#pennedthoughts

[paradoxical-plutonian]

They villainize us because we are wary to trust, but our wariness is rooted in truth. They live in a land of make-believe; we are eternally rooted to the painful realities of life.

journal entry, 4/1/21 

[ichor-on-paper]

Driving down the road, you see the small shop where you once had ice cream with that peculiar taste, you remember the innocence and glee you had when you were a kid. You reminisce about those memories as the shop becomes a glimmer behind you.

Maybe, life isn't so bad after all.

[pennedbyvaishdas]

I keep on checking my mobile,

Looking for your virtual presence in my life.

The movie behind my eyes

shows you walking towards me.

Even if the sky swallows the light,

it never fails to leave behind for me,

Your memories, treasured in the deeper pits,

dug under the crimson flesh,

at the tips of the ticks,

between the dancing hands of the clock.

-vaishdas

[pennedbyvaishdas]

I see my reflection,

In the broken hair strands,

Splitting half my soul;

In the eyes of people,

the pupil growing wide on me;

In the edges of my neatly cut fingernails,

gradually tearing more of my cells;

In a fed-up sigh,

ailing inside;

In the imprints of handwriting,

carefully carving down my perceptions;

In yellow, orange and red,

Sometimes in black and blue

Too rare to find in pink;

In the breaking voice between every word

that I have ever spoken;

In the forced smile

and unwilling consents;

In a wild-grown tree

Dressed in spider web,

Turning yellow and then brown;

In a brazen procrastinator

proudly returning to the void;

In cold stares and 

irking bad moods;

In the winged fairy warriors

holding dagger in their hands;

In the museless days

finding the meaning of life,

Covering my face with thoughts,

And I ask you,

'How do I look to your eyes?'

-vaishdas

[musings-of-a-20-something]

the ride home

my mom is supposed to pick me up at the airport, its only been a few days but it'll be good to see him. i'm sure that's what she's thinking. i'm thinking about what i am gonna tell her. about my trip. what happened. about her.

i load my things into the trunk and climb into the passenger seat. "we've missed you" she says in a way that only a mother can. "how was your trip? we've got a long drive home, i want to hear everything about it."

i've never been close with my parents, but i know that there are some things that you have to tell your parents. a girl is one of those things. "i didn't actually go to see friends, mom" I pause, and she looks at me with eyes full of questions she knows i will answer.

my mind races. what do i say? how can i communicate what happened? how can i communicate her?

i start from the beginning.

"don't be mad, but there's this girl. i've known her for years" i say, "since my 18th birthday, basically. we met online and have been close. i think she knows me better than i know myself." my face burns red. my mom has known of one girl before this. my first and last girlfriend. i decide to push on, "she's one of those girls that if you see her in public you wonder what you did to deserve it, ykno? even just her name would tell you everything you need to know about her."

"well, I know you have a type." she laughs, and so do I. "so does she fit it?"

i think to myself, my type? but before I can compose my thoughts they start spilling out of my mouth like the eruption we saw at yellowstone when I was six. "she's beautiful mom." i don't stutter. "she has eyes like you would never believe. like crystal's ball made of the purest sapphire." i say, not telling her they remind me of a crystal ball because i can see a future in them. "their like the sunrise. when she looks at me, i mean she looks at me and its like my life starts." im staring at my hands. "and her smile is like something of another world. no words even come close and if they could it could only be in a language only she spoke." i don't even realize what i've said. "and she's kind mom. like i didn't know existed."

"she's kind like the mother to my children should be. kind like a saturday morning on the porch drinking coffee that i've grown to love over 60 years of life." i don't even drink coffee. at least not yet. "and smart. not smart in the way that i am, but smart in the way that i need. a smart about life, about what matters." i'm hardly even thinking about what i'm saying. every thought i had of her is bursting out of me like an overpacked suitcase from a two night trip. every minute detail fumbles out of my brain. i'm reminded of being four and putting every topping on an ice cream sundae. you don't know how to make a sundae, what to do to make it taste good, so you throw everything at it and hope with every ounce of childish innocence that it will turn out as it should.

we've been parked in the driveway for what feels like an eternity but is barely ten minutes. the car continues to run and my mouth is dry from talking more than i ever thought I would, but it is also sweet from talking about her. i hadn't looked at my mom since i started talking about her. i was a bit embarrassed, i think. a bit scared too. the car is silent.

the silence was broken by the sound of an airplane overhead. i opened my eyes and sat up from the bench i had been laying on, just in time to see mom's car pull into arrivals pickup. i load my things into the trunk and climb into the passenger seat. "we've missed you" she says in a way that only a mother can. "how was your trip? we've got a long drive home, i want to hear everything about it."

