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YOU ARE THE REASON
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@messofscatteredthoughts
Introverts With Social Anxiety - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
You May Continue Your Search - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Pace - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Everytime I Lose Faith in Humanity - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Extinction - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Did He Hear It In The Silence? - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
On Mortality and Death - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Untill Then, Count Your Breaths in Peace - Asavari Sharma www.instagram.com/asavarisharma
Transgression
âWe love only once in our lifetimeâ âYou just have to wait for the right oneâ What about all the people whom we think we âlovedâ at one point of time? It is a common ordeal for us humans to get in and out of relationships and wear our passions âlike the fashion of our hatâ (Quoted: Shakespeare) What is ironic is that we dismiss all our love interests that did not seem to work out as the ânot-right oneâ (for lack of a better word). The idea of once in a lifetime love and the notion of the âright oneâ is just a garb to shroud all the failure that we have met with in âloveâ. Love is probably the most talked of subject. It is an idea that hopeless romantics, like you and I, cling on to. An idea that is widely sensationalised. An idea that is cashed in on by many, be it writers or filmmakers. It even proves instrumental as strategies in product marketing. The idea of âloveâ has pervaded every facet of human life. But, really, what is it? Is it really what we make it out to be? I speak on my behalf when I say that itâs probably just manifestations of our likes and dislikes in varying degrees. Our likes are something that are malleable. We adjust and readjust them from time to time and that is okay as long as weâre not injuring anyoneâs feelings. On looking back at a failed relationship we often tend to say, âIt wasnât loveâ and âHe/she wasnât the right one.â This cycle continues until we find the last person that stays with us till the end of our life. Another characteristic feature of love is its transience. Contrary to popular belief, love is as fleeting as our passions. It ends in two ways, either when a person by their own choice falls out of love or when a person dies. Of course, you could argue that even after death love lives on. But the fact that people do move on needs to be taken into account. We really canât predict a stable, long and contented life with one person. People get married, but is there a guarantee that they will remain with their beloved till the end of one of their lives? Of course there isnât. It is only the dying man that realises who his truest love has been. Transgressions in love occur. We fall out of âloveâ and then hearts are broken and tears are shed. But we move on to find others. Others who probably heal us, complete us and make us whole. This probably happens a few more times before we settle into a stable position. Life doesnât remain static. Of course, âchange is the only constant.â We come across a number of people and all of them occupy the space of that âright personâ for some period of time in our lives in their own unique ways. So, to say that we love only once in our lifetime is a fallacy. We love as many times as our heart yields to passion.
7 Reasons Why Itâs Hard Being a Poet
1. We are critical. We find flaws in everything we see because nobody wants to write about perfection, even though sometimes we wish we could just stay staring into that unblemished surface. 2. We are never satisfied. We live our lives upon mountains of scrunched up bits of refill and ideas we gave up trying to express. 3. We never forget. We write words about eye contact made three months ago that we replay over and over in our minds even though it stopped being relevant. 4. We are fickle. Our emotions flash from one to the other like strobe lighting that disorientates us until we feel as if the world will never be still. 5. We are exposed. We donât know how to keep our feelings to ourselves so weâll write them down for you to find âaccidentallyâ. 6. We are vulnerable. We wear our hearts on our sleeves and wonât lift a muscle to fight back if somebody tries to break it because we thrive from the pain. 7. We will never stop. We will never stop feeling and we will never stop hurting, we will never stop breaking and bleeding and loving even though the cycle is endless and we know whatâs coming next. We are addicted to agony, but we agonise for the art.
Covered it
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My thoughts are my chapped lips and tangled hair: raw, crude, wayward and unfinished. /AS//
Sometimes, itâs just about finding beginnings in endings or hellos in goodbyes.
//AS//