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Broken (8)

Feels like everything was such a lie. The support, the fact that we'd love each other and be there for each other. I just feel like none of it mattered.

Why did I fall in love with you if you weren't going to stay with me? Why did I deserve that?

Broken (7)

Every day is harder than the last. Every minute every second is harder than the last. I just feel like you hate me and I'm just forcing you to not, but I'm so scared to lose you. I want to tell you how sorry I am, but I'm too scared to ask you to come to me. I want to be able to show you what I feel and how much I want to change this, but I don't know how.

I don't how if you love me. I don't know if you hate me. I don't know anything I'm so lost.

Broken (6)

Words I want to say to you.. so here it goes:

Baby, I'm so sorry. This breakup, the problems that were occurring, all of it... it was my fault. And although I would say otherwise, at the end of it all, I blame myself for everything. Every single thing because I could've done so much better. I know you tried, you tried really hard and I just wouldn't budge. I was stubborn, I was angry, I was clouded. I didn't want to see anything else and it was my fault. Not yours. No, of course I'm not just saying that. I actually mean it. Remember when all it took for you was 3 days to realize something? Yeah. Same. There was so much wrong I did that I couldn't even care to see, and I'm so sorry for that. I really am. I hate myself every second for hurting you in the way I did. That's not me that isn't the person I am. I'm so sorry for every single time I have hurt you, intentionally and unintentionally. I didn't want this to be the outcome.. but somehow I lost perspective. I did. And you slapped me awake just with a few words. I'm nothing like that anymore I'm really not. I can't even imagine being that person. I hate myself, babe. Soooo much. That I just keep seeing your face, your innocent face. With such a pure heart and those eyes. You have been through so much, I don't want to put you through more. The other day I went crazy. When you told me you didn't love me. I know you didn't mean it, but I didn't know at first. And all I kept thinking was.. what's the point in living anymore? I messed up so badly that the man I want to spend my life with hates me.

All I kept seeing were things I'd have to give up, but I forgot to see the things that I'd be gaining. Like.. why can't I give you a family? I failed to tell you that there were times I'd think about it and smile at the fact that you'd make such a good father. And I would love to give that to you. In fact, I want to. I want to be a parent with you. With a child that will come out of me and yeah I'm scared about it, but with you by my side I can do anything.

I failed to tell you that I need you. I don't need anyone so when I tell someone I do I really mean it. I need you, babe. I don't know how to live without you. I can't function without you. Do you know what that feels like? I'm so sorry for hurting you. Please let me fix it.

I want to fix it. I want to start over. I want you to be able to give me my pro's and my con's. Every single one of them. Tell me what is wrong with me, tell me what you hate. Tell me what is fucked up about me, so that I could change that and never be that again. But please.. tell me what you love. Tell me the most amazing things about me, tell me what you fell in love with. So I could be that person. I just want to be so much better because that's what I want to give you.

I want to get to know you again. Your likes and your dislikes. I want to bond with you again. Without anyone on the outside to tell us otherwise. I want growth, I do. Because I truly think we are meant to be with each other. I truly think that I could be the girl to help you build an empire, not the girl who comes back when you have one already. I want to go through the struggles with you because I want to be your greatest support. I want to listen to your fears your insecurities even though you have a hard time expressing it. I wanna show you something that is worth it because we are. Please, let us have that chance. I promise you will never regret it. I promise it won't bring you down. I promise I'll never bring you down. Because I'm not that girl I was before.. I am someone better.

I want to give you everything. My goals are nothing if I don't have you by my side. I want to give you all the happiness in the world. A beautiful home, a wonderful family with two kids and two dogs. I want to give you happiness. I want to fight against all odds with you, and nobody has to know. It's nobody's business. I want to be a better person and I want to be something because of you and for you.

Babe... I love you. You're my best friend. My rock. My inspiration. My strength. My soulmate. I don't know what the stars have in store for us, but I know I will go against all odds to have you be mine. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I know that because I've never felt this before. Never. I just want to make it better, and maybe your rock solid and don't think it's needed. But please just give it a chance, and I can make you feel otherwise. Please give me a chance. I just ask for one. One small chance to show you a huge change. I swear on everything I love.. I won't let you down. I won't let you feel unhappy. Ever. I'll never make you want to say that you don't love me.

If there is one thing I know.. it is that I am madly in love with you. Madly. And I won't stop fighting until I have you. You perfect, and I just want to show you that. I may or may not be crying right now .. but it's because I mean it more than I've meant anything ever. I could lose it all, but I can't lose you.

You once said to me that you don't want to spend my birthday being single. Well, we're supposed to have our two years soon. Just like how you were going to change and I let you, I'm going to change too. I'm going to show you that this will be better. That we won't get in the way of our dreams because I will NEVER do anything you aren't proud of. There are millions of opportunities that I can have, babe. There are. But there is only one of you. I'll show you that we can be each other's strengths. I'll show you that I could be that girl you fell in love with. I've given you chances, please just give me this one. I've never asked for anything so badly in my life.

I love you. So much.

Broken (5)

I am so sorry, for everything. Every single time that I have hurt you and not thought twice about it. For every time that I have blamed you, and not looked at the faults of my own. For being too stubborn and blind sighted by my own anger that, even with good reason, was not justified because I made it worse. I'm sorry for it all. I should've known better.. I should've known so much better. All this time it was me, you know? I was the monster. Now I realize it and I hate myself I really do. Because there was so much love I wanted to give you, but I was waiting for you to give it to me. I should've realized that maybe all this time you just needed more love from me.. instead of making you feel worse. Which I did, I really did.

We all make mistakes. I know I've attacked you for disrespecting me and losing my trust. But I just feel worse because I did it too... I did it much worse.

How do I tell you how sorry I am? How do I tell you how disgusted I feel at myself? How do I tell you how much I hate myself? I am so sorry. Truly from the bottom of my heart.

That is why I am changing. I'm not going to be that girl anymore. I don't want to.. that's not the kind of person I should be. I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I swear on everything that I love and care for... I will never hurt you again.

Broken (4)

I miss you.

I love you.

Please come back.. I'm dying.

Broken (3)

Nothing is the same anymore. Everything around me is foggy, I am trying so hard to find reason within myself. I tried so hard to get rid of the demons, but all of them were in me. They're completely gone.. that's one thing I know. That in just a second I changed into the person I should've been this whole time.

But now I'm something else. I'm lifeless without you. I wait every second for you to talk to me. I accidentally read baby in our sentences to each other just out of habit. I can't eat. I don't want to eat. I just want to torture myself. I think about you so much that I can't sleep, and when I do you end up in my dreams.

What is life without the man I am madly in love with? Misery. It's misery.

Broken (2)

Maybe one of these days I'll be able to handle not saying goodnight to you, and not telling you I love you. Tonight is not one of those nights. I'm itching for you to text me back, but I have to handle that you left me on read.. without me saying anything. I'm so scared to suffocate you.

You left your shirt in my bag, and it smells just like you. I instantly missed the warmth of your hugs around me. Just like how I missed it when I had to wake up next to you on the other side of the bed. Tears went down my face, every single time I looked at you peacefully sleeping while I admired you. Screaming inside and wishing that you could come closer and just hold me. Just to tell me this is all a dream, a really bad one.

I'm tearing up as I think about it right now, but I have so much to say that I can't even express to you.

I miss my baby.

I wanna die right now.

Broken (1)

I think about you every second. When I'm alone and when I'm in a crowd full of loud people. You're right, in so many ways. I can't even begin to explain the things you put into me that made so much sense. And everything just came together.. even though I was/am still fallen apart. We want so many things for ourselves that we have to achieve that before we can ever think about us. And when it comes to us, there is so much that we have to learn from each other. But only after we learn who we are. I don't know where my life will take me, but this is all I know. This is the only thing I'm sure of, and it is this.

That when I look next to me I have you holding my hand and smiling at me. Yes, that smile that makes me melt every single time. With those dimples that could make my heart skip a beat or two. I know I want us, and I am never going to stop until I get it. I want to grow and be the best version of who I am so that I could give you someone who is fucking amazing. Because THAT is what you deserve. I want to give you all the love and support and everything I can give you, and give you the happiest life because that is what you deserve. Yes, we have to be selfish right now. But if there's one reason I'm being selfish it's because at the end of it all you're mine. You will always be mine. I will never stop achieving the best just to show you that. To prove that.

