Tag Archives: sex

Paradise

We aren’t where we started.

We aren’t where we ended, either.

We’re far away from that place and those moments.

Right now, at this second, the only thing I remember is how you looked at me this morning and the only thing I feel is your eyes on me.

Beaches and sunsets, strawberries with champagne, and cigarettes and skin; this is what I’ll take with me when we return to that place.

This will end.

You will leave me, again.

Other people will burst our bubble, again.

You’ll still know there’s me out there, who loves you more than I’m capable of.

I’ll still wonder if you ever really did.

Whatever happens, I want you to know,

This Paradise was worth the hell that’ll follow

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Oh my.

Hello, world.

I’m uncomfortable.

Just kidding.

Well, kind of.

I don’t know how it happened but somehow I became so comfortable with being alone and like three other friends that now the idea of meeting someone new makes me so uncomfortable its insane. When I say people, it’s mostly boys that make me feel uncomfortable.

I first came to know about this when me and my friend were just hanging out, minding out business and day drinking. Then, her friend called and invited himself. And it honestly made me want to leave. I don’t even know that dude, and I honestly don’t have any problem with him. Still, from the moment he arrived to when I left, I felt like shit.

Then some days later, my friend made plans with him again and invited me to go with them to Bhopal. I wouldn’t have even thought about it if it was just me and my friend, but some other dude with us??? The thought actually made me want to throw up. Needless to say, I did not go with them.

It’s also not limited to that one guy, it’s any guy. I legitimately panic if a guy calls me, like I did a few days ago when a dude I hadn’t spoken to in YEARS called me. I knew him in a very wild time of my life. Not something I care about reminiscing. I tried to relax myself because we were talking on the phone. There was nothing he could do that should have me feeling worried. I even tried to explain to him that being around boys had started to make me feel some weird way. Nothing good came out of it. He just suggested that I needed to get laid to change that attitude.

Then a dude I knew was in town in August, I guess???? He tried to reschedule three time and all three times I had to come up with an excuse which didn’t involve the words “The fact that you’re a boy scares the shit out of me”.

This feeling is annoying, because I do like boys. I’m human, I have…you know, urges and feelings, that too for the opposite sex. Not being able to talk to them hinders the entire point.

The only reason I’ve come up with to explain this is that over the past year, any guy that has ever come into my life has only ever wanted one thing. That’s okay for them to want to sex with someone, I don’t care. It’s just I’m not that person. I don’t mean this in a “I’m-so-hot-everyone-wants-to-sleep-with-me” because that’s not true. That’s just the pattern it’s been the past year or so for me.

It’s not like I didn’t try, you know. But I’ve been so focused on not lying to everyone else that I forgot to not lie to myself. I’m not that person who can be intimate with just about anyone. I’ve tried to be, but I’m not. It does not make me feel good and I refuse to do that anymore. I don’t care if other people do this. I’m not judging. It’s their body, it’s their decision and it’s none of my business. Similarly, It’s my body, and it’s my decision to not do that anymore, and it’s no one else’s business.

Do I wish things were different? Yes. I wish I was that person who could be carefree with her body, who could talk to whatever boy she wanted or do whatever with anyone she wanted. I don’t want to feel like crap afterwards. I so wish it was me. But it’s not. I don’t care what anyone else has to say.

It’s my body. It’s the only thing I can control. The decision to share it with someone, or not to, should be up to me, and only me.

But other than that, I do know a guy who is like family to me. Palash has never been creepy to me. He’s always been respectful and very understanding and I guess that’s the reason he’s the only dude who doesn’t give me the creeps.

I don’t know any more than this. This might be just a very prolonged phase, but this is what it is. I know I can’t go my entire life without talking to men, but for now, I’m willing to avoid it as much as I can.

 

 

After

​Now that I’m ashes and bones, talk about me.

Tell everyone how I was your whole world and you loved me. Talk about the times I made you so happy you could die. Play my favorite songs and say how you never thought I’d leave. Hear them tell you the lies you wish to hear right now, how it’s not your fault and that you shouldn’t feel guilty. Let the people you hate comfort you in your time of need. Give the speech you wrote. Oh, say those words like you mean them. Like you really did love me. Like you never could live without me. Like you’ll miss me.

Flaunt the curve of your lips and hear the best applause you’ll ever get. Shed a tear or two, to make your words more believable as the people start to leave.

