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The Good Life

There is a certain way to articulate your life.

The other day I got an extremely disturbing phone call from someone I care about deeply. And it shook me to see that person in extreme pain. But, if that phone call would’ve come, say, two months ago, I would’ve been of no help. Except for being a listener, which is also rare!

But, instead, to my surprise, I was this focused counsellor who gave that weeping person a sense of strength! And nothing makes me happier than making people smile. Listening to them. And in the end, making them relieve of the pain that is causing a sort of mental trauma.

Because I’ve been there. I have spent days locked into my room and weeping and questioning my life and the very reason of my existence. And it’s nothing new. I’ve talked of my various stages of depression and self-questioning several times on this platform. And I don’t think anybody should be ashamed of being an emotional wreck.

We are humans! We are supposed to feel things. And that too, deeply. Nothing makes me angrier than people who are too closed when it comes to their heart. Like why the hell would you guard your heart, instead of taking a chance? If we all lived our lives like that, there would have been no success stories at all! The more skeptical you are, the more you are blocking the good things coming to you.

So yeah, coming back to the phone call.

I’m obviously not gonna disclose the details, but what really hit me was how obsessively we stalk people on Instagram and Facebook and other non-popular social media platforms and in turn make our lives miserable. Like, have you ever posted about how miserable your life is on your Instagram story? Maybe once or twice. But that’s acceptable. But if we continue to do so, then my friend, first, you’ll lose your followers because no one got the time to listen to how shitty your life is and secondly, you will fall into this pit of negativity and struggle to come out of it if you don’t get your shit together.

So, why worry about who took a trip to Phuket or who just bought a new Chanel boy bag? Have you ever looked at your life with an Instagram filter? I’m telling you, it’s gorgeous! It’s so damn beautiful compared to what it was a year ago! You got a million blessings and a gazillion moments to cherish for lifetime. But because you’re blindsided with negativity and vying for MORE, you’re blocking the way for many more blessings to come your way!

And how do I end this post? By being thankful to the almighty for blessing me with this long lost friend of mine: gratitude.

Love,

H ❤️

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The ache is deeper than ever

In fact it inflicts more pain

Because every second

There is a new wound

By the same fucking person

How stupid can one be

To fall for the same lie

Over and over again

To hurt oneself

A little more

By the same fucking person

The doors are always closed

Yet they foolishly open

Even at the slightest arrival

Of the conniving soul

That is inconsiderate

And it hurts, hurts like a bitch

Because of the same fucking person

And yet in those moments

Or any other as a matter of fact

Heart longs

For the same fucking person

And this vicious cycle carries on

To the delight of the heartless silhouette

Who finds bliss in my pain

And lies to my fucking face

Because this heart is stupider than ever

To fall

For the same fucking person

Love

H ❤️

The Vicious Cycle

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Incomplete

And I vie to smile when there’s happiness all around. I look at the beauty that has shadowed upon all the souls. I see the love that is there in every heart. I feel the wind touching my half dead body. I know the truth that is severely damaging. But, still, I feel incomplete. I feel like a half. That is waiting to become whole but knows from the inside that it will die as a half.

The bruises. Oh! The bruises. With every glance of yours. Every word you say. You cut me deep in the heart. It bleeds profusely. I can’t help but let it bleed. You have the power to make me bleed. And yes I’ve been waiting for the day, not when we are together, but when the bruises turn into fatality and I die with you in my heart, knowing that these bruises were your gift to me.

I’ll die, complete with your love or your indifference or your strangeness. But I’ll die with you in my heart. I’ll be finally, complete.

Love,

H ❤️

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For What Do I Fight

When the hope dies,

The good times fly by.

When the heart aches,

When the brain is tired.

No one cares,

But I still persevere.

For what?

For what do I fight?

 

My words are twisted,

My intentions intertwined with lies.

That’s what they think.

But I still fight.

I fight for a better tomorrow.

At what cost?

She cries.

She cares.

I give her a reason to whine.

For what do I fight?

 

I’ve lost years.

Lost my precious time.

And I wonder what time do I have?

To make my dream realise?

And then I ponder.

What was my dream?

For what I  fight?

Tell me.

For what do I fight?

 

I used to write.

I used to empathise.

Now it’s a saga of whining.

My heart aches.

My soul is tired.

How do I explain?

Whom should I explain it to?

And,

Most importantly,

What do I explain?

I fight.

And I fight for what?

For what do I fight?

 

I do know that it is my life.

That they’re connected with me for a lifetime.

I care and, hence, don’t speak.

I speak and I break their pride.

I choose to be quiet.

But inside, I fight.

And then I wonder.

For what do I fight?

 

Don’t even get me started on self-doubt.

Don’t ask me about the worth of my life.

I question the very existence.

My existence isn’t worthwhile.

Yet, I fight.

Like a maniac.

For what do I fight?