You're such a beautiful person. I couldn't show you enough, but I will. Every day will be growth for me. As a person, as your friend, as your girl, as your wife. I don't ever want to imagine my life without you. You're my rock, my inspiration, the only thing that keeps me going. I never want to lose sight of that, ever in my life.

I love you so much. So much. I never even realized how much I did. I'll never be able to live if I'm without you.

Survival (Part 1/2)

What is the worst thing you have ever been through in your life?

There are multiple ways someone will answer this question. Some will avoid it completely, digging a bigger hole to bury their deepest wounds deep underneath the Earth’s surface. Some openly talk about it because they know it can help another going through the same things. Some openly talk about it for attention. Some will answer that question, but not with the truth. We all have been through something. Something that, when it hits us like a flash of light, the hairs on our arms stand up and our skin creates goosebumps. You can feel something has taken over you, a sensation you hoped you wouldn’t have to identify with. Ever. Yeah all of us have felt that. Even myself.

Unfortunately, pain is inevitable. Most people say, “Why does this have to happen to me? What did I do wrong?” But it doesn’t matter what you did right or what you did wrong because life doesn’t work like that. The truth is we are human beings, and whatever happens to us will happen. Good AND bad. The good doesn’t happen only to the good and the bad doesn’t happen only to the bad. The truth is, we’ve been influenced by this preconceived notion that this, in fact, is what happens. Life. It’s not something that is meant to be depressing, no. Don’t let that be your assumption in your mind. It’s meant to be realistic. It’s meant to be REAL. I believe our purpose in life is to get as much knowledge out of it as you can. From books. From people. From experiences. From everything, good and bad.

So tell me… What have you learned?

I may not know what you have learned, but I know what I have. I can tell you what I have learned over the years of my pain. What do I know about that? You’re asking a great question. Some people know me as something you may call superficial. I’m the girl people think of when they think of the kinds of people the Kardashians are. Self-centered with quite a lot of money. Why self-centered? I guess that’s what happens when you pursue the kind of career I am. Money, modeling, acting, Instagram, Snapchat. My life is based on these things and those in that industry who see this often believe I have nothing better to do with my life than just that. None of it matters because I don’t know them nor do I know of their existence. The others? Well, they’re my favorite kind. Those who see me as happy. Too happy. Too hyper. Too friendly. Too pink. And by pink I don’t mean the color, I mean the personality of pink. Loud, vivacious, not a single ounce of unhappiness. Those who have met me before the age of eighteen don’t really see much of who I have transformed into. No, not even the ones who have come into my life after that and have become my heart and soul. There are quite a few, but no. Unfortunately, they can only imagine.

So that concludes that. The post? Oh no, not yet. There’s more… a lot more. Just wait. But it concludes the impression people have of me. The girl who never has anything to worry about. The girl who has it figured out. The girl who lives the lavish life. With photographers calling my name for shoots, a man who has the body and the looks any girl would drool over, cars that only those with money could buy, and opportunities people think are given to those who have amazing connections, not work ethic. I have it all, apparently. Does it bother me that people think that? No. That is exactly what I choose to make them think. Not once do I negate it.

So why this? Why write? If you’re asking that, then you don’t belong here. The button to close is on the top right and you can have a great time, but for those who want more, let me give that to you.

Depression. Suicide. Bulimia. Anorexia. Binge Eating. Anxiety. PTSD. Insomnia. Panic Attacks. Sexual Harassment. Rape. Violence. Abuse. Bullying. Death.

These are just some things I have been through in life. Yes, every single one of them. There is not one that hasn’t completely changed my life in some way. Almost twenty-four year and so far, I’ve been through almost all of it. Are you wondering yet?

What was it? What was the cause all of it? I used to ask myself this as I got older, sometimes I still do. People usually know but I had no idea when it started or when it ended. I just knew the days I felt it and the days I didn’t. I do know one thing, it seemed never ending. People always talk about the days when they were younger and how things were “simpler” for them. I didn’t feel the same and I still don’t. You know what I remember as a kid? Bullying. Waking up for elementary school being bullied everyday for everything. My dark brown hair that would be in pony tails people used to pull, my skin that was too white that apparently I bathed in bleach, my name that sounded way too funny to people that the worst nicknames were spread around that small school until the last day of 5th grade, how I looked like a man, everything. I was the last to be picked in gym, always. Nobody ever wanted me, I was just something people felt sorry for. Thing. Yes. Because I wasn’t a person. I was the girl who lashed out and would scream at people, and then land in detention because of it. Nobody else got in trouble, just me. Just the one who got bullied, and guess what? I was bullied for that too. Kids… they’re cruel. They really are. I knew that because I was the victim of it all. Even the fact that people were dared to be my friend just to see if I’d fall for it. I was used and I knew it. I wasn’t liked and I knew it. I had nobody and I knew it.

The thing about this is when all else fails and school makes you miserable, you’re supposed to look forward to coming home to a family you love. I didn’t have that luxury. I remember being beaten, kicked out of the house, called every pathetic name in the book, scared of my parents, hateful and envious of my brother. I was always compared to him, always. I wasn’t smart enough because I kept failing. I wasn’t good enough because I kept lashing out. I would get beaten if I couldn’t get one simple math problem from my homework right. The roots of my hair hurt with the amount of times they were pulled, my pale cheeks were bright red on both sides because of the amount I got slapped. I remember a Wednesday night at the age of 8 years old, I wasn’t allowed to sleep until I was finished with my math homework. It was 11 p.m. and everyone had gone to sleep. The lights were off and I wasn’t allowed to turn any of them on. I was crying with the amount I couldn’t understand and I was just scared. Utterly frightened. I sat there on the steps trying to get as much from the hallway light as I could and spent 20 minutes with a math problem. In the dark. Nobody around. Cheeks red. Hair half out of my ponytail. I remember it clearly. And it still scars me. My brother never had that problem. I know that because I never heard the end of his perfection. That ended a sibling relationship for a long time… a long time.

My first poem was written in fifth grade. It was called “My Miserable Life” and nobody thought or realized it was about me. Instead, it was entered in a poetry contest. I won. I denied it being published. I denied $600 as a ten year old. I denied all of it because had I said yes, the whole world would know. My parents would know. Everyone would know and it wouldn’t be hidden anymore. Isn’t it sad? It’s sad that a ten year old girl resorts to a poem that is titled that. No ten year old should have to go through that, no young girl should. Yet that wasn’t it. Winter was always so convenient. Long shirts. Sweaters. Gloves. I had convinced my mom to let me dress myself when I entered fifth grade. I also convinced myself to self-inflict for the first time. I remember piercing myself with the sharpest thing I could find and ripping the first layer of my skin right off. I was ten and I was scared. I was scared of what I was capable of so I never did it again. I never looked back at it, and, instead, I let myself scribble in a little diary.

A diary could only do so much. By the time the teenage years came around I was half-passed scared and more towards the darkest time in my life. Bullying, it never ended. Whispers went behind my back, “let’s buy her a razor for her birthday” “ask her out as a joke” “does your house smell like curry” “jealousy is a bad disease, get well soon” … stolen things, heartbreak, rumors, isolation, fights. Yeah. It was all still there. I was teased for everything and anything I did. One small embarrassing thing turn into a lifetime regret. It was like paparazzi. They were just waiting for me to screw up, and all I wanted to do was to be normal. And although I had friends, it was as if I was more alone than ever. How could someone be so surrounded, yet so alone? Suicide, that seemed like my best friend. I’ve done it all. Sat on train tracks right next to my house, filled a tub and submerged myself underneath, cut myself with any and every sharp object, rubbed an eraser on my skin until it burned, overdosed on pills, held something sharp so tight in my hands I started bleeding. All of it. Sharpness became an addiction, almost like cocaine is for people. Anything sharp I just wanted to put it against my skin. I needed it. I needed that escape. Just one thing that could let me feel free. It was as if I could breathe once it happened. There are only three times something happened to me, and all of those three times I really tried to kill myself. I still remember the last time. Standing there with a blade in my hands that I picked up while my dad was fixing something in one of the rooms. I could see my veins popping out, they were screaming “Cut me! Cut me!” and before I knew it, I sliced them and blood ran down my wrists. I didn’t intend to go that deep, but I did. So when I went to wrap myself, I suddenly couldn’t see. Every sensation was gone except my ability to hear. I was in the living room telling my mom I felt light headed and that I couldn’t see. It was black, pitch black. I was still conscious, and then I wasn’t. I woke up in my mom’s bed. She has no idea what happened.

