How much it changes you
I stand at the parapet
A foggy smoggy winter and wind
A book nestled close to my heart.
I read along the lines
I cried alongside the characters.
My goosebumps stood in their moment of glory
Sometimes you read a book only to realize, nothing would be the same again
While you roamed in the shoes of narrator
You see what they see
And you take away what you choose
You become whom you like.
I finished this book "Looking for Alaska" by John Green. It's a great book. Just give it a try, you might visit a different high school and be part of a very interesting journey.
"If people were rain, I was a drizzle while she was a hurricane." - John Green, Looking for Alaska
The bad dreams are back
Such a shame they never left
I'll wake up most nights and remember your face
I want to call out your name and I want you to comfort me
All I have are these stream of tears to remind me
You're stuck in my head
Then I remember
I wanted you dead
In my dream you are by my side
But we are surrounded by the dead and we are hiding
You said to me, "you have to trust me so I can get us out of here"
I ran away I couldnt take it
I'm fucked if I stay I'm fucked if I leave
A brilliant suicide you are my cyanide
Put on a smile, time for the show
Throw me to the wolves I'm dying to know
Why dont you see what you do is cruel
How long have I been a fool?
New, inescapably impressive, faint feelings, rousing a mad welcome, noisily arriving and departing in the dark hours of early dawn.
All these feelings intruded on the visible nearness of her main interest.
They sometimes, more often, gave way to some irrepressable instinct... if conditions were different.
But in her mind, these mingled with other interests, or fell unheeded into a deep reservoir of memory.
An Ode to All the Stories I Know
Here's to all the stories I know.
To the pages turned fast and slow.
To the worlds I visited, lying on my bed.
To the people I met, and the goodbyes I said.
To the boy who grew up among wolves,
To the marigolds in Dehradun.
To the occupants of a certain house on Baker Street.
To the Giant who swallowed the moon.
To the quaint town in Alabama, where it was okay to shoot bluejays.
To the student who sat beside his ailing teacher, every Tuesday.
To the winter that came, and the dead that came with.
To the hidden platform, and the boy who lived.
To the magical beanstalk, growing through the book cover.
Remembered by the ink, the final walk of two lovers.
#random 3AM scribbles...
I dream of airplanes that have no lanes
Where am I going? I start to feel the same
I dream of men with guns it's just no fun
What have I done? I think as I run
I dream of countless walls, I just wanna pass
What am I fighting for? Will I last?
I dream of blood so much blood
Innocence is dead it's on my hands
When will it end?
I'm sorry for letting you believe I was okay
Self sabotage at its finest as I unwillingly throw a grenade at my own shelter, I release myself
I feel the pressure drop and I'm falling down to an inevitable death, where I feel nothing
Everything is okay
How do you think beyond rationality?, His friend asked with curiosity.
I read uncommon books with unpredictable patterns. It have developed my thought process with wide range of sources; He replied.
We also read books as a part of our academic pursuit; They further asked.
But my reading list is dedicated around by 1% of thinkers and achievers rather than 99% of amateurs and repeaters; He justified.
I’m stuffing images down Like yesterday’s paper.
I keep the comic section because pictures are easier to admire than editorials.
Okay, so, why did I delete the pictures but keep the texts?
Doesn’t make much sense.
I wrote a sentence and deleted it.
They’re all about this for that and I’m starting to become tired of it.
I’m not telling anything different
You’ve heard all of this
Crumple me up and leave me in the wastebasket.
You’ve read me once over already.
Someone else might feel enticed.
Inclined to tickle my spine, they’ll think I’m more interesting.
They’ll want to read me over 69 times.
My bindings will eventually fray and loosen.
I’ll become a new person.
Love changes you.
'The kite Runner'
Friendship beyond limits.
One of the best book read till date and one to be treasured forever. Marked with tears, love and more tears.
Devastating and heartbreaking with a strong message and lots of reasons to live.
How could someone possibly love his friend more than he loves himself?
How could someone betray his friend for his own faults?
Lots and lots of unanswered questions that'll keep your heart contained for the rest of your life.
A must read.
Anger, Sorrow, lost
Good, Evil, ghost
Agony and pain
Sunrise and rain.
Everything I feel,
Every time I write.
They call me mad,
I know all the madness.
They just know this word.
Under the tree with a book in hand
Many dreams get real
That's what stands the test of time
One page at a time.
While the characters leap out and dance
Many stories get unravelled
With the breeze comes a languid peace
Many plots get interesting twists and turn
Each turn of the page begins
An imagination going beyond the real world
The mind knows what this means
Its making life surreal.
Dear Pen Pals;
The thing about me is... I'm an introvert person. I love staying up late in my bedroom... alone. I spend my time mostly reading a book, and writing my book series. I love studying a lot of things that revolve around metaphysical and spiritual stuff.
I think that's it for now. I'll write a letter again next time!
If I'm the page
And you're the pen
Dirty me with
Your ink again
Let's make history
On virgin sheet
Stain my heart
With every beat
Write of love
Inscribe your name
Scar your words
I’ll feel no pain
If I'm the page
And you're the pen
So we never end
Love me xxx
That's all what you need to be a bibliophile, x
It seems so unfair,
To be able to see it,
Fight for it
But never really able to touch it, grab it, hug it.
It teases with its soft touch,
Running from my eyes, tears.
Stealing kisses from my lips
And dreams from my nights.
It comes with the winds to take my breath away.
And yet it leaves me to live, suffer
In the bittersweetness of its constant presence and absence.
Is morning sunshine,
Thunder and rain,
Love is happiness and sadness
Combined with contentment and urges
Its having freedom of control and control of freedom.
A paradox in itself, mocking on sarcasm.
The one challenging the irony of hope.
So Here's what my day picks up Again
Revolutionized by thoughts
In this era of throwbacks
Fading off every that cause,
Which bothered me awhile
And set me aback.
Now times finally back Again.
As always In its own Form!
To follow the age old quote
"What's a life full of care,
Nor a minute to Stand& Stare"
Yeah, just recollect
When was the last time
You did something
For yourself, for your own
What was the last thing,
You've gifted to yourself?
Try to judge,
What means a Quality time,
For you, And when was
The last time you've
Actually spent some
Mechanized brains motorized
Our heart and Soul too.
And here we are losing,
Nothing but our own weapon.