Things I Will Never Tell You #1

In which I write. Get the truth off my chest. Voice out the words I wish I could say to your face.


To not say a word. I have decided that indifference should be the order of the day with you. I always voiced my opinions to you, something I was never afraid to before, but now I feel I can’t. That I shouldn’t.

I hate walking into school and being ignored by you. So, I won’t say a thing.
But I am proud and I won’t take the first step either.

I do not like the people you hang out with. Period. Nothing more, nothing less.
My head spins like a never ending carousel. A kaleidoscope that makes me dizzy. The colours are nauseating.

Apparently, you’re going through some ‘shit’ in life. Let me ask you this, did I claim my ears were closed off to you? I always thought of myself to be a good listener. Guess, it doesn’t mean much if you won’t share your problems with me.

Make your move tomorrow. Take the agonizingly slow steps towards me. Embrace me in your hugs and whisper that you missed me. And I will squeeze harder and scream i missed you too.


“Have you ever…

“Have you ever looked into supernovas? So a star explodes and creates this light – so brilliant, so powerful, so bright that it shines more spectacularly than every other star in the sky combined, but briefly – then it’s gone. A black hole. Nothing can escape. No light. But during that brief amount of time […]

At Odds


In the fervor of yesterday…We.Are.At.Odds.

I haven’t quite understood why. All i know is that rage speaks louder than a bomb. Courses through my veins. And all i see. All i want to see is RED.

She hurt me.

Pain so permanent, like the ink on my skin.

Broke my bones in an alley fight.

Left me there to die.

He made me cry.

Never before have i so.

My mascara flowed down my face.

Tears black, just as he prophesied.

Her heart is black.

Like lungs damaged beyond repair.


Rotting away.

He called me out on my secrets.

Reserved only for his ears.

He said he wouldn’t pass judgement.

Guess, i was just stupid.

Her smile.

Brought a smile to my face.

Filled up the whole room, cliche shit.

I hated that about her.

His hugs were warm.

Boiler room warm.

Peel away your skin hot.

I didn’t enjoy them.

She has a slight lisp.

It made me look at her lips.

Annoyed me, all the time.

She thought i wanted to kiss.

He craved my kisses.

All the time.

His eyes always found them.

It was like everything was purely physical.

I knew she would pull a stunt like that.

She wants remorse.

She wants pity.

Claiming i cheated.

Of course, he cheated.

I always have to clear up.

They always have a hard time accepting it.

Golden boy, and all.

Shit, she looks hot.

Even though i have the hottest girl on my arms.

My eyes don’t leave hers.

She knows and she has the smirk to prove it.

I slapped her.

She had no right to be on his arms like that.

That space is solely reserved for me.

God, why won’t he just man up and grovel.

Oh, she’s going to prom with him.


He won’t even know what hit him.

When i beat his face in.

I knew it.

He was jealous.

My ex-date has the black eye to prove it.

I knew it all along.

She’s mine.

And she’s doing that smile thing again.

Seriously, i hate it.

I whisper in her ear.

I only smile more.

Pull him closer to me.

As we dance.

Yeah, this is ‘our’ new song.



Dear Time,

Slow down. Seriously, slow down. I’m not ready.

I know i said that i wish i could just grow up, but you need to understand. The fact that i was a child then, should make all the difference. I didn’t know what exactly i was asking for. The ticking clock scares me.





That is all it ever does. Other than flying by like there is no tomorrow. Is there a tomorrow?

You always end up leaving me at a crossroads, with just not enough time. So little time that making a decision becomes impossible. And then i need to jump & move forward & move backward all at the same time.

Roll the dice. You end up moving. Then you end up going back.

Something is going to happen. I know it is. And i know you know what exactly it is. Just give me time. To decide & prepare a contingency & then fall on that safety net.

The anxiety. The stress. Is too much. Just tell me. Why are you in such a hurry? Can i please take back my wish? Send me away to Neverland. I know they cheat you there. Why can’t i cheat you here?

I can’t even run away. Because wherever i turn i find you. Mocking & Scaring & Smiling & Knowing. That at the end of the day it all comes down to you. You.

You have my planner. My schedule. And you tweak it & tweak it. Till you know that time is up and i have to make a choice. But you also know i hate making choices. Decisions and I don’t exactly mix. Water and oil. Completely separate entities. Then why do you mix? Why do you continuously challenge? Knowing that we try& fail at the same time.

Maybe. Someday. I hope. You realise what exactly you did to me. How much you inflicted on me.





Was it really? No. Maybe. Fun at the expense of others? Is it really? Yes.

Confession pages took storm in many countries before my own. So, i was very much new to it. Still am because i could not quite grasp the concept of it. 


Why would you ever want to confess to complete strangers? Many of us trouble confessing to our own family and friends. ‘Oh, because it’s safe under the haze of anonymity.’ Well, yes that makes everything so much better.

In a world where bullying is a major problem. Where sticks and stones are nothing in comparison to words, do we really need another outlet to express our feelings? Or heaven forbid, confess our feelings about other individuals?

