Memories… Do not Open

I don’t know how to remember you. I don’t know whether or not to let the sweet memories we made, fading in the crystal clear water and falling asleep next to you, dominate my understanding of you, or if I should focus on you leaving me with such harsh words?

I don’t know if you ever really loved me. I don’t know if you have found someone else. I don’t know if you have ever woken up next to someone and called them the wrong name, your name. Because I have. I don’t know if you have ever seem something funny and instinctively wanted to tell you about it and then remembering you aren’t interested in hearing from me.

I don’t know if you had nights where you dream us back together and wake up wishing you could sleep forever. I don’t know if you have thought of me since we last talked.

Sometimes it’s still so, so hard to believe that we became these people that are worlds away from each other now. Hard to believe that you were everything, you know? You had me at night and in the morning and every hour in between. It’s hard to love someone after they’ve shown you parts of themselves they don’t really fit with the rest of the picture that you’ve made for yourself, you know?

Like god, you really hurt me so bad but you’ve also made me so happy and how can you be the both of those people at once? Where does it all fit? You made me question so much. The point is, really you can blame me for distance and the timing all you want, but you’re still the one who turned me into a weak stranger.

I know soon you’ll forget the sound of my voice and what colour my eyes were. You’ll forget how much I loved your black sweater. Soon you’ll see me as a stranger; walking down by without recognising me you won’t even know me while I’ll be getting drunk trying to forget your name.



I’m an introvert, anxious, overly sensitive soul, I just give a damn. I’ll feel those harmless jokes in the pit of my stomach. I will cry until I can’t breathe whenever we fight because I cannot handle the way you look at me when you’re mad. I’ll see problems where they don’t exist; I’ll deeply feel the miles between us when you turn over to sleep at night.

See I am made up of fire – I am wild and little out of control and sometimes I burn so fiercely, it pushes people away. But only because I had so much of life’s disappointments inside me, only because I care too much, I feel too much and I want that to be my strength, not my weakness.

I care if we fight and I hurt you – I’ll try to fix it. I will try to be better, I’ll go over and over until I am able. I am only human – who has loved fiercely, chased my dreams recklessly and failed more than I care to admit. So I get back. Maybe I shed too many tears over life’s disappointments and pain. I do not wish to build a wall around my heart, to stop feeling everything so intensely because that is the only way that makes sense to me. To dive right in, to be vulnerable and raw and honest, even if it’s scary as hell, even if I regret it.

So do not call me “too much sensitive” when I cry during an argument. Do not mock me for wearing my heart on my sleeve. Because this fool heart of mine just give a damn.

I’m worried that I’m never going to be happy. My happiness never sticks. I feel it for a few minutes, maybe even hours, and then it slides off of me. Disappears. The memories I have are nice, they get me through the lonely nights, but memories are never enough. I don’t want to remember a time when I was happy. I don’t want to long for the past or imagine a better future. I want to be happy now.

And how many untimed coincidences will it take for you to realize that you aren’t a stranger to my soul after all?


I need you to know that although I sometimes say so little, it’s not because I have nothing to say, it’s because I have so much to say. So many things that you couldn’t possibly imagine, so many things that I keep locked inside an effort to protect this overwhelming loving and passionate heart. I keep it locked inside for fear of becoming fool again who believed love is always enough.

Being secretly in love with you after all this is like being a part of the solar system, because you’re the sun and technically I could literally be any planet since they all revolve around you anyway, but for now I’ll just say I’m probably like Pluto or something, because you always seem so far away and on those odd days when you seem closer, I start to get into my own space and it’s like I don’t even exist anymore.

I just never could grip why it seems like I’m always spinning in circles and you, shifting and tilting and rotating all out of orbit trying to connect the stars and either seal our fate or find the fault.

Someone asked me, “Do you still think about her?”

“Yeah.” I whispered. “All the time. But it’s worse in between moments where I have nothing to do, and I’ll remember all I did these past years was give her more than the extra time I had, you know. Times gives us so much value on a person even when it’s wasted.

“Does it still hurt?” She asked quietly.

I closed my eyes briefly; she waited patiently before I could master a lie. But these days it has just been so tiring to trick the people around me. And myself. So I told the truth. I nodded. “It always will.”


I wonder…

I wonder if I’ll ever stop falling for wits and charms that sweep me off my feet with no intention of carrying me. If I’ll continue to fall for words I want to hear that are not backed by actions. If I’ll continue to believe that maybe this time it’s different when it’s exactly the same.

I wonder if I’ll keep trying to fix all the people who are already unfixable. I wonder if I’ll keep cutting myself trying to put their shattered pieces together. I wonder if I’ll ever stop believing even if the odds are against me. Even if everyone is telling me to forget it, even if everyone is telling me it’s not right. I wonder if I’ll keep blindly following my heart without ever stopping to ask it where it’s taking me.

I remember all even if I tell you none, so when she asked me what else do you remember of old days? So I told her for me memories have turned blur I cannot see those, so how do you think I would feel or even keep them in the creeks of my mind. But the reality was, can we forget part our being that was once amputated? No we cannot, the truth is we never stop feeling the phantom pain for was once there.

I wonder if I’ll ever stop of falling. For those who want to explore more than love, who want to wander more.

It has been a while and I haven’t been able to forget. When I sit alone in the middle of the night, listening to the silence, I try to find the missing part of my life. I know that it can’t. I had often wondered what sadness feels like. I do, now it feels like everything is falling apart.

I wonder if we’ll ever be on the same page. Or will I always meet them at the wrong place or the wrong time. If I’ll always meet them when they’re still hurting from a love they lost or closing their hearts off because they’re scared.

