Fleeting Muses.

Originally written on Jun 23 2019 but some overlap issue kept happening with this post.  It’s almost time to say goodbye to my apartment. This is my last weekend here and I feel like I still haven’t registered that. I just had a moment of realization after finishing watching a Gossip Girl episode and sitting on my chair to just chill. As soon as I did, I felt this “omg, this is the last time I’m doing this here”. It’s weird how you don’t realize but you get into routines and comforts of places and people. It’s not like I loved this place, I went through a lot living here, but it is still important to me. May be that’s why it is important to me. This is where I learned to be independent, finally. This is where I became a whole person, by myself, managing my own sorrows and happinesses. I learnt more procrastinating because it is easier when alone but I also learned how to get over that inertia without external factors. Is that an important skill in life? Probably not, because most

Walking towards him, towards the one that made her happy for the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn't ready. It almost felt like not wanting to take that chance. She wasn't ready to walk  away, not ready to let go of the all consuming love - the one that wasn't just sweet conversations, the one that wasn't just existing together happily. It was the one that made her who she was, it was the one that made her feel weak the only time. It was the one with which by her side they could conquer the world.. if they understood that. If they understood they weren't competing, if they understood how they loved each other. If they understood what was animosity and what was inability to understand emotions. If they understood, change is constant but feelings can stay, if they understood being the best is not all that matters and that powers that come together can be fragile when they converge. That all consuming love is the hardest. That it doesn't just happe

What do I wanna write about? I want to write but don't know about whom. I want to create something to feel creatively fulfilled but I don't know what to pick. Should I write about the character that is so detached from the world she isn't sure who she is anymore? Or should I write about the one who is taking the world by a storm with her hard work and talent? Should I write poetry today or should I write a prose? Should I write a rap almost that can be turned into music or should I just focus on the characters forgetting everything? What are we seeking as writers? Is it the need to tell a story or is it to create characters? Is it so people can relate or is it to inspire? Or.. is it simply so we can connect to a few souls? What makes me want to write? What makes other people want to write? What makes them want to be creative and what makes them want to shut off their doors? What is it that we are fueled by? Are we really specks of the universe? Do we get affected if tw

I didn't think projecting feelings was a real thing. But like many other things I have learnt in past 4 years, it is actually something. And I'm not happy that I'm experiencing these all of a 'sudden'. Why is adulthood so hard? But, I digress. Story time. There once used to be a person in my life. I really liked their soul, I thought. And a feeling similar, for me is rare - well, as rare as only that one time. I literally felt something when I saw them for the first time. And, turned out, how I intuitively reacted was also my brain's reaction when getting to know them. Wow, I hadn't known people could be genuinely this nice. But, you know, 'the more you know'. It seemed like they truly tried to understand me (and everyone around them) and I was doing my best too. But then, time and again, I would get these accusations (comments? self-reflection suggestions? I don't know what the right word is) - of being selfish - at things that first, I ne

Do people really change? I have seen and met many kinds of people. It is sometimes hard to believe looking back but the types of people who have been close to me at one point or another is pretty varied. I think a part of it was my past non judging self who believed the best in people. I never thought someone could be a bad person unless they really did something, after which they were mostly cut off because I would be extremely surprised. Some of the friends I have had over my life are those who were labeled as the gundas or some other word that was thrown at them. But I never felt that. I have had hours of conversations with them, real conversations. They were perfectly 'normal' and nicest of the human beings. I still hold them close to my heart; I never cared what people say about them. But is that why those people really were good to me? That they were who I reflected them to be? But what if they had wrong deeds associated with them? What about what people said about th

Life is so full of magic. It always has been and always will be. We just need to have the right people to surround us with! It is amazing what a dose of conversation with good friends can open the door to - all the good memories from 10 (or even 15!!) years ago when we were children full of wonder for the world but living in our own little world. It is amazing how we reached from that point to today, where we have lost some of that wonder for the world because we are living it. But talking to those few in our life, the ones we grew up with or the ones we found along the way who share our values, hopes, dreams and the most of all, the reality of mind, is a real pleasure; it is what makes life beautiful. It is what brings the magic back. Sure it is possible to meet new people but is it likely that we will find people who grew up the same way? Sure we can connect with some on one level or another but will they really understand us? Or try to? I think in a world full of humans trying to p