Self-infliction wasn’t about me trying to die. That is not what I wanted. I was too scared to do that most of the time, but the times that I felt like it was almost happening, I was suddenly embraced with the gift of light. So then what was it about? I can’t exactly explain it. The best was to compare it is like when you drink a glass of your favorite alcohol, and you can finally breathe. Some days I looked at it as therapy. I could always count on a nice sharp knife or a pair of scissors to give me that. Coming home from school was a nightmare, but so was the abuse. It only got worse. Bruises, bashing, punching, slapping, from both my parents. In an indian household, a smack here and there may have been necessary, but I never thought so. Even then… it was nothing close to what I had gotten. I was given way more than a smack here and there. It was almost every day. I was never given a day to forget that I was a disappointment and a mistake. Sometimes cutting myself was all about the fact that I deserved the pain. Sometimes it was the only pain I could control. Everything changed about me. I cried, every single day of my life. Bullying and abuse kept getting worse and I hated my brother. I wanted nothing to do with him. Gothic songs, a hundred poems a day, cuts that would sting every day in the shower, blood that ran down my arms, my thighs, my stomach. Everywhere. I remember sitting in my room and zoning out at it. I remember purposely making it burn. It was madness, but it was the only thing that worked for me. And when I thought I had to torture myself more, then came the eating disorders. I remember one day it got out that I had one, and I don’t know how. Suddenly all teachers had their eyes on me, and it made everything worse. I always hated being the center of attention, I didn’t like it. I just wanted normality. Why couldn’t I have that much? Every single day from the time I was put into second grade until I left middle school I wished for normality. I just wanted to feel normal, to be normal. I was tired of it all.

Middle school was led by a heartbreak, bruises, blood, and just me… broken. Followed by a summer of madness and drama, and the first time I had been sexually harassed. All I wanted was a day of freedom to go out with my friends and have fun, but even that backfired when I left a guy trying to get a little too comfortable with me. Harassment may not be full blown rape, but that doesn’t make it any better. I thought my life would never be normal. Until high school.

High school was easy for me. Abuse had ended, bullying ended, everything and everyone had changed. The first year consisted of the normal drama everything went through. Heartbreaks, friendships ending, etc. I knew they were all bound to happen. I was even harassed again, by a man who was two years older and had me as a prey since day one. I knew that was bound to happen to me too. But then I was fifteen and someone was snatched from me. Someone I didn’t know would ever be taken away in the way that he was. He was my light and soul, and even today he still is. I knew I was the love of his life, and had he never left maybe he would’ve been mine. Losing him I lost a part of myself, a part that I still haven’t gotten back yet. Maybe one day I can go into detail about him, but this post is not one of those times. After that day I stopped hurting myself. I stopped writing poems. I stopped everything, and I walked away. I’d be lying if I said I never did it again, but he died in 2008 and in nine years I’ve only self-harmed three times.

High school. That is when reality kicked in. Or more like shoved itself in me against my will. It was dark. It was cold. It was unexpected. He was heavy and he was powerful. He had no remorse for what he was doing, and I know that because I can still feel his breath in my ear. I remember a big ring hitting my jaw from his backhand slap just to shut me up. I remember all of it. Most people talk about their first time as an interesting memory. I always have to lie about mine because my first time is when I was raped. Raped by a man in a hoodie from my high school. The hallways were tainted, yet again, because I knew that I was walking by my attacker every single day. This, is rape. I knew it. I knew he was watching me. I knew he was giddy inside. He knew he had control over me because he knew exactly who I was, and I had no idea. I still don’t know. The only memory I have from that is… well… everything. Coming back from it and crying to a boy I was dating at that time. He blamed me for all of it. Yelled at me for all of it. That damaged me forever. Never again did I tell another soul until years later because of it. I spent years feeling like it was my fault. But what do experiences like this actually do to you? For me, I lost control of everything. I mean everything. And somehow… I became the center of attention for the wrong reasons.

“Once a whore you’re nothing more, I’m sorry, that will never change”

That was chanted to me every day down the halls. Secrets came out like a can or worms slithering out into the wild. It spread like wildfire. I remember lunches were hard to get by because everyone was looking at me, everyone was talking about me, everyone was whispering to me. I was, once again, a pawn. I was used because I was “easy” and I was tricked into friendships, guys actually having feelings for me when all they wanted were my lips just for satisfaction saying that they got it too. The truth was that it never actually happened. And my name was spread across everyone’s lips. Apparently my mouth being all over their genitals was a lie they conjured out of their mouths, and it was never ending. I had apparently hooked up with guys I never knew existed. Had sex with guys I never did. The only difference between the person I was back then and the person I was in my senior year of high school was that I didn’t go home and cry. I didn’t go home and cut myself. I didn’t do anything, but it still was bothersome. Guys pinging, poking, wanting me left and right just because I was some type of prostitute. I wasn’t. Out of the thirty stories that were fabricated, only three were true. Three guys. Yet it tripled in numbers. I left high school as the whore. The whore that every single Indian, Patel and Shah, hated. Everyone knew my name. Everyone knew what to associate it with, “whore”. Never again did I take that word as a joke anymore.

But it doesn’t end there… this was just half of it. Half of what my life brought to me until I was seventeen years old. I left high school hoping it all would change, but what really happened after?

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When History Repeats.

There comes a time in everybody’s life where they realize that, no matter how far they have gone in life, no matter how much they have grown up and out of a phase, they will still come back to the drawing board. The one thing that helped them let it all go. That one escape, whether it was healthy or not, that will lure them back. It’s inevitable. For some it may be a relapse, and for others? Well… that may just be the one thing they should’ve never left in the first place.

What was mine? Simple. Words. Mine was words. Whether it was posts on Tumblr every now and then (or everyday), or opening my notebook to write down as many poems as it took to get things out of my system, I had the gift of words to come to my rescue. Unfortunately, that wasn’t my only escape, but let’s start from the beginning before we get into the now.

Middle school. It’s probably the most irrelevant phase in our life, right? I mean… elementary school was great because we had new friends, didn’t care about society and the pressures it hounded on us, nor how we looked or dressed. All we invested our time in was playing outside, riding our bikes, trading game cards, playing video games, eating Lunchables, and, most of all, recess. What was so complicated about elementary school? High school, that was a shit-show. Drama here, drama there. Breakups, makeups, fakeouts, fake friends. Some of the greatest memories and some of the worst. High school was just preparation for the real world and how it really is. And it’s true, even though you graduate high school, you never exactly get away from it.

But middle school… the awkward phase. The phase where you suddenly went from recess to being responsible for your own lockers. Going from class to class for each subject. It was different because not only were we transitioning from kids to teenagers, but we were going through big changes in our bodies. Thanks, puberty. Middle school, face it or not, was really a confusing stage, but not for me. Seventh grade was when I had felt my first heartbreak. I know, it was silly and it wasn’t even that serious. But to me it was, it was really serious. I never felt like this before. Liking someone so much and having it snatched away from me, watching them be someone else’s when I wanted them to be mine. It was really just one person, and the feelings for that one person lasted three years. I was twelve, how could a twelve year old feel so much for one guy? And for THAT long? But I did. I was that girl though. I was the girl who would be rejected all the time, nobody wanted me. Not as a friend not as their girl. No, I just wasn’t good enough. When I finally wanted to be that one girl for someone, I still wasn’t good enough. For three years I wasn’t. Sometimes I was. Sometimes I was the girl to love and adore, but that only lasted for a split second because as soon as I was able to digest it, it was gone. The cloth was ripped out from right under my and I would fall, hard.

I remember the first time I was heartbroken. It was May, 19th, 2006. I remember that because it was also the first time in two years I opened a notebook to write a poem. It was also the first time in two years I tried to commit suicide. “All for a GUY?” No. It wasn’t all for a guy. It wasn’t even because of the face that some guy broke my heart. It was because I wasn’t good enough. It was because I never felt like I was good enough, and this? This solidified it. So I picked up a pencil, opened a notebook and started writing. My first poem was complete. I put down the pencil and picked up a knife. I remember rocking back and forth in my chair figuring out if I should do it or not, but before I could question it any longer my body just did it. I did it. And that was the start of something lethal.