Go home and get as drunk as humanly possible on your fucking guilt. Place my ashes on the mantle so I’ll always be before your eyes. Write a letter to me with hands that can’t stand still and then burn it because that’s the only way I’ll ever know what you felt.

Cry and scream my name so hard you can never say anyone else’s name ever again. Oh, yes, beg me to come back to life. Fall on your knees in front of God and cry for mercy, like I did. Ask him to bring me back to you and feel him reject you, like I did. 

Lie to my God and tell Him you’ll change. Lie your fucking ass off, come one. Make your lies so convincing that you fool yourself. Lie, fucker, lie and scream so damn loud that The Devil shakes in hell.  Deny your crimes so hard that they almost turn true. 


Now you’re asleep and yet you can see me. You hear me and I’m so deep in your fucking head that you think you can smell the crook of my neck. You can reach for me, be so close and yet not enough to touch me. You understand me now, yeah. You can see it through me and you fucked me up. You can feel my pain and hear my pleas. That chill down the spine? Get used to it, because it’ll haunt you till the day you join me. 

I should know.

Your fate is that you’ll love me more than you ever did. You’ll miss me so hard it’ll burn through your gut. You’ll see me everywhere you go, in every conversation you ever have. In the pretty faces of those around you to every thought you ever have. I’ll be there.  To remind you what you did to someone who only ever loved you. 

But now that I’m dead, at least you love me.


Cut off

I’ve been having a rough time lately.

Issues that I’d thought I’d resolved have come back up to haunt me all over again. My self esteem is at an all time low ever since a girl decided to rip me apart one by one. It’s not about validation. I don’t need some dudes telling me I’m pretty and what not. Flattery is not an answer to anything. But whatever, there’s no solution to that problem.

Then there’s another problem that has been bugging me. My education. What the fuck am I going to do about that, man? I can’t be a lawyer. I’ll be the worst lawyer this world has ever seen and I’m not even exaggerating. I’m someone who cries when someone yells at me, how the fuck do you expect me to face another attorney in a courtroom? Also, every single time I sit down to study Constitutional Law, it makes me want to throw up. There was this chance that I could transfer somewhere from the 5th semester but my stupid university cancelled all exams until further notice. If I want a transfer it’ll have to be in 3rd semester, setting me back by a year again. I can’t keep losing years like this or I’ll be 30 and still doing my graduation.  I don’t even the backup plan that every girl has; to get married. Because let’s be real, I’m not even proper human material, let alone wife material. I have no choice but to make something of myself and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen if I keep wasting years like they’re seconds. If you ask me what I’m good at? Well, nothing really. I can read and watch an absurd amount but that’s about the end of my intellectual prowess. So you see, I’m fucked in all places all at once.  To quote a friend, “I feel like I’ve taken more loads than Sasha Grey.”

I don’t even have the solace of feeling like this is Karma getting back at me. I’ve done my time. Karma has had its due. We’re even. My only saving grace is the hope that the world will end before all this happens. Or I’ll die somehow, if not then I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I tried traveling but even that didn’t work. All it did was leave me bankrupt for the rest of the month and gave me tan lines so sharp they could kill. It wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, yeah, hanging out by the ocean drinking cold beer is fun. Watching cute boys in the water without shirts is more fun. Smoking pot with some of  and trying to speak Portuguese is priceless. But what’s the point of any of it when you’re hundreds of miles away but you’re still thinking all the same things? 

I don’t go out a lot, either. Because I had an epiphany while I was off getting sunburned. I didn’t take my phone because it’s fucking useless. I took another one to click pictures and support my recent addiction to Boomerang. I didn’t tell anyone I was going because whenever I speak about something I’m going to do, it doesn’t happen.  It was being somewhat off the radar that I realized that not everyone I think is my friend, is actually my friend. Yeah, I know a lot of people but they’re not my friends. I realized they only ever called me when they needed something.  I don’t need anything from anyone other than their company. It sucked to realize that more than half the people only ever called me or remembered me when they needed something, and that they don’t actually care about me. I’m done calling people my friend when they’re actually not. They’re just the people that I know. I don’t have a problem being there for someone when they need me or helping them out with something. But I just expect them to be there for me, too.  That’s it. When I’m there for you at 4 in the morning, the least you can do is not ignore my texts. I’m done letting people walk all over me. I’m nice but I’m not fucking stupid.  It’s not even exaggerated expectation because there are a few people who call me even when they don’t need anything.

