Philosophical Me!

Truth or lies?

imageAnd that chapter is the one everybody is dying to read,don’t ya think?
And that chapter is the one everybody is dying to read,don't ya think?

Truth and lies.

I won’t moralise about what I’ve learned but I can tell you this: in my experience, telling the truth can land you in just as much shit—err, crap, as lying. More sometimes. Sure, a lie can trap you; it can crush you immediately or slowly weigh you down until you suffocate. But telling the truth won’t necessarily set you free; it can cost you everything you love the most. And it can force you to face yourself, as painful as that may be.

So, Truth or Lies?

Uncategorized

Beautiful Liar.

Source: Pinterest

SECRETS are lies in their own right. One can’t keep a secret without a lie. And we revere someone who can keep a secret, yet scorn those who lie. It is the same. They all meld together. We want confidantes to surround us, trustworthy and loyal. But we scream bloody murder when we find someone has been keeping secrets from us. We forget to remember the fact that they could be someone’s confidante themselves. Or maybe it’s not their secret to tell. And, maybe not ours to know either. Secrets we have with our cronies are revered. They make our bond grow stronger. Secrets they have with someone else, us being not on the in, ruin relationships of years past. We love, we fight, we cry over those secrets. But we can’t live without them. They rule us and all our actions. They control us in ways we would destroy lives to get away from the pressure of revealing them than succumb. But we won’t let go. Every now and then, the slate is clean and we have the opportunity to move forward without any of it weighing us down. But another day dawns and ding! We are back to square one, surrounded by beautiful lies and lovely secrets, ever strengthening the stench of desperation to be the one holding all the cards where the bets are high and the game has just begun.

Awards!:D

The Too Much Information Tag.

WARNING: LONG-ASS POST REVEALING MY DARKEST SECRETS, USING UP WORDS I COULD WRITE HUNDREDS OF POEMS WITH.

Okay, so, it’s been a long while since I did a tag. A really long while. But since I like you, SW, I am doing this for you. And, only because this one has decent get-to-know-you-better questions and not the lame-ass questions most tags have. (Not that I have that many readers left wanting to get to know me better now since I disappear all the fucking time.)
But, here.

1. What are you currently wearing?
A pink cropped top and bottoms with adorable police cars, and taxis, and trucks on them. (Yes. I am that childish.)

2. Have you ever been in love?
Nope. Probably won’t ever be.

3. Have you ever had a terrible breakup?
No. No relationships, no breakups. I don’t need tragedy to be as tragically dramatic as I am.

4. How old are you?
21.

5. How tall are you?
5′ 4.456″. (The. 456 is of utmost importance.)

6. Do you have any piercing?
Just the standard lobe piercing. I want to get a conch, daith, or a snug piercing soooo damn bad though.

7. What’s your favorite drink?
Water. Hands down.

8. What’s your favorite song?
Not much of a fan of “favorites”. I love music. All music. I am currently listening to Gin Wigmore’s Saturday Smile and Awolnation’s Sail a lot though. So.

9. What’s your zodiac sign?
Gemini. (Yep. There’s a reason I have bipolar-esque tendencies.)

10. How long does it take for you to shower?
I am anti-shower. Not anti-bathing, mind you. ANTI-SHOWER. The amount of water we waste every time we shower? GOD. I can’t even.
But, yes. If it’s the bathing time we are talking about, 8-10 minutes, most days.

11. What’s your favorite show?

Political dramas like Reign and mystery dramas like Lost. I want to watch Suits. But I will wait till the series concludes. GoT, too. But, again, still ongoing.

12. What’s your favorite band?
*groans* Well,
Awolnation, All Time Low, Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Breaking Benjamin, Guns N Roses, Three Days Grace, Aerosmith, Queen, Linkin Park, Bon Jovi, Imagine Dragons, System of a Down, Twenty One Pilots, The Rolling Stones, Green Day, Coldplay, Snow Petrol, The Cure, Maroon 5, Fall Out Boy, CNCO, One Republic, Dixie Chicks, Little Mix, Paramore.
Baaaaasicallyyy, anythingggg.

13. Something you really miss?
Guzraa hua waqt.
Very dramatic. But, yes.

14. Where do you go when you are sad?
Inside a book, I guess.
Physically though? The upper sitting in my home. It’s a little elevated place with the floor totally covered by a huge mattress and it closes off from the rest of the house by some curtains.

15. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
10 minutes, give or take a couple of minutes.

