that counts, it probably is,
Imagining rain coming close made me happy, feeling and imagining your love in my head and heart is then a feeling of ecstasy. I believe, and I'm glad I do.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
To The Nice Guys I know
This is an old one, but it still applies to all those nice guys I know, the roommates, the friends, the ones who warned me a million times but were still there every time to wipe away those silly tears, for those who put my pain over theirs and for those who let me wet their shirts with my tears and drool :) I love you
Ode to the Nice Guys
This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
Ode to the Nice Guys
This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
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