Till date, I’ve written more than a thousand poems. I remember carrying the notebooks around everywhere so that whenever I felt something I let it out on paper. That was healthy. So why the need to self-inflict? There are different reasons to why people do it. I had many too. There was a point in time (that came rather quickly), where the thought of dying scared me. I got nauseous from the thought of it, and I’d panic. But I needed some type of pain. I needed to give myself some type of pain so that I could walk outside five minutes after and be okay. That’s exactly what I would do, and nobody would notice because I made it a point to never let anyone notice. Only I can remember what I went through. Nobody knows what it feels like so anyone who has ever yelled at me for it and called it stupid, to me, they’re ignorant.

I finally stopped hurting myself and writing poems. I think it happened simultaneously, and when that happened I found Tumblr. That’s what began another way of writing. Blogs after blogs after blogs about things that I couldn’t even explain, but it released everything for me. Listening to music and being able to put my thoughts down was my medicine. If you were to put my poetry and my blogs together, you could probably figure out the ups and downs I went through in life in an instant. My heart and soul went in those. Words were always something I was good at, and not those fancy big words. Nothing to show off vocabulary. No. Me, just who I really was and how I felt like expressing things that didn’t involve Times New Roman in font 12 and double spaced 5 pages. It was ridiculous to me.

I had stopped writing altogether after some time. Why? I don’t know. I guess there was a point where I didn’t feel like I needed to as much. I still did it occasionally, but only when I needed a release. When I had so many emotions that it was unfathomable, and, most of all, unbearable. This is why I am here today…

People look at me today as the girl who can have any guy she wants. The girl men fall for, whether it is the beauty or the personality. That’s just the opinion I guess. What do I think? I think it’s funny. When I was younger I had a need for attention from guys, and today? I ignore them as much as possible and I don’t even realize. So no. I don’t care for it actually. I think I have been through enough attention, in all forms, that I don’t look for it. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. But yes, I can definitely say that a lot of things have changed. I’m not the one to be pushed and shoved, I’m not the doormat, and I will certainly never let anyone come in my way. Love, well, it can consume me, but only so much. I’ll listen to my heart, but my mind is a lot more powerful. That’s the thing now, I know exactly what I want and exactly what I need. I know my worth. I know right from wrong, and I do what’s right over what I want.

But maybe that gets me into trouble.

My past two relationships have been ended by me. Naturally, I guess I was just the bad one in the relationship. Let’s be honest… who REALLY sympathizes with the one who dumped over the one who has been dumped? Apparently it’s easier to leave than to be left. But that’s not true, not even close. Actually it hurts to be the one to leave. It hurts to be the one who does the right thing and be ridiculed and tormented for being the bad one. The heartbreaker. I was the heartbreaker. But what about my heart? Nobody even CARED. Nobody cared about me. There were things I needed, things every person needs in their significant other. Somehow, those things were lost in the relationships I was invested in; to the point where it couldn’t recover no matter how many times we’ve tried. No matter how many time I have tried.

There’s just something about me. There’s something about females in general. Their love is different. It can’t even be defined similarly to a man’s love because a woman is aware of the word unconditional. You see, we stay. We stay and we fight, every second and every day. We don’t give up because relationships and love is NOT about giving up, it’s about fighting through a phase. It’s all just a phase. It can all be worked out. EXCEPT… when it can’t. That is when a woman leaves. The moment that she has done everything, and I mean EVERYTHING to save a relationship and nothing changes she will leave. Because you can take advantage of her, you can take her for granted, you can do it all, but when a woman has had enough nothing can bring her back. Absolutely nothing. Take it from me, I’ve been the woman. I still am that woman. And it’s the worst place to be.

Sometimes I wish that I could be the one that could change. People say it’s hard to change, but you know what’s even worse? Waiting for someone to change. It’s as if the moments are going by like hours. And hours? Let me not get to that. It’s torture only if the person doesn’t want to change, and in this case I’m pretty sure I’m at that breaking point again.

I ask myself why. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. Why am I going through this again? I don’t get it. Am I not meant to be with anyone? Is anyone ever going to be good enough? It’s not fair that I have to fall in love when I didn’t even want to and have to be in a position where I might have to leave him. I can’t do it. It drains me because I have tried everything humanly possible to make it okay, but somehow he will still make it seem like I have done nothing. Like I am not sufficient enough or i’m always complaining or something. It’s not fair because I love him more than I have ever loved anyone. He was the kind of guy I’d give up my career for, but he was also the kind of guy who would let me do it because he was selfish. He was the kind of guy that would love me every day, but then he turned into the man who loves me when it’s convenient to him. When he’s happy and when he has the money to. And if a man loves me like that, why should I love him any better?

But I did. I did because I gave him chances over and over again. Especially during the times he didn’t even deserve it. Which was a lot of times, but if I were to say that he’d fall into his own trap of wanting to always be the victim. Because he always does that. Always needs to have a fictitious problem about something when we have an issue. Always creating an emotional story for a reason I don’t know. He’s never responsive, he doesn’t care enough, he’s so superficial and I don’t know who he is anymore. I deleted the texts, I took off the ring, I changed my wallpaper on my phone, I don’t look at his social media, nothing. But once you have a deep cut in your heart it doesn’t go away. That’s what I have.

“Sometimes I was the girl to love and adore, but that only lasted for a split second because as soon as I was able to digest it, it was gone. The cloth was ripped out from right under my and I would fall, hard.”

The cloth has been ripped out from underneath me so many times, even when I trusted that it wouldn’t happen.

So no. I don’t forgive him and I never will. Nobody can talk me out of it, not in a million years because how he treated me nobody deserves to be treated. I don’t trust him because, evidently, he lied. For his own convenience. He broke his words, shattered his promised. Does that promise ring even hold significance anymore? No. No it doesn’t. It’s tainted.

It’s his fault. It’s ALL his fault. I know that with full confidence because I did everything to understand, to make it better. There is nothing I didn’t do. But I know him. I know he’s going to give bullshit reasons to why he is the way he is, fabricate stories, tell people things that will make me look like the bitch and that I was wrong. Because at the end of it all he can’t say one thing, “I was wrong” and actually mean it and do something about it. He will never be the man to genuinely say sorry and admit the wrong that he did. Instead, I will be the bad one again. All over again.

How do I feel? I feel betrayed. Lost. Horrified. Scared. Angry. Confused. Tired. I don’t have the capacity to do this anymore. I want to scream. It isn’t worth it. I really hope he changes, but I don’t think he will. That’s why I’m trying to get used to myself being without him. There’s a point in this relationship that I realized that he is no longer equal to the priorities. He’s lost my trust, part of my respect, and a whole lot of my forgiveness. He’s not the man I fell in love with. He’s hardly a man.

Heartbreak. You still feel it no matter what side you’re on. I truly did hope I didn’t have to go through this again. Wow. I’ve never felt so much pain and felt nothing at the same time. It’s dangerous to feel like this, but then again it’s just when I feel. I don’t know what will happen. I think about it everyday and it doesn’t get out of my head, but I just have to remember this. I have already been through so much and I’ve come along way from it all. If I let this break me, I will never be okay again.

After all… he’s a guy. And I don’t let guys affect me, ever. Nobody has the right.

But then again…

I’m in love with him.

Make Your Passion Your Paycheck

I once dated a guy whose mother was often worried about my career path. She used to ask him, “how will she take care of the house and the family if she’s always gone?” as if I was someone a man couldn’t settle down with because I was doing something that stopped me from being a normal wife. I used to be hammered with questions about how and why I thought of doing what I wanted to do. Anyone I was involved with used to be told to be careful as if I was going to do something completely atrocious. If I wasn’t involved with anyone it was better off because nobody would be able to handle any of it. Then the conversation I would get, which wasn’t really a conversation, but a representation of an individual and what their limitations are. I believe I have had many people wish me good luck, however only a handful of them only believed this is something I could really do.