16. Have you ever been in a physical fight?
Yes. It’s mostly screaming matches now though.

17. What turns you on?
Quick wit, great conversational skills, well-dressed and well-groomed people (Someone who looks like they give a shit about how they look.), they should sound good (As vain as that is. People who poop when they open their mouths are a no-go.).
Also, these don’t “turn me on” but I like dimples (I wanted some for me, but, well, it doesn’t work that way so, I appreciate it on other people) and tall people (I love heels. Ridiculously high heels. So.).

18. What turns you off?
BO, dull people, sexist assholes, MCPs, slow walkers, slow talkers, slow everything, really.

19. Qualities you look for in a partner?
I don’t? Look for a partner, that is. So, no qualities either.

20. What’s your favorite color?
Gray, black, white.

21.Loud music or soft?
All music. At a high volume.

22. Favorite quote?

“It is written.”

“Whatever happened happened.”

And,
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
Could I BE any more of a cliché, considering the name of my blog?

23. Favorite actor?
Don’t have any.

24. Do you have any fears?
Drowning. I don’t know how to swim. I can’t bring myself to learn. It’s safe to say, I sit at the shallowest end of the pool if I ever have to. Love the ocean though.

25. What’s the last thing that made you cry?
I cry at every little thing. Someone loses someone close to them in a book? Waterworks. A parent died in a movie? Heavy Rains. You are advised to stay home. Someone who I know remotely dies? Floods. My maa yells at me? Cloud burst. Everybody in the proximity is dead.

26. Last time you said you loved someone?

It’s been a while.

27. Last book you read?
Probably a YA novel. I was also reading Nikita Gill and Rupi Kaur’s poem collections. God are they beautiful.

Source: Rupi Kaur’s The Sun and Her Flowers

28. The book you are currently reading?
None at the moment. I was planning on reading Dongri to Dubai though. It’s based on Dawood Ibrahim’s life? Yep. Totally experimenting with serious non-fiction.

29. Last show you watched?
Um okay. This is my secret shame. But, The Originals.

30. Last place you were?
I have been home since yesterday evening. But I was at the gym last if that counts.

31. Last sport you played?
Does throwing around the Frisbee count? If not, is aerobics a sport or a dance from? Or yoga? If none of these count, then badminton or football. Not sure.

Source: Facebook

32. Who’s the last person you talked to?
Maa.

33. The last song you sang?
Saturday Smile by Gin Wigmore.

34. Favorite chat up line?
I hate “chatting people up”. I am the person who lets hundreds of texts collect before she even opens WhatsApp. I prefer the serious conversations with a halt. A few texts here. A few texts there. I hate making small talk.

35. Do you have a crush?
Nope. None.

36. The relationship between you and the last person you texted?
My mausi’s (maternal aunt’s) best friend. Or maybe it was a friend. I can’t recall.

37. Favorite food?
Anything without a face minus apple guard.

38. Place you want to visit?
Is everywhere too ambitious?

39. What’s the last time you kissed someone?

No kissing and telling.

40. Last time you were insulted?
Generally I am the one hurling insults. But my cousin tends to get away with flinging a couple at me as revenge. It happened earlier in the week.

41. What’s your favorite sweet?
Moong ki daal ka halwa. I will give my left kidney for a bowl of that right now.

42. What instruments do you play?
I used to play the synthesiser back in the day. I try to strum my mother’s guitar. But I suck at it. And, I want to learn to play violin and piano. Some day. Sigh

43. Favorite piece of jewelry?
Dainty anklets.

44. Last time you hung out with anyone?
A couple of weeks back. It was a childhood friend. We had a falling out a few years ago. We mended our friendship.:”)

I am not doing the nominating thing. Whoever is in the mood to share too much information about themselves, go ahead.

P.S. Weirdo vibes, anyone?

Fiction.📝

He.

imageAnd, life wouldn’t be so meaningless.
And, life wouldn't be so meaningless.

Ghosts blew through the deserted corridors of his soul like gusts of cold wind. His eyes. It looked like nothing resided in those icy blue globes. But for a fleeting second I saw whole universe swimming in there. Then the shutters dropped as if it never was. That half-grin of his was just that –a wry twist of his lips, trying to hide the real beauty behind it. It was nothing like his real smile. That was a breathtaking sight. When he smiled, people stopped and stared. But he didn’t do it often. No. It was as if he was afraid of smiling; as if the reason behind it would be taken away from him if he showed even a sign that he was a normal, lovable person. He acted like an emotionless, ice-hearted asshole who only did what he wanted to without giving a shit about anyone. But, I saw the truth. I saw that he was a guy with heart of gold and most colorful mind.