~ Siddhant

Irresistible Introvert

“Writing is something you do alone. It’s a proffesion for introverts who want to tell you a story but don’t want to make eye contact while doing it.”

In all honesty, anxiety makes you look like an idiot. I don’t reach out to people. I’m terrified of talking on the phone and starting conversation with strangers. I’m scared of texting certain friends and coming on too strong. So I wait too long to answer back. I don’t let on that I care. But I care more than anyone realizes. I care so much it hurts.

I come across as a snob, because I find it hard to talk, hard to force a smile. But I’m not trying to be rude. I’m not a good conversationalist – and it makes me seem like a shitty friend. Trust me it is the worst feeling. I don’t jump into conversations. I’m quiet in groups. People assume that I’m sitting there, judging them, but I’m just in awe of how easily they can communicate. How natural it is for them. How human they are. I hate myself I’m an anxious introvert.

Of course, they don’t realize that I have anxiety. They just think I’m quiet. Shy. No, they don’t realize I have anxiety, because I’m not shaking at the table hyperventilating into a paper bag. My meltdowns happen before I see them. The night before, on my drive back home, I’m freaking out the entire time. Imagining all of the things that could go wrong. Picturing how embarrassed I’ll be.

But when I’m finally in public, I internalize everything. I’m still anxious. I’m just not showing it. Secretly, I’m freaking out over what I look like. Freaking out over why someone across the room gave me a strange look. And if I need to compose myself, I’ll escape to the bathroom and heavy breathe inside of a stall or splash water across my face, and then walk back into the room like I’m perfectly fine.

But I’m not fine. Anxiety makes sure I’m never fine. It makes me turn down opportunities that I know I’d enjoy. It makes me stay quiet when I have something important to say. It makes me look like an idiot. And that’s why I lose people. A lot of them.

Be your own Superhero

When you’re a deep thinker, with a sensitive soul, you have a tendency to overanalyze and overthink. You don’t give yourself a break and you’re always too hard on yourself.

You take people’s words seriously, you try to interpret exactly what they meant or how they said things. You drive yourself crazy because a part of you wants to ask them why they said that and the other just doesn’t want to sound insane.

You see the world in black and white because you can’t be in the middle, you can’t settle for grey, you don’t know how to half-feel, half-love or half-live. You either give your all or you feel empty all the time. You’ve been called too many things; too sensitive, too deep, too emotional, too serious, non-chill, crazy, indecisive and my all-time favourite, an idealist. You always feel like you don’t belong. You have this inner struggle to be present in life but most of the time you don’t belong. You have this inner struggle to be present in life but most of the time you don’t really feel connected to your environment or the people around you.

You crave love most of the time but you don’t like to put yourself out there much. Your heart is fragile and hopeful so when you don’t get the affection or the love you were looking for, it breaks you. You’re always trying to find meaning behind everything. Meaning behind your pain. Meaning behind your losses. You can’t just live without trying to find answers to the questions you have.

But when you’re both a deep thinker and sensitive soul, remember this – you have something special, you have art, you have magic within you, something about this unique pairing fuels the fire within you to be someone with remembering, to do something extraordinary for the world, to use all the madness inside you and turn it into wisdom. You become an alchemist, transforming your pain and darkness into gold.

And maybe the world is too hard on you because you’re someone people look upto you and they want to know that you’ll keep on fighting. They want to know you’ll keep on trying, you’ll keep on building your own life and carving your own path because that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes you extraordinary – your ability to live when everything around you is killing you. Be your own superhero.

(Dear best friend this one is for you)



I wish there was a way to say what I’m really feeling. But I’m scared of poisoning another soul. The purity of another person is something I don’t want to infect. I’m stuck with this curse of caring and there’s nothing for me to do about it. I’m terrified of hurting someone. I am such a freaking hurricane, how could I do that to another soul? I wish fear and guilt didn’t keep me trapped inside the labyrinth of my messed up mind.

When you lose someone when you have anxiety, your nervous habits will heighten. Your tendencies to retreat with multiply. Your anxiousness will get worse. This person used to be your rock. They used to be the one to stop all the panicking and the fretting.

Every memory of you, every replay of your lips touching mine is playing continuously in my mind. They’re no longer my private fantasies. They’re haunted by the knowledge that I’m the one who can’t let go. The one of our firsts. We did have fun, and I guess we’ll always be special to each other in a sense.

But how do I sleep when I know I will not feel the same magic touch, the same fiery lips that I crave so much? How do I not hurt at the fact that I will never feel that again? Never to look into your eyes or feel your skin against mine, never hold you close when you’re cold. I guess I should be grateful that you’re still there in a way. And who knows? Maybe I have it all wrong.

But it doesn’t change the fact that the you I want so much, the part that I crave like an addict craves his drug, is gone now. And I don’t know what to do. Those memories are ours, but I don’t know how to reclaim them. They’re fresh and oh so vivid. I am getting pushed out of the frame. So I’m lying in the dark, rain from the thunderstorm is crashing steadily against the window with lightning flashing every five seconds.

I just wish you were here. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I wasn’t fighting tears and gasping for breath through the sting. You’re the storm in the dark of my life. You crashed in an shook my foundation and changed everything : the way I thought, the way I felt, the way I lived. You showed me passion and fire. You evoked the want and desperate need to cleanse my soul. You made me laugh, you made me feel. But you were gone now. Our fire is fading. When dawn breaks we’ll be moving on, with gentle raindrops crashing my cheek, stinging my eyes before they blow through to the next life, but I’ll be here, waiting for the next storm, part of me hoping it’ll be you again. My feet stepped away from my world, a walking token of our splendid memories – but my heart, my weak heart, trembling little heart still clings and finds a way to her wherever she goes.

~ Anonymous