Limitations. Ah, the limitations. Every creative and ambitious person goes through the struggle of having to face those who don’t believe in exceeding beyond expectations. It’s funny. When were little kids we used to dream of becoming anything and everything, but as time went by our restrictions grew paramount. It concluded to the point where dreams were shattered before they even got a chance to sprout. What logic is that?

But I am different. I don’t believe that there are limitations. Limits aren’t something that the world gave us, it is something that people shoved into our mentalities. Hope is something that was brought down, not because the world wanted it to be that way, but because human beings created ways to make it impossible for some people. And I don’t believe that it is impossible for someone to do what they have dreamt of achieving.

Which is why I say this…

As an aspiring actor I will always have the people who come to me and say that I can’t do it. They will wish me well on “trying my luck”, but there’s no such thing as trying. I know I will do it because it is my passion and I am hardworking. I will always hear the negativity because people will always look at my career as something that is wrong. It isn’t. It isn’t impossible either. Life is a challenge no matter what path you take. It doesn’t matter if you decide to be a doctor or an engineer or a lawyer. You can tell anyone that you want to be the President and they will look at you like you are crazy, but you’re not. Anyone who ridicules your dreams and thinks that there is something negative about it is a representation of their limitations, not yours.

Here is something you should always remember. There are people who won’t understand and that’s okay. Your life is something that is controlled only by you and nobody else. And when you love something so much that you can’t breathe without it you will always find a way to make it happen.

Make your passion your paycheck.

#career #passion #passionate #tumblr #heart #love #luck #good #vibe #good vibes #inspiration #inspire #quotes #life quotes #love quotes #quoteoftheday

Rant.

It’s interesting. I still think about you. I mean STILL. I STILL think about you. So many songs, so many moments make me remember you. I miss you and I don’t know what to do. I mean I’m happy, I am genuinely happy with who I am with. The thing is...if I am meant to be happy with him why did I ever fall for you? And why is it that I broke down in the shower today. I still want to break down. Every song I listen to I want to break down and I can’t take it anymore. I always cried my eyes out, but suddenly I need to do it again. How fair is that anymore? I’m stopping myself from crying right now and I don’t know how it’s going to come out later.

But I can’t take that ache anymore.Tum se hi din hota hai...

Still hearing that in my head.

“Nisha I love you...”

Still hearing those videos in my head and all I wonder is... if I were meant to be with you then why did this all happen? Why did I have to go through another heartache? I just don’t understand. And if we weren’t meant to be then why did life play this? Out of everyone in my life you managed to make the biggest hole. It managed to break me, and I try so hard no to feel that. And then last night I have a dream that you’re in and I swear I just don’t know what to do anymore to get it out of my head.

I sat there on the floor for an hour trying to breathe because I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack. I miss you. I miss having you in my life. I wish whatever happened didn’t happen because it’s so hard picturing my life without you.

And I don’t deserve what I have. I don’t want anything anymore.

#heart #heartbreak #love #True Love #making love #first love #love quotes #sad #disappointment #blog #blogger #drunk blogging #relationship #life #lifestyle #quotes #quotation #life quotes #quoteoftheday

The Last Chapter.

As the year comes to an end I look back at everything that has happened. There have been so many ups and downs in this past year, but they’ve all made me who I am today. I look back and think to myself, “I wouldn’t want to change anything about it”, and then, well, I think about you.

It’s been a few weeks since we last spoke, but I’ve had so much on my mind to say to you, things I know I will never be able to say to you for multiple reasons. But before I close the book to the year of 2015, I’m going to write one last chapter.

Life works in mysterious ways-- bringing people in our lives and then taking them out. Sometimes I wonder why life brings us someone if its intent is to snatch them from us again, especially if it is someone you put your heart and soul into. I still have that present I bought for your birthday and I have no idea what to do with it. It doesn’t bother me that it’s there, but the fact that everything ended in the most cruel way possible. I deleted all those videos and pictures...all of them. Every. Single. One. I deleted our whatsapp history as well. Everything about you is gone, but the memories still stick in my head. Nothing was more painful than looking back at my photos and seeing that all of it was gone. The songs you sang to me, the songs you wrote for me, the videos of us, and knowing how I used to feel when I watched them. Every little emotion is a memory and the worst part is that I can’t believe it has been put into that category. The fact that you were just another man in my life who I wasn’t meant to be with, but I still fell so hard for. It’s hard because I’ll never know what would’ve been. But what could’ve been? And what will I feel the day I see you again? It lurks through my mind here and there.

I’m never okay when something is over when I don’t want it to be, but our love became so tainted that I didn’t know what to do anymore. Yet all I wanted was you, just you. I don’t know what had happened. I think, at the end of the day, the long distance got to me slowly. I couldn’t do it anymore, but I refused to end it because I was willing to go through all the hell in the entire world if it meant being with you. A lot of people were against that, but I was just glad we were on the same page. Everything fell apart though, and you made sure that I felt like shit about it. Those few days we didn’t speak because you told me to leave you alone, when, in reality, you did want to speak to me. You were hospitalized in those days and I had no idea because we weren’t speaking, but how was I supposed to know? If you tell me to leave you alone I’m going to leave you alone. If you don’t want me to then don’t tell me to. Don’t make me feel bad for not being there for you because I didn’t know and you never told me. That’s the thing though, you can make me feel like crap in an instant. When I started to become more distant all you said was, “It’s okay I already knew this was going to happen” as if it was something I meant to do. That devlish smile and laugh that you would have just to mock me and make me feel worse worked, and believe me I have never felt so shitty in my life. Sadly it still scars me…

I’ve come to the point where relationships really scare me because I don’t think I’m ever going to have a steady one. No matter how many times someone says it is different I won’t believe it because once upon a time you said that, and look where we are now. I can’t picture a future and I’m always doubting. I don’t know if something is truly right or if I’m just feeling something fictitious. And you know what, that isn’t fair. No matter how much wrong I have done to you I shouldn’t feel like this-- that I’m not capable of being loved or that I shouldn’t because I’m not loyal and I only care about myself. No matter how much wrong I have done you have no right to make me feel worse. That’s what you did. You pushed that knife in ten times more. I might have hurt you, but I never meant to do it. I would never purposely say anything or do anything to hurt you. I would never say to myself, “I’m going to do this so I can hurt him”. But you… you hurt me intentionally. I hurt you unintentionally and you hurt me intentionally. That is the difference in all of this. On top of that, whenever I apologized you always said okay and brought it up again after. All this time I thought I was hurting you, but now I realize that you were hurting me too. And it will never be okay. I know you must be in pain because, for the first time, you fell in love and it broke you. But for some reason I feel more broken than you do. I feel like as a human being, as a friend, a girlfriend, everything, I am questioning my own ability to do anything.

But then again, if there’s anything I learned from you it’s that I should never believe what a person says to me when their hurt. You used to tell me that when I would cried about my last relationship, that his opinion shouldn’t affect me because he’s emotional and he’s hurt. People are always going to say things like that… you just have to learn not to take it to heart. You see there was so much you taught me and your mind was the one thing that would soothe me. Sometimes I think to myself “what would he tell me to do?”.

For some reason I know I won’t be over this for a long time. It hit me right where nothing should ever. I think about it here and there, and it’s so unfortunate. I miss you I really do, but the thing is you have broken me with all those words. We have broken each other with everything we have done, and there’s no way I can recover from it without doubting myself. That’s what you gave me, doubt. That is what I took away from all this. I don’t know when I’ll ever be okay, but all I know is that what’s done is done. I can never go back nor will I ever.

I have nothing left to say except for the fact that I’m glad you’ll never read this. I don’t even want to deal with your reaction. I’m ending this chapter of my life here, and even though I know that I’ll still think about it, I promised myself that somehow I will make it through this feeling.

I will...

#love #True Love #first love #love quotes #heart #heartbreak #relationship #life #life quotes #lifestyle #happy #happiness #emotions #2015 #book #chapter

I miss you.