-a-

Poetry

Amber eyes.

2
Source | AMBER EYES.

Those whiskey eyes
Drenched in her heart blood,
Staring silently into the darkness.
Long eyelashes wet
With the dew of her soul’s rains.
The dark half moons under her amber jewels
More pronounced than ever.
They are the I’ve-seen-it-all eyes,
Laden with experiences of numerous lives past.
She has no crow’s feet.
She’s young.
But her precious eyes tell a different story.
She’s lived through it all.
Those liquid gold eyes have been witness.
Numbness is her friend.
Her eyes know it even better.

-a-

Poetry

Two Broken Wings.

imageSource: Google Images Source: Google Images
Source: Google Images

She had a lonely past.

Loneliness, her friend of choice.

The past had taught her lessons few.

Drunk mother taught her to keep her mouth shut.

Opening it resulted in insults hurled incessantly.

It was better to stay hidden.

It was better to stay quiet.

Depressed father educated her to never get attached.

The spirit bottles her mother guzzled had made him a broken man.

He did nothing. He said nothing.

It was better to stay aloof.

It was better to stay away.

Promiscuous sister was the next in line.

She taught her to never trust the divine.

She slept around in hopes of finding the one.

There was no one.

There was never one.

She used to dream of flying around,

Enjoy the sights and the cheerful sounds.

She was now a bird with a broken wing.

She couldn’t fly, she didn’t dream.

Then came he.

Filling her with hope and positivity,

He told her she was magnificent and free.

She believed him and started to try,

She was going to be the bird

With a broken wing who could fly.

She thought she got rid of the past that engulfed her.

She didn’t think she needed to stick with the lessons anymore.

She believed he was the one who would help her fly and dream again.

He was the last straw, he wasn’t supposed to be.

He promised to teach her to fly with one wing.

Instead, he broke the other wing.

She was now a bird with two broken wings,

that couldn’t fly.

She wouldn’t fly.

-a-

Uncategorized

Life of HER.

imageSource: Facebook Source: Facebook Source: Facebook Source: Facebook
Source: Facebook

Braiding the memories of her life past in her hair she started walking on the path she saw in her dreams. It was happy memories for when she wanted to feel the love coursing through her bones. And, it was the sad memories for when she just needed to feel.
She filled her water bottle with water laced with the salt in her tears. It was from happy tears for when she needed to reminisce and laugh. And, it was tears she had shed when her heart broke for when she just needed to remember that she didn’t need nobody to hold her up. She was a strong girl. She was the strongest on her own.
She stopped and turned back to the light breeze that had followed her from the place she called her past. It whistled merrily with smell of her soul and the voice of the smiles in the days past. And, it whispered of the whimpered begging she did when she thought she needed them to live and the waterfalls of emotions she had let go of in the sea already burgeoning with the feelings of others. She smiled and urged the breeze to return to where it had come from. She thanked it for the presents that it had brought. She would need the tinkling of the whispers for when she needed to remember she was a wild one who had been restrained for far too long. Never again.
Looking ahead at the bends in the road fashioned with the essence of her soul, she exhaled. She let go of all the ties she had thought she needed to survive but actually didn’t. And, she let go of all the digressions and hurt she had carried in spaces between her bones and blood. They were weighing her down. She didn’t need them anymore.
She looked up at the sky sparkling with pieces of her life she wanted to hold on to but didn’t need to hold on to. They would travel with her till she decided that she was enough on her own. They would sparkle, arranged in constellations of memories past. And, when she was ready to move ahead without them, they would fall like beautiful stars, turning into stardust, a shower of happiness and tears –everything that made her her.

P.S. Another one, I guess. Sigh

-a-

Poetry

Magnificent.

image

The smell of her soul intertwined with shades of her gorgeous being engulfed everyone around.
She was the most amazing combination of the sight of happiness and the sound of smile.
She was an unreal reality that you couldn’t fully embrace but couldn’t let go of either.
She was the dream that everyone tried to hold on to after being woken up suddenly but just couldn’t remember.
She was the bright sound and the melodious light. She was a being that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.
She was the being that was awake in everyone’s dream.
She was magnificent, mind and soul.
She was magnificence come to life.

P.S. I am writing too many “she was this, she was that” kinda posts, aren’t I? Sigh

-a-