Hello! Welcome to this side blog where I will post stuff I write (and think) into the void. I just wanna get into the habit of writing again so yeah.
My tags:
maewrites (for stuff I write)
maethinks (for stuff I think) (u know, like methinks but itâs maethinks, sorry Iâll stop)
What I write about:
1. I like writing short stories with an unpredictable ending (but sometimes they are predictable)
2. Sometimes, I write a few lines which make an impact and try to make my friends interested and invested but then I forget about it-
3. I currently have a WIP driven by the thought of a homoerotic sword-fighting scene (it was supposed to be childhood best friends to enemies to friends to lovers but honestly Iâm not feeling it and just want them to be friends again instead of lovers) i lost of all of it coz my laptop got formatted, so yeah.
4. I want to write about a found family mostly for my own comfort
5. The genres I write in are mostly slice of life, fantasy, fiction, adventure, romance, mystery, young adult fiction, etc.Â
She didnât like heights. It wasnât that she feared them. She just didnât like the way it made people feel a little bit superior than the ones on the ground.
People on roofs, on top of buildings, in an aeroplane, some part of them always felt the feeling of being better than the people on the ground. Hence, everyone wanted to experience that, except her.
She had always felt like an outcast, her thoughts were peculiar. Everyone wanted to travel in airplanes, she was fine walking to the ends of the Earth.
She had questioned herself several times. Did she really not want to travel in an airplane? Why did she not want to if she had never tried it? These thoughts took up most of her free time, often distracting her from walking in a straight line.
One day, the airplane she knew since she was a mere child, had passed over her house, ridiculously close. She knew it was the same airplane because there was no other like it. She had memorised the colour of its wings, the slight dent in the front, and the way one of the windows was slightly skewed. She didnât have super vision or anything, she had just seen it closer than anyone had.
The airplane kept flying closer and closer to her house with every passing day. She felt something, she didnât know what to call it, but suddenly she wanted to know what it felt like to fly, what it felt like to be on a higher ground and look at people passing by beneath her. Would she think of it as a privilege? A way to think of herself as better than the others? It was scary, to think of it.
A few days later, the plane stopped right in front of her house, as if it had heard the wish she had wished for silently. She got on the plane. The plane went in the air. It felt⊠nice. She didnât know, she was unsure of how she felt. The thought of people passing by on the roads didnât even cross her mind, she did not feel superior. As if sensing her discomfort, the plane flew a little lower than it should have.
She wanted to try again, and again, and again, until one day, the plane was almost touching the ground because it had flown lower and lower until she could adjust and figure out what she was feeling about flying. She noticed the planeâs distress too, she hated herself for being the reason the plane had to sacrifice so much. 3 months had passed, she still felt conflicted, as the plane grew tired, or at least thatâs what she understood. What the plane was feeling was for it to tell, but it didnât.
The plane stopped coming, and she hadnât expected herself to feel relieved. She hated herself, she never liked heights, she never should have tried to fly if she knew it. She wished she could say sorry to the plane, but all she could say was hi and hello as she saw it pass by in the sky, soaring high above the clouds, but the turbulence was her fault.
On a chilly winter evening, she passed his house again. Technically she didnât know the person who lived there was a âheâ until recently.
Letâs go back to a warm summer evening, shall we?
She didnât know the day, date, or month when she first passed the house on her way to her class, she just knew that she was in her car, and she happened to look out the window and see a house.
It was on the first floor of an apartment she had passed hundreds of times, but something about it intrigued her. The windows were clear, and she could see the warm lights in the room. The ceiling was crafted in intricate geometric shapes that made her want to stare at them for hours.Â
The next day and the days after, she involuntarily looked out the window whenever she passed the house with the pretty lights. Some days half the lights were on, while some, none were on. She was an observer, always seeing, but never wishing to be seen.
Days passed by, summer evenings turned rainy, and then finally cold. The house next to it started renovation, She kept seeing it's progress day after day.
One similar winter evening, she looked out her car window and caught a glimpse of a boy her age standing with the window pushed open. His dark hair was curly, and his eyes were brown, the same as hers. He was talking on the phone.
She passed the house and reached her destination only to realise two things- one, that she now had a face to associate with the house with the pretty lights, and two, the face was more interesting than the house with the pretty lights.
The youngest talks a lot, and keeps herself busy with various things at once.
The youngest mostly keeps things to herself and tries to figure out things on her own.
The youngest falls down, but gets back up again.
The youngest cries a lot, gets called weak a lot, for them everything and everyone is just a lot.
That day the youngest and her family dropped her sister off at the airport.