November 4th, 2008. It’s been seven years since you left this world, but sometimes it still feels like it was just yesterday. I don’t remember much of our memories back when they might have been more important. All I remember is a boy who would give up the world for me. The morning you died I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it, but my body reacted before I did. You used to tell me that if you were to lose me you’d die. You then told me that you were dying because you lost me. Even though you never meant to have me take the blame, somehow I always did. I’m eternally grateful to have known a man who was so crazy about me he never stopped loving me even after all that time we never communicated. To know that you never once looked at another girl the year we were nothing to each other is something I will never forget. I never understood your love then, but I do now. You have taught me so much of what you have learned in your life, and it helped me gradually grow up into the person I am today. I remember you saying that when you get to heaven you will take care of me, and I like to believe you always do. You said you would bring me someone who would love me the same way you loved me, and that is how I will know that inside of him is a part of you. I like to believe that too. You were taken away from me so fast and it still kills me. I miss you every single day and a day never goes by that I don’t say your name in my head. It’s been seven years and sometimes the wound seems so fresh, but I believe you were taken away from me so that you can take care of me. Sometimes I look up at the stars and wonder if you’re looking down at me. I hope you are. I love you. I will always love you. Thank you for taking care of me, and I’ll see you soon enough.

Cause every time we touch I get this feeling, and every time we kiss I swear I can fly.

Can’t you see my heart beat slow? I can’t let you go. Want you by my side.

#death #rip #love #making love #True Love #first love #love quotes #life #lifestyle #life quotes #motivation #emotions #movement #i miss you #heart #heartbreak

My Deepest Wound.

Bravery can be defined in a plethora of constructed words by people who think they know exactly what they are preaching about, but none of them can comprehend what it truly means. It is not a word that is signed to a certain category. All it means is to be able to show courage by enduring pain or danger. My whole life has been set on becoming this word. I wanted to be nothing else but brave in the most powerful way I could be. When I was younger, I imagined being a super hero simply because they had the ability to diminish the corruption wherever they went. I wanted that same power within myself so that I could eliminate what had feasted inside of me, depression.

I’ve had depression my whole life and I’ve been treated for it for only three years. I can’t conclude whether or not that span of time is considered ‘long’, however, I do feel like I have suffered battles that I keep secret even to myself. I knew I wasn’t a happy child because of my childhood. Many of my peers have always grunted about wanting to be a child again, but I shiver at the mere thought of it. I lived in a household that didn’t practice the normal Indian family tradition; the kind where family sticks together. We never bonded. I had a father who had no concern about the life of my brother and I, but the definition of him being one meant to beat me until I was black and blue. I never had a fear for men after him because I always knew that if I could survive him I could do anything. I don’t remember a time when my mom wasn’t busy. She was too busy to the point where I wasn’t able to do the things I wanted to because she had no time. My brother played the role of not only that, but my parent as well. At the age of ten he had full responsibility of me. It eventually took away his childhood and he spent more time disciplining me than going out with his friends. He was everything to me, but as he grew up we grew apart. That didn’t change for a long period of time. My brother was still the only one I considered my own in the family, but it became harder and harder to look at him that way when I was continuously compared to him. He was smarter—book smart, street smart, he grew up faster, he was more mature, more organized, spoke well, listened to what he was told to do, never acted out and never did anything wrong. I was the exact opposite. Being called a disappointment was something I was hit with consecutively. My mother didn’t go as far as my dad with the abuse, but I still remember getting slapped and being thrown out of the house because I didn’t know how to do a math problem. I’d go hours without food because I wasn’t allowed to eat then get yelled at because I didn’t. When my mother would yell at me my father would come into the conversation, adding fuel to fire. When my father yelled at me my mother would yell at him. It caused a riot. I don’t know where my brother was in all of this, but staying in my room often became the only logical thing to do throughout this predicament.

I didn’t have many friends in school and it could’ve been because I was a little insane. Nonetheless, I was still picked on for every little thing possible. Bullying is bullying, whether you are teased or you get your face stuffed in dirt, it is bullying. I did horrible in school. Most of it was because I hated myself and I hated my life. I talked too much in class, never did my homework, got bad grades, and I didn’t care about anything. It was in fifth grade when I first hurt myself. I was just beaten for a reason I can’t remember and I had enough. My mother wasn’t home and whenever I tried to call her it was another black and blue session, so I cut myself. I was ten years old and I had done something I never thought I knew how to do. That scar penetrated my skin for years, but today it’s like it doesn’t even exist. I never touched my skin again until I was twelve. By then I had become addicted to physically harming myself. The struggle at home and in school lasted for years, and when anything more tragic cropped up in my life I made it worse on my own body. It wasn’t okay to do it and it is never the answer, but to me it was the only solution. It was a cross between wanting physical pain and trying to actually kill myself. I was addicted to hurting myself, and even I’m not able to explain why. I still have those scars in various places where I have self-harmed. The worst ones are the ones that can’t be shown, the times I actually woke up in my bed or a hospital bed from coming close to it. I never did though, no. Even with hundreds of poems written about it, it never happened. I think deep down in my subconscious mind I didn’t want this to be it. A part of me was still a little frightened, but I was never too scared to hurt myself.

I was thirteen when the abuse stopped. It stopped because I learned to fight back, and I did. The first time I hit my father was the first time I knew I had something in me that was completely dangerous. Something in me that if I were to be pushed to my limit I would stop at nothing to rightfully punch a man or woman in the face. The fights and the suffering got to a point where I constantly told my mother to divorce him. He never hit me after that final straw, until I was nineteen. I didn’t think I could become any worse than I was when I was thirteen, but I was wrong. I was a monster, and even today I don’t regret anything I have said to him. I walked out of the house and didn’t return until a week later. We didn’t speak for a year. High school consisted of problems with my mother, and I never had a relationship with her until I was nineteen. She was unreasonable many times, and the amount she had made me suffer was unbelievable. I had never met a woman so egoistic and hard-headed in my life, and it wasn’t acceptable. As I grew older she become busier with work, work that somehow still didn’t bring any money into the house. Money has always been an issue for me, and the issue had only gotten worse as time progressed. It’s become the number one thing that stresses me out. Building a future and progressing to become successful is almost impossible when you don’t have money. It’s harder when that money has to go into other things. Money was also the reason I wasn’t able to go to any college I wanted to, so I never tried. And through everything that happened from high school until now—the heartbreaks, the rape, the assaults, becoming numb, the setbacks on my career, landing in a hospital bed for panic attacks, losing people I love most through death—I have been knocked down and up a lot more than people have concluded. I realized not a lot scares me anymore.

People classify those who have tried to commit suicide as cowards, but they are not. Coming first hand there have been numerous incidents where I have sat there with a knife in my hands constantly thinking how the world would be better off without me, and how I would be better off without the world. Suicide seemed to be an option to me because the world gave me pain so unbearable for me, and hurting myself would last for only a few seconds before I wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore. It always seemed like a better option, and, sometimes, no matter how old you get it may remain in the back of your mind. It’s not about giving up, it’s about becoming free. Just like depression, the will of wanting to hurt yourself never vanishes. The only thing that changes is the power to be sensible. That need to make something of your life. I used to receive many lecture, most of them saying how ungrateful I am for not seeing that I have everything in front of me. I didn’t know what was worse, the fact that people thought I was ungrateful or the fact that people don’t understand what a mental disorder is. I learned how one-sided the world was, but I felt more of a pity for them.

It is true when people say the strongest human beings have been through the hardest times. It is true when they say the prettiest eyes have cried the saddest tears. Nobody will ever know the whole story, and I don’t think anyone should. There are some things I like to keep for my own, a sense of control, but there is never anything anyone should be ashamed of. I used to cry in my bed and I wouldn’t get up for long periods of time. When I was diagnosed I also gained a lot of weight, and although nobody realized it because I am tall and it didn’t show as much, I knew exactly what was going on. I stopped going to my classes and I would fail all of them. Even with people keeping track of me going I still managed to fool them into thinking I was attentive. There was a certain point in life where I learned to take control of situations, and when I couldn’t I didn’t know what to do. It was almost impossible for me to be content because there was always something significant pushing me back.