Radhika calls me just to tell me a joke or she just comes over wherever I am to simply hang out. Diksha calls me to tell me what all she did that day from waking up to going to pee. To be honest, they’re the only family I have. I don’t think expecting someone to just be there for me is too much. So since they don’t give a fuck then even I’ve decided not to. Like I said, I’m nice but not stupid. 

Don’t even get me started on boys. I’m just done with that altogether. I have enough issues without adding “boy” trouble to that.

Then there’s my dumb body which can’t run itself properly. I take vitamins, I take protein and I eat so much all the time. I still don’t gain weight. My face has become so ashy grey that I think it’s going to crumble if I go out in the wind. I have zero stamina to speak of. Then there are my ovaries who can’t behave themselves. It’s so fucking frustrating not having my period for almost a year now. Back in January I thought something happened but it was like only 2 days. The reports come up normal so I don’t know why is this happening. Am I pregnant? Am I dying? What’s happening down there, God? It was never my plan to have kids but it wasn’t in my plan to grow a mustache, either. Then there’s sleeping. I’ve been having so bizarre dreams that you wouldn’t believe.  So bizarre and so vivid that I’m not sure if it actually happened or not. I was jumping off a rock and into an ocean in one (Which isn’t possible because I can’t fucking swim) and in one I was having dinner with a family that I don’t think remembers me anymore. Then I keep waking up every few hours. So I’m seriously depressed, really anxious, malnourished and sleep deprived all at once.

 It sucks being me right now.

So you see, I’ve had a depressing month and I don’t think it’s getting better anytime soon. 

It’s time

You deserve more

It’s a terrifying thing to loose touch with the one thing you want, I know. But sometimes it’s better to focus on growing rather than doing the same thing again and again that brings your progress down to square one. 

You deserve normalcy. 

You deserve all the cheesy things that you think are lame. 

You deserve more than what you’re getting and I hope you stand up for it.

It’s about time. 

It’s a rant

I’m suicidal.

Apparently there’s something wrong with that. But let’s be honest, who isn’t?  Who hasn’t at least once thought about ending their lives? Everyone is suicidal at some level or the other, I just happen to be at the pro version.

I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like having to explain why I’m in a place where the future doesn’t exist for me. I don’t like to talk about coping mechanisms that I’ve adopted. This whole dying thing, I don’t talk about to anyone.

Believe it or not, a pot dealer gave me some great advice. Now that I think about it, he’s a pretty nice guy. So he told me that it’s better to write these feelings down. Not because they’ll help, but because after you die and people find these logs, they’ll feel awful for the rest of their lives. I like the sound of that. Not everyone, obviously. Just the ones who have driven me to the point of dying. Ironically, they’re the ones who are also responsible for me being alive.

Another idiot told me that if I go through with this, I should think about how bad my family will feel. Well, they better feel pretty damn bad. It’ll change them forever? Thank goodness. I don’t want my life to end in vain. I hold no love for my family. It died the day they told me that I had to become a lawyer, even if it took 10 years or even if it killed me. If you think I’m a monster for not loving my own mother then go ahead. I’m the worst creature to ever walk the Earth. If I had a kid who was already dying out of anxiety and stress, I wouldn’t drop the pressure on them to become something that they don’t want. I’ve had tough love my whole life. I’ll admit, it made me tough. But I’m no longer that strong. For once I’d like to be loved as a child should.

The worst part is, they know what I do. They know that I sliced my wrists open. They know I bled for a long, long time. They know that the reason I want to die. They know everything. Yet no one came to me to ask why were there bloodied clothes in the garbage. No one asked me why there were gashes on my wrists. No one asked, so I told no one. So when I die, I do want then to feel bad. Maybe they won’t do the same thing to my brother. Maybe he’ll benefit the most from my death.

I really thought that would be the day I’d end it. It didn’t take courage. All it took was a blade. I had a letter written out. Actually, three. One for my family. One for Diksha and one for Radhika. In them I wrote who gets my stuff.( For the record, no one gets my Louboutins. They go with me.)

