#shivanwrites

[drunkzombie]

finished parasyte today. this scene quietly broke me. it hit me how grief isn't just pain. it's a proof of the space we carry for others, even the fleeting ones. we mourn not just because we lose something but because we felt something idk if it makes sense but what a rare and beautiful thing it is..... to be human enough to hurt for something that briefly touched our world. and maybe that's the point. not to avoid the ache but to recognize it as a sign that we are alive and open.

[drunkzombie]

It’s an old memory, but it still lingers. I was on a bus, seat adjacent to me sat a newlywed couple. The wife was making faces and playing with a little kid in the seat ahead, completely lost in her own world. But what stuck with me was the husband—he wasn’t watching the kid, he was watching her, eyes full of quiet admiration, like he still couldn’t believe she was his.

At one point, I glanced in their direction, and just then, he looked at me and smiled—like he was so full of love, he couldn’t keep it to himself. It was such a simple moment, yet it held a kind of warmth that stayed with me long after the journey ended.

[drunkzombie]

I will become devdaas today that's for sure now if it's happy devdas or sad devdas that depends upon the result of today's match

[drunkzombie]

Bachpan se I've been running after girlbosses. Hermione Granger, Elle Woods, Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw, Donna Paulsen, Mary Kom Gitanjali Rao, Miranda Priestly—fictional or real, I’ve always admired women who take charge, break barriers, and handle life like a pro. They’re smart, driven, relentless. They get knocked down and still rise. I grew up rooting for them, wanting to be them.

But now? I'm tired.

First, I don’t wanna run anymore. I don’t wanna see another hyper-competent, hyper-responsible woman who has to do everything while the world barely keeps up. Hermione had to be the brains of the trio while Ron and Harry bumbled through life. Elle Woods had to prove she was worthy of Harvard just because she liked pink. Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw had to fight for credibility in biotech because investors didn’t take a woman in science and business seriously. The pressure, the expectations, the constant need to prove yourself—it’s exhausting. I want softness. I want mess. I want to exist without having to conquer.

Second, even if I still want to see women in media, let them be girlfailures. Give me Fleabag, give me Shiv Roy, give me Maddy Perez, give me Devi Vishwakumar, give me girls who are deeply flawed, selfish, struggling, making terrible choices, crying in the bathroom, ruining their own lives and still being worth watching. Let them be disasters and still be loved. Let them breathe.

I’ve spent my whole life watching and idolizing women who "made it" despite the odds. Now I just wanna watch women exist without the need to constantly succeed.

[drunkzombie]

The only suicidal maniac i like is Dazai Osamu.

His excitement at finding someone willing to do a double suicide with him is both absurd and hilarious—like, sir, why are you treating this as a romantic outing?

[drunkzombie]

Look what I just found—an ancient relic from the not-so-distant past. Dadi ke pitaare se nikala hai, should I frame it or use it as a very expensive bookmark?

[drunkzombie]

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my—get a brain, please. please, for the love of everything holy in this world, get a brain or just stop talking.

there are two sorts of people you come across when you talk about your problems. first, the ones who listen. they are nice, they are cool, they either try to understand or simply don’t care, which is also fine. we like them.

then there are the talkers. now, these are tricky people because they come in three types.

first, the rare gems—the ones who empathize with you, acknowledge your problem, maybe even help find a solution. perfection. we love them.

then comes the second type: the me talkers. no matter what you were saying, whether they were even part of the conversation, they will make it about themselves. they must insert their cheap two cents, even when nobody asked.

and finally, the worst of the worst—the dismissers. the ones who hear your problem only to tell you why it’s not a problem. why it’s your surroundings, your mindset, your perception. why they, personally, are totally fine with it—so clearly, it’s not an issue.

lemme give you a life lesson: when someone tells you their problem, basic etiquette demands that you do not turn it into a lecture about why it doesn’t exist just because you haven’t experienced it. unsolicited advice that dismisses someone's reality is not wisdom, it’s arrogance. sometimes, the best thing you can do is just listen—not everything requires your input, and not every conversation needs to be filtered through your personal lens. if you don’t have anything helpful, thoughtful, or even remotely relevant to say, do yourself and everyone else a favor: shut up.

[drunkzombie]

Silent Decay

I carry it inside me—this hate, a storm caged beneath my skin, its thunder pressing against my ribs, its fire curling deep within.

I do not let it spill or lash, do not let it poison the air, so it seeps into my marrow, festering, sinking, rotting there.

Maybe it stains the blood that flows, maybe it blackens part of my soul, a quiet ruin, a slow collapse, a hunger I cannot console.

But I do not let it touch the world, do not let it set hearts ablaze, for once unleashed, I know too well, there’d be no way to cage the flames.

So it stays—a shadowed wound, a ghost I cannot name, silent, unseen, a quiet decay, that only I will claim.

– fakepoetess