Today I am twenty-two years old and still living with depression. My best friend in the whole entire world is my mother. I love her more than words can describe and I don’t know what I would do without her. As I grew up and learned things about her, she had done the same. Without uttering a word to each other we met halfway. She works to achieve her goals and mine at the same time, and she is the most incredible woman I know. I know of no other woman who could pull of what she has done. She takes care everyone in the house like a mother, provides like a father, and works her butt off like a businessman. I will never love anyone as much as I love my mom. My brother has grown up to be the most incredible man I know. In psychology, it is said that the first male figure a girl has is her father. My brother was mine. Even today he is the only gentleman that I know. He has never stopped caring for me and I have never stopped caring for him. We don’t have that much time for each other, but nobody knows us better than we know each other. I would give up everything for him. It would take a whole lot for a man to reach the standards my brother has provided me considering he has always treated me like a princess. My father…well he is still not as relevant to me. We get along and we don’t fight, but he isn’t a factor in my life. I used to wonder what it’s like to actually be close to your father, but then I realized I had something a lot better. I never felt the lack of one and I still don’t. There are still many things wrong about my family, but it taught me a lesson on how I would bring up my own.

As for me… here is what I have learned. I have been through a lot, and if you were to ever tell me that I am not strong or brave I wouldn’t believe it. Bravery can be something as small as getting out of bed in the morning and brushing your teeth. It can be something and tiny as getting out of the house to go grocery shopping or to pick up NyQuil. Bravery can be sitting in your bed with your laptop open and writing about the struggles you have gone through in life. I have had my highs and lows, more lows than highs. Even today I will sit in my room or drive to an open field and stare out my car, wishing that my life could change. Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that I have no control over. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get through everything I am currently suffering with. However, I have learned that there are some things you can control in your life. The biggest is the mind. I didn’t magically wake up from bed thinking I’m going to be pro-active and achieve all the things I have always wanted to. I woke up from a hospital bed being told I was dead for a few minutes before they had to shock me back to life. It was at that moment I realized that life can end at any moment, and to waste each day is like wasting yourself. There are people in this world who fight every single second just to have one more moment in their life, and I was sitting in bed with my blinds closed and my room dark. For what? I will always have depression and it is something that will remain a part of me, but I have learned to make that a strong factor. Because of this reason, I am going to achieve my goals so that when I look back I can make myself proud. I can make the whole world proud. I can make those who suffer with the same problem understand that they can surpass any obstacle and achieve anything if they just try. It’s not just about positivity and seeing a future for yourself that you have dreamt about for years, it’s about not wanting to picture yourself under those sheets and shoving your face in a pillow.

Everyone has their own life story. We all have a past that has once brought us down, but it is what we make of ourselves and our future that matters most. The next time I am in a hospital bed with my last few breaths I want to be proud of the life I lived. I want to be proud of myself. I may occasionally lose my way, but I will always find a way back. No matter how hard my past was I am proud of it. It’s time to make a future I will be proud of too.

Rum and Coke Words...

I used to freak out about my grades in college… all the time. I think it was because of my depression that I didn’t care and then my anxiety that would bring it all back. My grades would slip, yet I’d bullshit my way through college hoping that the nightmare would go away. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I knew college wasn’t for me, but I was forced to go anyway. I never agreed with society that a classroom and a piece of paper defined how intelligent you were as a person. I always knew that, aside from these walls, I was more than just intelligent. I was wise. I’d sit there scared, and yet, I’d still ditch all my classes. Today, I kind of wish I was there in college so that I could have the choice of skipping it. At least it would defeat me having to be in bed all day.

I don’t think anybody understands the situation I’m in at this point. I am already in too deep to leave, but not deep enough to call myself established. If words could express how I felt about life right now it would be unfathomable. I have dreamt a dream for fourteen years, and today I am home from fulfilling that dream, and more, and I am still sitting in this bed with a problems that I’ve had from the very beginning.

The biggest being money….

I don’t think people understand. I don’t think anyone understands. It isn’t easy to have two BMW’s and to own a channel of your own and still say that you are as broke as broke can ever be. I still wonder how I got to this point. When I was younger I used to think that my mom and dad said no to things because when something cost a lot we could always find something that cost a little less, but looked exactly the same. Today? Well today, I have $500 in my account that has to last for, God knows how long. Today I stop myself from doing every possible thing in the entire world just so that I have money. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I have to second guess going out to eat or going to the movies because I can’t afford it. It’s not fair that I have to think about shopping for clothes I actually NEED just because I don’t want to run out of money. It’s not fair. None of it is fair. I have tried so hard and nothing seems to work. All I think about is, “What did I do to deserve it?”

What’s the point of life if you can’t even live it? This is my time to be doing everything that I can. I can’t do any of it. When I was younger, I wanted to do so many things in my life. The only obstacle I had was my mother. She just didn’t have any time. In a way, my dad has a right to be frustrated with her. She spent a long time holding on to her pride and ego and not working just to do a lot of favors and social work. She spent a lot of time doing that, but no time wanting to understand the things I wanted to do in my life. So I was restricted. The rest of it has been restricted by money. I hate people who say money doesn’t buy happiness. If it didn’t I would be here at this point stressed about what to do. I hate people who look at me and say that money has never been an issue for them; it’s because they have it. I hate it myself when I have to take money from other people. I am the one person who knows the value of a dollar, and I know what it feels like to earn money. I don’t feel like I’m worthy enough to have to take someone’s hard earned money just because I live an unfortunate life that I, coincidently, advertise as being so lavish.

I’m tired of people not understanding my situation, which I why I never talk about it. People should know me well enough to know that if I could control this I would by now. I hate that this is an ongoing situation in my life and that I keep crying about it. How long am I going to keep speaking about the same thing over and over again? It’s not fair to anybody else, and I shouldn’t keep talking about it.

I’m tired of being the strong one in the pack. I’m tired of having to pick up other people’s pieces and not be able to pick up my own. It’s my fault because I don’t like telling anyone about my weaknesses, but, to be honest, nobody deserves to know about all of me. I don’t like that. But it’s hard to have to wake up to a “I need you” call when you fall asleep crying and hoping to forget about your issues in the first place. I do it though. Anyone who says I am not strong is a fool. I am strong. I am the strongest woman you will ever meet. I know that for a fact.

Except I don’t feel strong at this moment. I feel weak. There was a point or two… or three… that I looked death right in the face. I cut myself and banged myself to that white light. And I know what it feels like to be dead. I was dead for a few minutes, but people say I’m a miracle child. Either way, I know what death is. Death is cold. Even though I have seen it I don’t know if I want to see it again. The again I ask myself, what IS the point of life if you can’t live it?

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The Man I Love.

It’s fascinating to know that when you first look at someone they don’t mean anything to you, but as time goes by they suddenly are the reason you breathe every day. That’s what it is like with him, a breath I take every second. As I take it he is the name that streams through my body. Sometimes it happens without me realizing. I was in a relationship the first couple times I met him, and back then he wasn’t at all relevant to me. It was just a guy working in the film who, to me, seemed to be anti-social. I didn’t really think twice about it. Even today I don’t know how all that turned into me kissing him in that moment. That moment. I always wish I could go back to it. Laying on the bed on his lap which, even at that time, felt like home. He ran his fingers in and through my hair as if he was familiar with it. That moment. If you were to ask me then what I felt, I’d lie and say I didn’t feel a thing, but the instant the lights were off and he had turned to me, holding me close in his arms, I knew I felt something. The sound of his heartbeat started to sooth my pain, the agony I had hidden inside of me. When I tilted my head toward his direction I knew I yearned for nothing more than to kiss him. Our first kisses made me feel things I would ignore at that time. I didn’t want to sense anything because after all the relationship drama I had gone through I was too devastated to fall for someone else. It was the first time, however, my heart was overruling my mind. The lights were off and I was drunk, but it was apparent to me that I was going to become charmed into his kisses. Those kisses that intoxicated me more than the alcohol I drank that night. His kisses were dangerous, but in the sweetest way possible. I was hooked. I knew it when he backed me up into that wall and gently kissed every inch of me. I knew because my heart kept racing faster and faster along with my breathing. I was scared, completely terrified. I left in such a hurry, but as I walked back into my room I couldn’t stop blushing. Soon enough it was the end of the shoot but I didn’t want him to leave. Although I knew I was going to see him soon, I couldn’t manage to want to let go. Ha, but stupid Nisha was hiding her feelings constantly. Hiding from herself and everyone around her. What was I scared of?