The youngest didn't cry, everyone else did. They only wished their sister well.
The youngest is not heartless, if you had heard her sniffles and cries later that night in the safe darkness of her room because there would be no one sleeping beside her for a while,you wouldn't say that.
She woke up and put her mask on
Morning and afternoon,
The sun rays kissed her face
Only to be restricted by the mask she wore
"Why?", The sun asked her
She stayed silent, her eyes threatening to spill
In the evening she gave it a rest
And took her mask off
She sang, she danced, and she wrote
At night she went outside,
And let the starlight shine on her body
Her lips held a faint smile
She reached out with her hands as if she could touch the moon
"Why?", The moon asked her
"I love you, even with all your imperfections, you shine so brightly", she replied
"I only shine because of the stars", the moon told her
She looked at the stars twinkling against the dark sky
"The stars are beautiful", she breathed
âI wish I were that beautifulâ, she whispers inwardly
âWhy?â, the stars asked
âBecause that is the sad reality of the world,
Weâre born beautiful, but we are convinced we are notâ
The night was her safe place
When no one could see her
And she could turn off the light in her room
To stay away from the mirror
Always looming around the corner
Whispering to her
To look at herself in the harsh light
And discover new flaws
As her mind goes farther and farther
Into the dark corner, she has been living in.
âMoon dust in your lungs, stars in your eyes, you are the child of the cosmos, a ruler of the skies.â
When he first heard these words, he was crying in the cradle in his room in the middle of the night as his mother tried to silence him, rocking him back and forth, pressing soft kisses on his head as she calmed him down. She whispered these words to him as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
The second time he heard these words, his mom made his favourite food- falafel burritos with lemonade. It was his sixth birthday, and his mom wished him and ruffled his hair. He asked her to tell him her favourite poem. He was young and curious and had recently found out his motherâs one true love was words, in any form, in any shape, just words. She smiled as she said the words, now engraved in his mind.
The third time he heard these words, he was in literature class, he was 16, going through his reading for the day when his teacher started talking about anonymous poets and poetry. He heard his teacher say the first word and involuntarily continued the poem. Silence filled the room once he was done, he looked around in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed. He didnât speak the entire day.
The fourth and last time he heard these words was when he was on his deathbed. He had lived a life full of pleasure and pain and was now 83, He was sitting in his bed and drinking water when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, he dropped the glass, and it shattered on the floor as he was swept into a fit of coughs. He fell to the ground, and his daughter came into the room and cried out. She frantically tried to make him sit up and drink water, but he couldnât breathe, he couldnât move, he couldnât do anything but cough as the breath went out from him. His eyes fixed on the white lights on his ceiling as his daughter said the words, tears streaming down her face as she closed his eyes.
The next time he heard the words, he was between life and death.
Darkness. Total blackness, like a night with no stars, and the moon hidden behind the clouds. He saw the light. He reached towards it, but something pulled him back. He tried to fight it, but his body was getting farther and farther away from the light. And then, darkness, again.
And the next to next time he heard these words, he was crying in his cradle, his mother rolling her eyes at her son, drinking from her wine glass and screaming at him to shut up.
This is a continuation to something I posted before, called friendship. So here it goes
Aradhya ticked another day off the calendar hanging on her wall and sighed. Only one month left before she went and started a new journey. University. It felt like a big thing- it was a big thing, something which would alter her life forever.Â
She turned away from the calendar and walked towards her bed. It wasn't that late but she didn't have anything to do so she decided to sleep. She was doing her skincare when she heard a thump, she poked her head out of the bathroom to see, but nothing was out of the ordinary. She squinted her eyes in suspicion as she returned to what she was doing. There was another thump now, she cursed and left her skincare in between, washed her hands and decided to investigate.
She stood in her room now, hands on her hips, as she looked around. Then, there it was again, it was coming from the balcony, her heart skipped a beat as she thought of all the possibilities. Could there be a cat? Or some other animal? A thief? A MURDERER? She pushed the thoughts down and walked towards the balcony.
She opened the door to a pebble hitting her right on the head, and screamed, then realised that other people lived there, put her hand on her mouth and screamed again, the sound now muffled. She looked down and saw Adi waving at her with an unwavering smile and cursed out loud.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â, she asked him, while closing the balcony door, hoping nobody in her neighbourhood woke up.Â
âCome down and Iâll tell youâ, he said, gesturing to the ladder on the side of her balcony which had been there since the first time she had snuck out to meet him at the stupid age of 13.