These confession pages are being used as another outlet to bully. And boy is bullying running amok. You think people won’t recognize who is being talked about? If you made the observation, then they did too. But is hurting someone’s feelings above you? It’s all innocent fun. Laughs and entertainment until someone close to you is affected. Or you.


It does come back to bite you. Trust me, it will eventually. Picking out someone’s flaws bit by bit is no quality that people like. ‘Oh, but we’re anonymous. No one knows.’ You know. Shouldn’t that be enough? Do you really feel that your words won’t hurt? That the bruises you inflict on a person’s soul. Character. Will go unnoticed? You peel away their skin when you speak. Leave it raw. So, that as it grows back it inflicts even more pain.

Many of you will argue that it gives a safe environment to voice out opinions and has a psychological effect that benefits us. No. Because in no way is that environment safe. I felt vulnerable even though i wasn’t talked about. There were some things that weren’t even funny. In fact, they were down right offensive and life threatening. You do not confess to random strangers. You confess in a safe environment. To a counselor. Therapist. Someone who won’t hold what you said against your head.To someone who values confidentiality. 

School confession pages are gossip. And yes, we belong to the ‘gossip girl’ culture. But since when has gossip become harmless? 

When my class had a discussion about this with our teacher, all the colour left my face. I felt it drain away. Goosebumps appeared on my skin. It had such a haunting effect on me that i was unable to think about anything else but that for the rest of the day. 


When you wake up in the morning. When you leave for work. Or go to a party. Do you want the price tag of your clothes showing? For everyone to pass judgement and point? It’ll happen. Because your past does catch up with you. It isn’t easy being called names. To be bullied, albeit for a short amount of time. Trust me.

My Escape


A book already holds a distinct story. But when you walk into a used bookstore the stories seem more real than before. I never truly understood the concept of buying used books until the day my mother took me to one. Piled upon each other they rose towards the ceiling, an adventure on its own to find the treasure – the right book.

That day I bought a dozen books. Those out of print and some just looking for a home – a homeless good story. My nose pressed to the pages held a completely new smell. Musty and old. Grease marks, pen marks, scribbles of notes, autographs, dedications and dog ears. A story within a story was present as I read the different dedications – mother to daughter, proclamations of love, friend to friend.

New books do not hold that extra story. Digital books fail to bring companionship. Just the thought of someone else reading the same book, the same page as me makes all the difference. The musty smell of history and lives lived is incomparable.


When I open a book I expect for the story to blow me away. Break a dandelion, bring it close and just blow. So, that every little piece goes flying, floating in the air. Waiting to cling onto another’s sweater, coat, and dress. The stories cling to me like a second skin. If you look close enough I relive the scars of characters, rich with depth and ingenuity. My laugh lines match theirs. Their happy ending becomes mine.

Especially good books tend to evoke emotions in me that even I don’t understand. Strung together like beads in a necklace, pull too hard and they’ll fall apart. Break away and release. Keep them tethered close and your fear of losing them runs dry. I, too often, find myself crying tears of joy and sorrow. The character’s pain becomes my pain. And suddenly, the world seems different. I see everything through the lens of a kaleidoscope and I know. My feet fill their shoes and I imagine myself as them. In that moment, I am ready.

She Dreamed of Wonderland


Glass slippers
Crack in the cold
Withstanding no more

Her feet blue
Dress trailing behind
Careful patterns in the snow

Kiss upon kiss
On her face
Delicate whispers
From falling snowflakes

White so pure
And frightening
She walks in a daze
Land unknown yet so known

Floating away
She caresses the ground
With her gentle mince

Her heart
A bird trapped
Future dedicated to subservience

The fresh smell of snow
Snowflakes instead of teardrops
Freedom in its simplest form
Her bare feet against the cold Earth
Whispers only she understands
The language she shares with the wind
She dreamed of wonderland

Family vs. Friends


What do you do when you have to choose between your family and your friends? Two parts of your body, like the arms attached to your torso. Both close enough to touch, yet divided by an invisible line. But aren’t your friends your family too? You know them like the anatomy of your body. Every crevice, every dimple, every birthmark, every mole. They say your friends are the family you choose but what do you do when you have to make a further choice? And the outcomes are the same at either decisions. Who do you pick? Friend? Or family?

I guess the logical thing to do would be to listen to your heart. Scratch that. There is never a logical thing to do. Well then, how about this? You leap. You have an idea of what awaits you below but then again you never really know. All you decide is whether you want to be as graceful as a ballerina or just canon-ball straight in.

My dad always says, “Don’t stress. Just relax and live your life like that.” And me being the ever stressful person who welcomes stress by leaving the front door wide open. So that stress never lives life homeless and i am the one who gives stress food and warmth. Why? Because no matter how many times i’m told, i don’t know the first thing about living a life without fretting and stressing.

I asked my heart what i should do. And i already knew what it would say. Yet, i still heard her answer. “Family.” That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just save me from the aftermath of it all, though.