It’s hard when you end a relationship you put your all into, especially when you abstracted a fictitious future in your mind. It’s worse when you’re the blame for all of it ending. So I concluded that I wouldn’t fall in love for a really long time. I didn’t want a man, I didn’t want a relationship, didn’t want to like anyone, no attachments. When I came back from Florida’s shoot I had gotten myself to forget everything that happened prior. After all, I didn’t really think we would continue to pursue it. So I went back to my single life, doing what I did best. Then I watched the videos of him singing, the videos he had sent me. I was screwed again because I would watch them at least five times every day, pausing at the parts where his smile was most visible. That smile. It was just as dangerous for me. Then it hit me, I kind of missed him. Off to India I went and thrilled to see everyone. I remember standing there waiting for my bags to be checked, and I saw him leaning his head against the glass. The first glance at him after two weeks made my heart jump, but I still didn’t let myself get carried away. I hid all the emotion until that night. That night we laid together in bed watching television, but all I could think about was kissing him. Gosh, when is he going to look at me and kiss me? Should I kiss him? Does he want to kiss me? I mean, he’s cuddling with me. So many thoughts running through my mind and I was convincing myself it was just physical, but it wasn’t because the moment he did I felt myself melting. Becoming physical with him was almost an offence because I felt a connection. Days went by and sleeping with him became making love with him. I realized that I’ve been making love with him since the first time. Days went by and my heart kept winning over my mind. Taking drives with him, dancing in the car and singing to the same songs, spending every night with him, it was taking a toll on what I thought was practical. But when I looked at him the most practical thing started to be me falling for him.

Before I could even keep up with my heart, I did. I fell for him. I knew I liked him more than I could ever even explain. I knew it one night when we were laying in bed together. I rested upon his chest listening to his heart beating, and as the moon shined its light through onto his body I looked up at him and I knew. It was at that second I realized I couldn’t hide it anymore. I wanted him to be mine and that was it. Falling asleep and waking up next to him was the greatest feeling. I never felt at peace the way I do when I hold him. Sleeping is something that was always a struggle for me because I would toss and turn for an hour before I could fall asleep, but with him it took about a minute. With him it was all different, a good different. It was something better. Every day was always a struggle because I tried to deal with the pain of a past that kept weaseling its way back, but he would ease the ache with one smile. Every night I slept with him I didn’t want it to end, but it ultimately did. Before I knew it I was on the flight back home. It never transpired that I would have a hard time saying goodbye to someone, but as I hugged him I fell apart. I never felt so absent and fragmented, feeling someone’s touch the last time for who knows how long. I walked away trying not to look back because if I did I wouldn’t ever leave. I had fallen for a man seventeen hours away, but I had no intention of changing that.

If I were to explain to a person everything about him I would be at a loss of words. To begin, I don’t have any except for the fact that he drives me crazy. I make jokes and sometimes he won’t laugh because he loves to see my reaction when he doesn’t. That makes him laugh. He enjoys bothering me and getting me frustrated. I don’t know why, but the way he enjoys it gives me butterflies. Sometimes he’s a really big pain and I want to punch him in the face, but as soon as he says he’s going to eat me up I feel those butterflies again. The way he makes me feel is unfathomable. Seventeen hours away and through just a FaceTime call he manages to make me fall for him every single day. His eyes shine, and whether it’s in person or through the phone, you can see it. If you were to ever wonder how much he loves me you just have to look into his eyes and you’ll find your answer. His smile drives me nuts because it’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen. It has this way of making me smile no matter what mood I’m in. His laugh, oh his laugh. Sometimes there this little squeak that goes along with it and it is excellence at its pinnacle. His laugh is the sound I want to hear day in and day out. Nothing makes me happier than seeing his face. His touch sends chills down my spine and sometimes I forget to take a breath. His kisses, yes, they are still dangerous because of how intoxicating it is. But I am hooked on them—his soft lips. It’s been almost two months away from him, but I still remember his touch every time I close my eyes. Home is no longer four walls for me, home is defined with his eyes and his heartbeat. Serenity is defined within his soft-skinned arms and his head rested above mine. My happiness lies in his existence because as long as he is with me nothing can touch me for too long in this world. Everything is okay as long as he is there to kiss me on the forehead at night, and if he is not then just his face and his voice will do. I love to hear him. Most of the time I never let him speak because I talk too much, but his voice is one I keep wanting to hear. The way he sings to me is in a way I wish I could comprehend with words, but he can’t do it without smiling. I can’t listen without wanting to blush, and, if I had to be honest I’ve never been shyer around a man in my entire life. I am myself one-hundred percent, but I really have never felt so shy. But I love it. He drives me to the point of madness, but I wouldn’t want it any other way because I love the feeling. I love it more because he is the one who gives it to me. He wires me up but he calms me down. He makes me want to smack him in the face but I also just want to hold him tight in my arms.

He calls me beautiful like it’s my name, not just by the looks but by who I am on the inside. That was the one thing that made everything else make sense, what he saw in me. They say what an individual sees in you depicts how they are themselves, and he saw things in me I had locked away deep down within me so that I’d never have to feel it again. The innocence, vulnerability, all the emotions I could sense but wouldn’t is what he had brought out. He made me understand that I am amazing just the way I am. Most make us want to be a better version of ourselves, but he makes me want to be more than that. He makes me want to be the person I am, the person I truly am, but was too afraid to show the world. All the pain, betrayal, and abandonment that I have felt in these past years seem to mean nothing anymore. He loves me more than I could ever possibly love myself. Is that possible? I don’t know what it is, but this man has kept me happier than I’ve ever been despite of how far he is. Not just by how he loves me, but by the way he is as a person. I’ve met many people I could connect, but none of it can compare to the way my soul, my heart, and my mind connects to his. It’s almost magnetic. After two relationships where I felt that I was the one being mature, here I am in one where I am shown that I have a lot of growing up to do. That challenge has intrigued me even more because I knew I had to; it was just the simple fact that I always felt like I was anyway. Here is a man who makes me better in all different ways, and even though he has come at such a rough time in my life I have picked myself up faster than I would’ve if I didn’t have him. He brought perspective into my life, a way of thinking that I had once lost in a battle I was fighting before. He is my inspiration in its purest form. I want to become remarkable not just for me and because I believe I can do it, but because he believes I can as well. All this time I was tired of being the one to push others, slowly losing sight of who I was. Today I have a man wanting to push me to become everything I have the potential to be. Sometimes I believe he sees more in me than I have ever seen in myself, but maybe it’s because I have been engrossed in situations that diverted my attention. With all that aside, he makes me better. Slowly I feel myself becoming a healthier person, and although it’s happening gradually, his words are always running through my head. One day I will make him proud.

He gives me everything I have ever wanted and I can only hope to give him everything he desires as well. Distance, oh the distance. What a messed up thing distance can be, but an ocean can’t come in between our love. It will never change how much I love him. I do. I am madly in love with him, and there’s nothing I would want to do to change it. Oh my heart has definitely won, and it’s a new thing to me. I never think with my heart, but for once it has shred my practicality into oblivion. I used to convince myself in the beginning that it would never work, however, every day I spent with him and every day I would talk to him made me realize that everything was perfect about him. Let’s face it, everyone has their flaws but all of his seemed to be perfection as well. I guess nothing can compare to that smile. That smile was dangerous from the very beginning, and it will probably remain so. He will, without a doubt, drive me nuts for the rest of my life, but if there’s one thing I know it’s that I wouldn’t trade it for all the great things in life. Nothing compares to him, absolutely nothing. I want a lifetime of craziness with this man. I want to fall asleep in his arms, hearing him snore after twenty seconds of closing his eyes, and wake up to him stealing my pillow. I want to be half asleep and feel his arms around me. I want to lay there and feel his soft lips gently pecking my forehead because that’s when I know I am the safest. I want to dance with him anywhere and everywhere, especially in the rain. I want to sit there and blush forever as he serenades me. I want to make love to him because those moments are the greatest moments I have ever felt. I don’t know what happens to me when I’m lying there, but it’s an addicting sensation. Most of all, I want to be his forever. He is the man I will spend the rest of my life with, and every day I can’t help but be thankful for him.

The feeling of being in love cannot be compared to any other in the world, and I am lucky to have him be mad for me too. Now that I am with him I’m not sure how I ever lived without him. The journey of my life has led me to him. Today, my life is complete as long as he is present. My journey now continues, from now until my very last breath, with him by my side. The man I am madly in love with.

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