This is the excerpt for your very first post.
I want the world to know that there exists someone like me.Someone willing to hear, someone who wants to be heard.
When we sometimes do something good or when we say something so elegant that for one moment we think that yes, we have done something at last, that all the meaning there is in world is known to us, we sometimes wonder if someone else will know what we’ve just done. Would the spark of insight that was ignited inside us be acknowledged? Will people look at us with awe and will they talk about us? We wonder and wonder and wonder but we never know. It’s a terrible emotion with terrific beauty so enchanting that even the most articulate of writers cannot pen it down.
I write today because I want people to know that I, indeed, have ignited that spark.I write today because I want to know that someone else too did ignite that spark in other life, other dimension.
I want to believe that people understand. I want to believe that I am needed. Be it a stranger staring at the blank screen,wanting to be heard. You know how Peter in Tonight the streets are ours just wanted to be heard? How Charlie in Perks of being a Wallflower poured his heart out to an anonymous friend? How Cath in Fangirl befriended people who were made of nothing but ink and paper? I want to be that anonymous friend to someone. I want to be that ink and paper.
The War is Coming.Inside and Outside.
Approaching, menacingly, to me and to the world. Strange how we already know it’s out there and yet we are so oblivious. Strange how we know it’s in us and still find the causalities bleeding us out.
The war has got a poetic touch to it, don’t you think so? I do. Why is it different to all of us? Why does it not hit all of us together? Why this discrimination?
The war is indeed coming.
It rained down, literally and metaphorically, on me. And I desperately tried to run away from those thick Nimbus clouds that hung around my day, writing on this very blog about optimism. Told ya, can’t be sure these days even about your own words.
But as the curtains fell, the day sunk, the night rose, the clock ticked, all the thoughts and tears and all things dark and ugly that I kept bottled up started to shatter me inside out. I wanted it all to fade away, the light, the dark, the people, the things,everything. I murmured the words of consolation to myself, I imagined screaming, yeah that’s something you do, you imagine when the world puts constraints.
Conjured my Patronus, called Padfoot and his voice just pulls me away from the dementors. We talked, not about the day and how screwed up I felt but about those stupid little things of school which I am sure the actual Marauders(The Originals of Wizarding World) talked of too whenever they felt low. Hung up, called Moony ’cause at least one of the Marauders always has to know the real reason behind your tears, behind your fears and sometimes Moony just understands things better than Padfoot.
I think at least tonight I’ll sleep better with no weight pulling me down. I know there’s another battle for tomorrow but there’s enough hope to fight that as long as I have my Moony and Padfoot by my side, until then “Mischief Managed.”
Only the other day my father showed me this post on WhatsApp, where there was this quote which went on like-“There’s something to learn from both optimists and pessimists. Optimists build aeroplanes and pessimists design parachutes.” And even though this quote strikes balance between the two, to me, being an optimist is just..In vogue..Maybe it’s just the Ravenclaw philosophy of faking it till you make it that’s making me say this but..yes, my experience tells me that even when you’re having emotional meltdowns, the way out of that labyrinth of suffering (okay , one of them) is to be optimistic, no matter if it’s just pretending. Pretending just works. It’s hard, but when it works, it works miracles. I just feel it in my bones, my mind becoming sexier, better and I don’t know it just helps to deal with all the chaos.
Treacherous little things, dream catchers are. Metaphorically.
Have been reading poetry on tumblr and the ones like this one, showcasing strength and all the beauty in being a girl and all things bright and big and inspiring have been the only driving forces, nudging me to stand it all.
It’s been a while since I wrote last. There are gaps. To fill those gaps, I only have some mere realizations, hollow voices that come creaking through my skull. As I write, I remember all that I have felt these past few days. Maybe longer, I just can’t tell sometimes.
I’m done making people stay ’cause in the end they all come and go whenever it pleases them. Human, quite human. I wanted to hold them back, all of them, all those I met, to never let them move away from me in time. And I did all I could. But as I lay around thinking, starring blankly, I felt that I just couldn’t fight this tide. I could try to hold on to myself tight, placing my feet firmly on the sand, and I did. Eventually I just noticed that my footprints just faded. No matter how hard I tried. Why is it that whenever I want them to stay, it becomes so easy to build an exit? I am tired of all the people I have cared for. All of them. And it resonates, this question.
There are bigger things coming my way, splendid ones, in 2017, and the only thing I have to say as I embrace the year, the new life is that I no longer wish to hold on to people. There are things more meaningful than loving and trying to hold pieces of everyone so that you don’t break. I am looking for that. I’m looking for that.