"it was good mom,"

"real good." -

[whataditilikes]

You see, I had it all planned out. I have designed my life out, a long time ago. Yet, I don't have concrete ideas about who I am now, whom I should become, what I am capable of. Which path I can choose to minimize the distance between these versions of me, I'm chasing. You see, I don't actually know anything at all. How to say the right things at the right time, when to shut up or talk longer about nothing passionately, whom to believe freely and let inside without the fear of abandonment, when can I finally get a break from adulthood and dance in the rain. The space is getting smaller each day, and the boundaries are messy. You see, I have this incredible talent to overthink each step I take, before screwing things up completely and then pretend like I don't exist anymore. Later, I go back to the front door, hoping I won't be greeted by the haunted house, like I won't have to pay the price for putting my faith in the wrong people. But every time I walk in, I realize it didn't work out. It never works out the way I hope. They made another permanent damage before leaving, and the house stinks of all the miscalculations. You see, then, I sit back on the floor, locking each door, drawing the curtains, counting the stupid decisions I made so far in the middle of the night. In the following days, I pull out the saddest mixtape out of my phone, till the lyrics plants its roots deep inside, asking me to get the crown back - that I have the rest of my life to figure the rest out. You see, sometimes, when I sit by the window at 02:34 am in the morning with a cup of coffee, I wonder, Do they remember me at all? Do they replay the times we spent together sometimes, anytime? What have they learnt from the traitorous time? If I dare to knock, will they invite me in? . . . . #musing #musings #mywriting #pennedthoughts #mywords #ｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓ #onmymind #lostlove #blogging #indianblogger #indianbloggers #indianbloggercommunity #newpost #lovehurts #thisisme #mythoughts #theonethatgotaway #myphotography #booksandflowers #daylight #sadquotespage #sadedit #mylife #heartbroken #mymindandme #sadgirl #traitor #someoneyouloved (at India : South Asia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVDckx7B8Vz/?utm_medium=tumblr

[marielle-poetry]

Some people will get their big heads stuck in jars. But instead of cookies, they dig for gold, rings and cars. They spent their good years digging for gold, and years go by, realizing they’re now too old. Now they search for love, saying life’s not fair, telling you their problems, and you pretend to care. - Marielle C.M. National Cookie Day (December 4th), although the poem has nothing to do with cookies as they, along with the jar, were both just metaphors for how some people get stuck in situations by searching for things that are not realistic and sustainable. Not judging people who are after money in their partners, but just saying it's a sacrifice, and years later it might not be as important anymore when you want a meaningful life and relationship. Photo Credit: Found on Pixabay, user: 12019 https://bit.ly/33Hc94y

[craftyphilosopherus]

The Letter I Never Sent

Dear beloved,

With each day that passes by, you seem to walk a little farther away from me. I’m sorry that I hurt you so bad, but there’s a time when you need to learn to forgive.

I’m in pain, a lot of it, but I never wished it upon you. I swear.

Every night, I have these beautiful dreams, always about you. And then I wake up each morning in tears, knowing they are not true. I cannot move on, because I lack closure.

I don’t care about what your story is to people, because it’s not true. None of it is. And I refuse to believe that it’s over.

WE are better than that.

All I want is ONE CHANCE.

To show you who I really am.

To be the one you were looking for.

Don’t you see it?

You’re my person.

And I don’t want anyone else.

You still called me your girl, and it brought a smile to my face. Until I heard the last part of what you had to say.

I’m not the w***e you think I am.

And I cannot believe YOU called me that.

What is all this anger and pain towards me? And if this was all, why did we even begin a chapter together?

I want to start over.

With or without you.

But all I ask of you is this: one conversation. That’s all I want.

Face to face, really.

Feel free to burn this, if that’s really what you want. But I think you’re better than that. And you are free to prove me wrong.

You told me to try harder before you hung up on me?

This is my last card on the table.

Hoping you’ll ponder over it all,

Please.

Speedy recovery to you!

- Just another ex