âNoâ, she said simply, crossing her arms. She probably looked stupid and not intimidating with her big shirt, shorts, fluffy bunny slippers and the cat ear headband she used to push her hair out of her face while she did her skincare, but she didnât care.
âOh come on, I came all the way here and youâre not even gonna ask why?â, he said.
âI did ask, you told me to come down, and I said no.â, she deadpanned. âYou think you can just come here at 10 pm, throw pebbles at my balcony door, and expect to not re-enact the Romeo and Juliet scene?
âOh my godâ, he said, putting his head in his hands. âIâm pretty sure Romeo and Juliet didnât have this scene because balconies werenât even invented back thenâ, as always correcting her about theatre facts.
âWell, you know the trope, so come on, make your own linesâ, she said, getting in position.
âUgh, why are we friends?â, he asked but shook his head and cleared his throat.
âAradhya, Oh Aradhya, let down your hairâŠ, oh wait thatâs from Rapunzelâ, he said, confusion visible in his eyes.
Ara touched her hair which almost reached her shoulders, and decided to control her laughter.
âAcha, arz kiya hai...â
âIrshaadâ, she said, impressed by the dedication.
âKuch karo fikar mujh deewane ki, dhum hai fir bahar aane kiâ, he said with a bow.
âThatâs from Layla and Majnunâ, she said, remembering the time he used to make her remember his favourite quotes.
âYou know Iâm not good at impromptu stuff and this bow is very uncomfortable so if you would please hurry up and say something back, that would be amazing, thanksâ, he said, his voice strained from the bow.
âI love you to the moon and to Saturnâ, she said in the same loving tone and did a little bow for good measure.
âThatâs literally a Taylor Swift lyricâ, he said, now standing straight.
âI thought there were no restraints on poetryâ, she said, as she went inside her room, got her phone, and keys, took the hairband off and put on her shoes.
âWell technically but-â, he started as she climbed down the ladder, but she stopped him with the finger.
âShall we go now?â, he asked with the same mock bow as before, she slapped him on the head and ran away laughing as he tried to catch up.
âŠ
âNow tell me, what made you think of me at this time?â, she asked him as they walked.
âWell, since youâre going to England to live with the colonizers, which was a joke for legal reasons. As I was saying, Iâm going to make this your most memorable month, starting with today.â
âFair enough, she said, âwhere are we going though?â
âAradhyaâ, he faced her now, the excitement visible in his eyes, âWe are going to get tattoosâ
âWhoa whoa waitâ, she stopped him there, âthis is a big deal and well I havenât asked my parents.
âWell, you turned 18 last Friday, so technically you donât need parental consent, besides, didnât you literally ask them that day?â, he asked.
âYouâre right, and I have wanted to get a tattoo since forever.â, she thought about it, and remembered asking her parents about it last week, they had been cool about it and said she could get it done now that she was 18.Â
âWell, any ideas then?â, she asked him as they started walking once again.
âOh yes, I have a Vision with a capital Vâ, he said waving his hands around, as if he was trying to make her see what he had in mind with invisible diagrams in the air.
âSo Iâm gonna go in there, and get a SpongeBob tattoo on my ass and guess which quote Iâm gonna useâ, he wiggled his eyebrows at her.
She laughed and said âOh my god, please donât tell me youâre for realâ
âIâm serious, come on guessâ, he told her but he was laughing too.
âThe smell oneâ, she guessed.
âBINGOâ, he shouted, and decided to quote the line, ââDid you smell it? That smell. A kind of smelly smell. The smelly smell that smells...smelly.â, is literally the most iconic thing Mr. Krabs said actually.â
They doubled over with laughter and when they finally calmed down, they talked about how Adi was definitely not doing that.
âYou know what we should do?, she said, âWe should not tell the other what weâre getting and do a grand reveal later. I think this is both a terrible and a great idea, what do you think?â
âHmm, letâs see how this goesâ, he said as they entered the tattoo parlour.
Thatâs how an hour later, they were both outside the tattoo place with a bandage covering their new tattoos, eager to see what the other got.
âSo how are we doing this, do we count to three?â, Adi asked.
âLetâs just ârip the bandage offââ, she said, trying for some humour.
âThat was so lameâ, he told her and said, âOoh okay wait, how about we take each otherâs bandage off?â
âAt the same time thoughâ, she told him.
Ara had decided to get her tattoo above her collarbone, and Adi had gone for the side of the neck. They closed their eyes and took the bandages off.
â1âŠ2âŠ3â, Ara counted, and they opened their eyes.
âIs that-â, they both started, shocked.
âYou go firstâ, Ara said.
âCan I touch it?â, he asked
âGo onâ, she said.