 

Love,

H

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The Places I’ve Seen

And the mind wanders

To far off lands

Lands that should’ve been there

But lost in my ruthless plans

A perfect world

You’re by my side

Life is a cakewalk

Blessed with every desire

Our laughter so real

They make of it as a phase

But we go on together

Living a life so good; unfazed

rainy mornings

Or the bright sunny days

We move through it all

Epitome of happy rays

Oh! The places I’ve seen

Through my wandering mind

Oh! The love I’ve developed

But alas! I’ve resigned…

Your scornful looks

Your heartbreaking words

My happy place is your heart

Should I fight for it, undeterred?

Love

H 💖

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Say No More

Not a poem. After ages.

What is the downside of being an introvert?

If you ask me, we, the introverts, the so called less happier ones. The so called arrogant ones. The so called crazy ones. And many more negative adjectives to describe our state of mind or rather our general psyche.

But these adjectives stop making sense after a certain period of time. We start accepting ourselves as we are after a certain period of time. What hurts the most?

Well.

It is when we are hurt by the behaviour of someone and choose to isolate ourselves and not to confront the person directly. It is when we are extremely hurt but choose to keep the feelings of the other person above ours and not make them feel guilty (if they have that kind of heart) of their behaviour by not disclosing the reason of our isolation to anybody. And then get JUDGED by all for being egoist, naive and arrogant for behaving in a socially unacceptable manner.

Yep..

It hurts the most.

Because we do not want to hurt anybody.

Even if it means to hurt ourselves more and more each day…

Love 💖

H ❤️

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The Dark Room

Humid corners

Eerie noise

Intrigued by it all

I forget my poise

I traverse

Traverse into the room

Nothing appealing

Oh! It resembles a sad tomb

Yet a connection

A familiarity touches my heart

In spite of its ugliness

I just couldn’t depart

Nothingness filled it

Void and vacuum alike

Just like this heart

Which I call ‘mine’

The silence or the noise

Whatever you may call

This queer room is a canvas

Of my equally dead soul

Run! You may run

But I call it my own

Possessed in it completely

I can happily drown

H ❤️

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The Love of My Life

Engulfed in it.

Like a child,

Trapped in a building,

On fire.

Helpless,

Crying.

And then comes a point,

When the cries,

Fail to come out.

Slowly,

Gradually,

The breath rescinds.

And ultimately,

The child dies.

The remains,

That they cry over,

For hours,

Days,

And months.

Those remains,

Know nothing,

But of the liberation,

Of being breathless.

Being dead.

Death.

Oh dear, death!

I yearn for you.

I am waiting.

You take those,

Who hate you.

But the ones,

Who are ready to embrace,

Your tranquility,

You ignore them.

Why dear?

Why this injustice?

Why not give my soul,

The peace,

The vacuum,

The seclusion,

It is waiting for?

My remains,

Will lie,

In a bed full of flowers.

My soul,

For once,

Will be happy!

My mind,

Will be free of thoughts.

Thoughts, that killed me.

That took me away,

From everybody.

Take me.

Take me away.

Where you live.

A secluded place.

Where nobody expects,

Nobody betrays.

Dear death,

Give me this gift.

And I’ll shall forever,

Be your slave.

Love,

H❤️

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Life, As We Don’t Know It.

Three years ago, when people used to ask me, “What is your aim in life?”, my answer used to be, “To become successful so that I can take away the problems of this world”.

Three years down the lane, the problems are still there. Increasing. And those problems have crept into my life too. I’m frustrated than ever. Happiness, I don’t know of. When was the last time I was happy? I don’t know.

I wake up and I literally cry from the inside that I don’t want to go to work. My health is deteriorating.

AMBITION. What a powerful word. People used to say, “Hasmeet is so ambitious.”. And it used to make me feel proud. But that very ambition has made my life miserable. I’m working so hard on something that is the very reason why I’m miserable.

And on top of that, I do not know how to stop. I believe in the law of attraction so much. And I know I’m outta this job sooner than I’ve imagined. Following the herd is not always wise. Government job. Sounds like a lollipop. But it’s a bitter lollipop. The worst flavour you’ll find in the market.

Ah! My problems may sound so trivial to the ones who really need a government job. They’ll call me thankless. But life is not the same for everybody. I hate my bitter self. I curse people and that is something I really didn’t do earlier. On top of that, I curse myself. I doubt myself.

There are people who have bigger problems. Yes, people are dying of hunger, terrorism, hate crimes and what not. And I’m cribbing here about a job that is paying me well.

Well, I hate my ambitious self. I desperately want happiness.

H.

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Lillies

The sweet odour of roses

In hues of scarlet and cerise

Approved by the herd

For her it was unheard.

Lillies and their charm

Their beauty filled the whole farm

Long ombré petals

In their serenity she revels.

Lillies loved the care

With her they made a wonderful pair

The hues of orange, yellow and pinks

With joy, made her eyes blink.

They thought of her as a lunatic

Partly, because she’s always been a sidekick

And then she started comparing

The beauty of Lillies with the mighty roses.

There were questions and doubts

How on earth do her Lillies flout

The age old norms of roses

Being the best among all.

She sank deep into a jungle

Forgot the ethics to mingle

With the roses lovers

Her Lillies brutally murdered.

H❤️