Dreaming is not bad
But if you can work rather than dreaming, it would be better.
There is so much to do... The unspoken, the unfinished, the unimagined... Adventures, pleasure, laughter, memories, best workouts - beautiful, breathtaking, serene, magical, maddening.
I might have played our little - yet to be completed, mundane Wed. evening in my mind over a 100 times and it still makes my eyes go shut and wonder how it would feel, how you'd taste? Is it the racing hormones to blame or something so addictive about you, I can't let go of that mental picture...
I am fascinated by every bit of you...
All 6 of them sat around the table when they heard someone banging loudly, on the front door. For a second everyone froze. Could it be?...."
Is it possible , that the one friend they left behind , is back after so many years in search of them.
They all have met together after 7 years , for the first time after that incident occurred. A heartbreaking and dangerous accident , which lead to the death of one of their close friend. An incident which changed a group of 7 to 6.
The time seem to be the same , as it was 7 years back , the cold weather , everyone going for a holiday into the mountains and enjoying the chilly winds.
Difference was just that the chilly winds now , were c...
Dear Every Reader,
This letter is for each one of you who is struggling in some situation right now. I know and understand exactly how you feel cos guess what!! We are sailing in same boat. Only our situations might be different our issues might be different. But I know we are having equal hard times. Some of us are struggling finding a job. Some of us are struggling to work at their office due to pressure. Some of us are dealing with relationship issues or breakup or divorces. Some of us are having issue in finding that Mr/Ms Right. Some of us are dealing with health issue physically some are dealing with ones mentally. Some of us are dealing with family issues. Some of us are dealing with ...
Hello from Ahmedabad,
I want to mention a story in here. The story that one girl told me when I was in Ooty.
Ooty is a place located near Coimbatore, in south India. Me and my brother and some of his colleagues, we all went there by road driving a Royal Enfield. We all started a journey from Bangalore at 11:00 AM and reached there by 8:00 PM. The journey time usually depends on us that how much time we take to drive a bike and at what speed we drive a bike.
We already had booked a hotel there to make a two days stay. At another day, we visited some of the places and captured photographs of the same.
It was 8:38 PM roughly. I was seated on the bench of the public transpor...
"I don't know how to speak now, without the sound of an "I miss you" buried in the back of my throat.
And I don't know how you still don't hear it."
- Chloë Frayne
You, with whom the Earth sings:
you are wild like the roses,
silent like the dew.
In you, thousand suns set,
from you, thousand suns rise.
Every time I kiss you
I find sea-gulls
on the shores of your curves,
and on your lips,
I find, I always find
a plethora of flowers.
I was thinking what to write
As my brain was deserted
And heart feeling the same
lugubriously I tried to put the pen on paper
And failed miserably
I hope a better morning
When I wake up
Damn but I am not getting sleep
I was asking myself
Again and again
Will it be a morning for me
With any difference in me???
Still in touch with myself.
I was lost in the mist of my dilemmas.
I was lost in the depth of the sea.
Wearing a mask, avoiding myself.....
didn't know who was the real me.
Suddenly the fog lifted,
and the waves shoved me to the shore.
came back to me.
Off to meet the demands of the world
You demonstrated restraint
Reaching out into the unknown
You develop new strengths
When so much was against you
That showed themselves boldly
You wised up
In face of uncertainty
I had only ever
as a young girl
clutching at stars
in my head
and when you
asked me to
I jumped at
and left behind
my sanity as I
but it was
never going to be
enough for you
and I was right there
waiting for you
but you had
I guess I was
never quick enough
to keep up with
Some one asked me
That is materialistic
That expects gifts and roses
Appreciation and celebrations?
The one which comes along
With us like the trenches
One that holds mirror and ahand
That is resiliencing not indulging?
I pondered hard
To mark it's not just an another day
I love those roses on my day
And also that kiss I wud cherish
I need those candle lights and balloons
So that I could embrace tight
And whisper my love only
with a smile and brighten all night
Yea I m that trench too
Will always walk through
Love to hold that mirror
Which wud reflect not just the other
Ahand that is held in promise
That doesn't skip the grip
If love is resili...
I don't know what I am feeling anymore. I used to be so damn sure of my feelings. Always in control of myself. Now? I don't know anything anymore. I am blank, angry, sad, lost, rebellious, irritated, frustrated. My head is spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. Making me incapable of doing anything. I am desperately seeking for a release. I need to fill myself with smoke, or be drunk senseless, or to draw lines in the skin and to replace the darkness with pain. Or the most fulfilling one - be lost in ecstasy. But I can't. I don't know how much longer I can remain strong without giving into my cravings. And to think that I used to be so sure of myself! Speak about irony.
The more I be sad,
The more I try,
to make others happy.
And that's what changes,
to being again happy.
- Vishakha Dhruv
We are all broken shelters,
Waiting for someone to stay inside our hearts,
And make it a warm place again ,
By lighting a fire .
We're secret savages,
Sleeping uncomfortably in our concrete houses.
Tossing and turning, eyes scanning the ceiling,
Searching for a starlit sky.
We're boorish bodies,
Grinding against the chisel of time.
Polishing the surface, blunting the edges,
Trying to be a perfect fit in an imperfect puzzle.
We're vacant vagabonds,
Longing for a sense of belonging.
Travelling relentlessly on varied paths,
Knowing deep down, that home will always be where we are not.
We're morbid miracles,
Trying to make sense of a magic trick.
Questioning and discovering the mystery,
Existing, as a story that writes itself.
We're the patient hourglass,
And the restless sand.
We're the penned down word,
And the in...