He touched the tattoo and her eyes fluttered close. He breathed out and looked at her. âPlease tell me this is what I think it isâ, he said.
âRemember when you took that Taylor Swift lyric literally and drew actual stars around the scar I got from a glass on this same place? Well, I took a picture of them at that time so I had it with me right now.â, she told him. The scar was still there, but now there were permanent stars around it, all of different shapes and sizes, they looked like the night sky.
âWell you had just introduced me to her and even now after all these years, Iâm telling you, Folklore is her best album yet but youâre still stuck up on Speak now.â, he told her.
âI will not tolerate this slander towards my purple heavenâ, she faked being offended.Â
âWell, your turn nowâ, he said, getting back on the topic.
âCan I touch it?â, she asked.
âOf course, why would you even ask?â, he said.
âWell you asked, so I thought I better ask tooâ, she said.
She touched the crescent moon, her drawing as familiar to her as the back of her hand. The moon had two heart-shaped craters, and filling the gap and making it a full moon was a daisy, her favourite flower.
âDidnât I draw this for that campaign back in 9th grade?â she asked.Â
âYes well, even if the campaign didnât go well, I loved the design, so even I took a photo of it at that time.
âOur mindsâ, Ara said, tears welling in her eyes.
âHey hey hey, no cryingâ, he told her, but his eyes were full of tears too.
âHug?â, Ara croaked out.
They enveloped each other in a hug, it was times like these when Adi was grateful they were almost the same height because he got to put his armour down and feel safe in her arms. She traced circles on the small of his back, just like he had months ago.
When they were done crying, they broke apart at each other with bloodshot eyes. Ara took his hands in hers and started to say something but Adi beat her to it.
âThe moon might find its sun somedayâ, he whispered.
âAnd the stars might find their galaxyâ, she whispered back, closing her eyes.
âBut theyâll never forgetâ, he continued.
âThe universe they builtâ, she opened her eyes now, holding his gaze with hers.
âTogetherâ, they whispered at the same time.Â
They stood there in silence, looking at each other. This lasted for 5 long seconds and then-
Laughter. Incoherent, deranged laughter.
âWhy are we so cheesy, oh my godâ, Adi said, tears streaming down his face as he laughed.
Ara was doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach, it was starting to hurt now with the way she could not stop laughing.
They calmed down, and though it took 3 tries, they were walking back to her house now, infectious smiles on their faces.Â
Somewhere in the way, Adi slowed down, the smile fading from his face. They stopped at a streetlight. âYou know, maybe the stars wonât find their galaxy, maybe- maybe they're better off aloneâ, he said, his face serious now.
âI knowâ, Ara looked at him softly, understanding visible in her eyes. âAnd thatâs absolutely fine, so donât let anyone tell you otherwiseâ, she hugged him again as he closed his eyes and let himself feel safe again.
You painted my nights golden, a colour it's not supposed to be, a colour i only associate with you, a colour I've come to love, and to hate. I want my nights to be dark, let them be dark again, let me forget, let me forget you, if i can't forgive you.
Where do I belong? Do I belong at home with my family? A very loving family; the mother knows nothing about her children, the father is always disappointed in them, the sister is always in her own world, with more problems than anyone in the house, and the grandfather who has closed up on himself and spends hours away from home since his wife died.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with my friends? The friends who show me so much affection but I think I donât deserve it, so I push them away. The friends who I have not talked to in a while, but still think about sometimes. The friends who I would I do everything for, the friends I love with my whole heart. The friends who sometimes donât remember if Iâm still there with them, still walking beside them until I drift away and will them, beg them to turn, to remember, but they donât, so I drift farther away till I canât remember if I was still walking with them.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with the nerds or the overachievers? Always looking for academic validation because they canât aim for anything less, mostly because of their own mind. Overthinking about every assignment not submitted yet, anxious over every work kept for the next day.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with the quiet kids in class? Always in their own thoughts, enjoying their own company, only talking when necessary or spoken to. Always indulging themselves in stuff they love to do, not caring about societyâs expectations or perhaps caring too much, feeling too much, or too little.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with the people who look up to me? Who think of me as a good example of having my life put together, a good sleep schedule, good grades, good nature, good friends, good everything, but donât know I break a little every day, give pieces of myself to people who donât care, let myself think I deserve everything thrown in my way.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with the fun, good-natured people? The ones who would do anything in their power to make people love them, to please them, to be friendly, to try to be optimistic, to try and make people laugh. But Iâm not, my eyes give way that Iâm tired, so tired, of trying to be happy when Iâm not, of laughing and then stopping because the voice in my head says I donât deserve it, of trying to get everyone to like me.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with the overthinkers? The ones whose minds cannot be silent for more than a few minutes, only for them to think somethingâs wrong all over again. The ones who never know how to take compliments, to love people with their full heart, only to realize they would never love them with the same intensity ever, to think of their friendships as a sort of joke for the other person- 'oh look Iâm friends with the nerd lol, sheâs always having doubts about herself itâs so annoying, she constantly opens her heart to everyone kind and then thinks she can protect it when the people come with knives behind their backs'- or at least thatâs what they think.