It wasn’t God’s plan to make me die. I mean after an hour or so of bleeding you’d think the 5litres would run out. But apparently not. Fuck it, I didn’t even get dizzy. I only cried because on my laptop Netflix was playing S5 finale of Supernatural and it was a pretty sad scene. My poor Winchesters babies. (Yes, even when I thought I was dying it was Supernatural I was thinking about. Fuck you, too)

Needless to say, I didn’t die that day. I made a hell of a mess but I didn’t stop breathing. I’m still fucking alive, obviously.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to sound like someone who’s pathetic and needs help. I can still hold my own, thank you very much. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to listen to pot dealers, after all.

And I swear to The Hol Trinity that if someone tells me “You’re just 20 years old, you still have prospects,” or “You’re a kid and this is just a tantrum and you know nothing of real pain” I’ll throw a pan in their stupid face and then they’ll know what real pain is. Just because other people have it worse than me doesn’t mean I’m not relevant. I know everyone’s suffering. I know everyone feels like this. But I’m not everyone. I’m running on fumes here. If other people still have fires left, it’s because they’re made of stronger stuff than I am. Do not start preaching to me otherwise I’ll pull your guts out through your throat. (Fandom references all over.)

I’m still kinda sorta fine, because I have no other choice. I’m done trying to die because, I tried and it didn’t work. It’s not God’s will to put me out of my suffering just yet. My will wasn’t to make it to December 2016. But again, I’m just a human.

Maybe my lack of affection towards people is the reason I want to die. I mean I’m not completely out of touch with my human side. I still care about my family. I do what they say. I have friends. I help anyone who asks. I hold no grudges. I don’t hate anyone. But I don’t actually love anyone either. I don’t think I have it in me anymore to love another person. Be it my own blood or otherwise.

As for my coping mechanisms, it’s dark humour, cigarettes and Netflix. That’s it. I’m running on Internet and Smoke.

If there’s a light at the end if the tunnel, I don’t see it yet. And until I do, I’m not about to change a thing.

God, why?

See I don’t usually do this thing that I did, so know that when I did this, I put a lot of thought into it. 

I’m 20 years old, I’m not a kid or some poor naive girl someone took advantage of. No. I did this completely on my own, after putting days of thought into it. 

I did something that I can’t believe I did.

I kissed someone who I didn’t know very well at all. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done in my life. It sucked ass. It was horrible and all the while I was just concentrating on not throwing up. 

It was the first time in my life I went on a legit date, the kind I’ve only read about. The dude was nice and basically Adonis come again. I mean I didn’t have any high expectations, but I didn’t expect it to be disgusting. I’ve had my “fireworks” and I know it won’t happen again, but I could at least expect it to not suck. 

The worst part is that the there was nothing wrong with the guy himself. He didn’t do anything wrong. My stupid mind fucked everything up. 

I thought I was ready to do this crap again. I thought I’d made ny peace with everything but apparently not. I am far from ready to move on. Really far. Like million miles away kind of far. 

It was so embarrassing on so many levels. I had to get out of there and it was basically the most humiliated I’ve ever been. Why, Jesus, why?! 

I really don’t know how long I can keep this up. There has to come a point when I have to stop being pathetic. I don’t like being alone, okay? I don’t want to be one if those women who lead a loveless life and die with dogs. I don’t need anyone but I don’t do so well one. 

Maybe I’ll try again later. After scrubbing myself with Holy Water, that is. 

Never 

// Just a little out of reach, that’s where you are. I can see you but not touch you. I can breathe you but I can’t feel you. I love you yet I can’t tell you. You’re mine but I can’t have you. 

They say don’t let your happiness depend on one person. They’re so fucking wrong. My life starts and ends with you. You are my happiness and my grief. You are my pleasure and my pain. I’m grateful that you’re all I have, even if I don’t have you. 

But God forbid if we should both have what we want. God forbid, if we once don’t listen to reason. Still, let’s sin as much as we can, let’s defy fate, because you are my God. You are whom I pray to. Let’s find parts of each other we didn’t know existed. I’d rather be demolished by you than be rebuilt by someone else. You’re what holds me together. It’s only fitting you be what destroys me. 

It isn’t real, life keeps reminding me. Over and over again I fall for something that’s not even real and over and over again I’m hooked deeper than before. 



If you’re what weakness feels like, then I don’t ever want to be strong again. //




Vow.

This post was published sometime around August’15. It got deleted and I managed to forget all about it like a complete ass. So here it is again, with little finishing twitches here and there and the concept has been borrowed from Tumblr. I read something like this and thought to try my hand at this.