Where do I belong? Do I belong with nature? So beautiful, so mesmerizing, and looks like something I could never touch, something I would watch from afar, something I love but also hate. The colourful flowers, the smell of rain, the cats licking themselves, the dogs barking, the birds feeding their children, the insects, and so much more. So complex, so different.
Where Do I belong? I donât belong. I am everywhere at once or nowhere at all.
She came in through the heavy white door of the hospital room but she wouldn't meet my eyes. I bit my lip in anticipation, I was concerned. Did the doctors say anything about my condition?
"Hey", I said, slowly sitting up.
"Oh hi", she said, hurrying to help me up.
"Oh it's fine, I can sit up on my own now", I said rejecting her help.
"Listen, I came to apologise to you", she wasn't looking at me, her hands were shaking.
"Hey hey hey, don't you dare apologise to me for something that isn't even your fault. I wasn't looking, and you were busy finding something in your purse. Besides, I'm okay now, the nurse said I'll be discharged in a few days. The accident wasn't that bad. I actually want to thank you, if you weren't there. I wouldn't have reached the hospital in time.", I told her.
"..yeah", she had closed her eyes and was holding her hands so tight that they had turned white.
I reached out to put my hand on top of hers, but she flinched back and I retreated my hands back. "I'm sorry", I said.
"It's fine", she said, still not looking at me.
'Well, I need to go to the bathroom so I hope you don't mind me leaving you here alone", I said, getting up from the bed
"Here, let me help you", she said, holding out her hand to me for support and I took it
"You know, I can't wait to go back home. I miss my parents and my sister", I said, putting some weight on my injured foot.
"Maybe you should stay here a few more days", she said.
"But the doctors said my condition is not that critical, so I can go home and they can give this room to someone who needs it more", I told her, slowly moving towards the bathroom with one of her hands on my waist and the other on my arm.
"Yeah, but just in case...", she said.
"No, I want to go home, as soon as possible", I said firmly.
"But maybe it'll be better for you here-", she started.
I stopped walking, causing her hand on my waist to fall away. I looked at her, and asked, "Do you not want me to go back home?"
"No, it's just-, I'm worried about you", she still wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Look at me", I said. Her hands stilled.
"Look into my eyes", I told her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"I SAID LOOK AT ME", I yelled at her and she flinched.
But she did, she looked at me and I saw tears in her eyes and something else. Regret.
"What is it?", I asked her, searching her face.
"I think", she paused, "it would have been better", she was pronouncing each word carefully, her eyes threatened to spill tears, "if you had just died", her last words hit me like a slap.
I stared at her in absolute horror, as she walked past the heavy doors of the room, leaving me there, weak in my knees.
I stumbled and slumped down the wall, still shocked by what I had heard, when the nurse came in and saw me. His eyes widened as he hurried to lift me and help me back into bed.
"She-", I started, "She just-, she- ", I stuttered, trying to get the words out. I tasted salt in my throat.
"It's alright, just breathe", he said, trying to get me to calm down
When I had calmed down, he asked what happened.
"She wanted me dead", I said, horrified by the words coming out of my mouth.
"That can't be possible miss, she's your friend, she would never do that", he said, going to the table beside my bed to bring out the food tray.
"I swear, she said it", I said, trying to make him understand that I did not hallucinate.
He came into sight with the food tray, there was an apple and a knife on it.
"I think you were hallucinating", he said, putting the tray down and holding the apple in one hand and the knife in the other.
"No, I wasn't- Oh", I said, "did you come here to cut the apple for me", noticing the apple in his hand. "It's okay, I can do that on my own now, my fingers don't shake that much anymore", I said reaching out to him, but he put the apple down, the knife still in his hand.
"Actually", he said, looking at the knife in his hands and turning it around, "I am here because she couldn't do it", he said, the glint visible in his eyes.
Just a heads up, I'm working on something big and very personal so I won't be very active here, or it can be the complete opposite. Maybe the thing I'm working on will make me write more, idk. Just a heads up.