7am: I wake up from a dream about you. I hate myself for having that dream for about 5 minutes then I jump into the shower.

7:15 am: I check my phone and there’s still no word from you. I throw the phone roughly on the bed and get ready for work.

1pm: I’ve drowned in work so I don’t think about you. But damn it to hell, nothing works. I can still smell you from the dream.

3pm: I eat lunch with a friend. Your name comes up and my stomach drops all the way to Satan’s cage. I lie and say whatever you do doesn’t concern me. I lie and say that I’m over you.

7pm: I come back to an empty home and the air gets heavier and more difficult to breathe. I take my phone out and read old messages to torture myself.

8pm: I have no idea how the bottle of water in my hand turned into a glass of whiskey. I read an old text which cuts me open from shoulder to waist in one stroke and I gasp for air.

8:30pm: The books you bought for me taunt me through the shelf while I make dinner for one. At this point, I’m ready to burn them to ashes and burn those ashes again. But I know I won’t, because I’ll desperately cling on to any memory of you.

9pm: TV seems stupid. Social media seems stupid. Laughing seems stupid. Breathing seems stupid. Stupid seems stupider. The only thing that doesn’t seem stupid is that I need you. I didn’t think I’d need you like this. I didn’t think that I’d stop existing if you left. But what’s the point? You already did, and you left those fucking memories.

10pm: Last night’s dream comes to mind, and I give into it. I give into the feeling of you touching me. The way you curse, the way you grind your teeth together in lust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you can’t handle any more, the feel of your cool lips against mine when you first kissed me, the taste of your blood when I bit your lip a little too hard. It fucks me up further to realize that you literally run in my bloodstream.

11pm: it seems like it’ll be an age before I hit the call button on my phone. Why should I call you? You made it clear that you don’t care then why should I?

2am: I figure out the answer. Because you’re the only one I could feel. Because I’ve tried fucking my way out of an empty heart but it doesn’t work. Because none of them could make me feel what you did with your mere words.

3am: I’m praying to every god I can think of to bring me a time machine.

4am: My phone rings and I know it’s you because….I don’t even have a reason how. All I know is that it’s you. I answer the call because I don’t see logic when it comes to you. I don’t see reason, or ways, or plans. And it hurt like shit when you chose logic. But then again, what’s the point? I’ll continue not seeing logic and you’ll continue following it.

4:05am: I invite you in.

6am: You’ve set me back to square one. Whatever little progress I’d made has been reduced to dust. You leave without a word. You don’t even look back. You don’t even say my name once. I make a solemn vow to myself to never let you in again, knowing that whenever, if at all, you call again, I’ll go running back to you.

7am: I laugh at myself. My arrogance got the better of me. What I thought could never break me has shattered me to pieces. I get up from the bed and start getting ready to spend yet another day in this mayhem we call “world”

He won’t, would He?

I read “Adultery” a few days back. It was a dear gift I received a year back on my 18th birthday. I never had the time to read it until two weeks ago. The moment I started reading it, I couldn’t put it down. It was so spot on, it was a little scary.

There was this one thing that hooked me. In the book, when the Protagonist is lost, she leaves herself to the wishes of God. She completely surrenders herself instead of resisting her urges. She does a lot of awful things, confesses to more disturbing details. She cheats on her husband repeatedly. She tries to plant cocaine on the wife of the guy she’s having the affair with. There’s nothing but monotony that’s bothering her. Her routine is what ails her. She has no reason to be sad, but she’s still miserable. She asks the same thing to herself. “Why am I this way? Why am I unhappy?”

She goes through all this with just one thing in her mind. “God will guide me. He won’t let me suffer for nothing.” 

In the end, things work out on her favor. Her husband still wants to be with her. Her kids love her no less. Her life is good again. 

He won’t let me suffer for nothing.

But what if He does? What if God isn’t there to guide me? What if all my suffering and redemption bring me no closer to peace? How can anyone say for absolute certainty that after suffering there awaits compassion? Yes, I know it’s a leap of faith we have to take. I know that. That’s all I’ve been doing for the past year. My world was turned upside down, but I somehow managed to come out the other side. But I’m still suffering. I don’t want this…all of this…to be for naught. 

So I guess I have to surrender myself, too. I have to see things out and know for sure. I can’t keep half-assing anymore. I’ll just have to believe that all this means something. Everything is working it’s way to make things better for me. 

And if not, then who am I to go against God’s plan?