liittle sister of @amulyafreelancerr on Mirakee❤️ in the process of thinking whether i should leave this place or not. :)

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  • _aradhya 15w

    @amulyafreelancerr Hey, happy birthday, I love you❤️

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    Happy Birthday Bhaiya

    Okay. Where do I start? How do I start? Let's start by saying, a very happy birthday bhaiya. I'll just try to write as much as I can in this and tell you yet again how grateful I am for you. Bhaiya, things have been tough some times. There were days when I could not bring myself to feel good, and there were nights where I just wished everything would stop and pause itself for a while because the chaos got too much.

    But then you come and you do something like watching a movie or of course The Office series we are trying to complete (btw, Schitt's Creek and TBBT bacha hai yaar dekh lena kisi din saath me, please). I don't even have to tell you if something has happened, and you always make me feel better. I don't know how my days and my afternoons and nights will go after this Corona time period ends and things go back the way they were before, because I'm used to sitting to eat lunch and waiting for you to come. I'm used to dinners with you beside me, and us laughing. I'm used to doing fun things with you, and it sucks that things will go back to the way they were before and you will move back to the city.

    You've always stuck by my side, you've made me understand things. You've been patient. And let's be honest, I am not scared of mumma or papa as much as I am scared of you. But if I fear you, I love you ten times more. You asked for a sister and even named her 'Sona'. And I thank my lucky stars that I got an elder brother like you. I love how you bluntly and brutally be honest with me about stuff even when at that particular moment, it hurts. (Truth always hurts but I admire you for always being truthful)

    Bhaiya, I can't express, literally I can't express in words how much you mean to me and how much I love you. If you weren't there, I don't think I would be too. I am me, and I know I've said this before, I am me because of you.

    You are my biggest inspiration in writing.
    I love you bhaiya. And I can't thank god enough for giving me a brother like you. I love you Bhaiyaaaa❤️

    Happy birthday!

    Your chhoti si pyari si cute si behen

  • _aradhya 16w

    @manasaa Hey, happy sweet 16❤️ Ily

    Uninstalling mirakee now. Won't be installing for a month or so, thought anyone who would read this should know. Take care everyone.

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    Happy Birthday Manu❤️

    Hey Manu. A very happy birthday to you, I love you so much. You have been a constant from so many months, we did not talk for a couple of months due to my break but you, you had been there always reading me and talking to me. You're strong, lovely and an absolutely incredible person. I'm so glad I met you honestly, you're such a wonderful soul. I hope that as each day passes, you learn something and you keep growing, and that on your tough days, you find the strength to fight them and on your good days, I hope the happiness and the joy in them remains the same.

    You're loved, you're amazing. I hope you know that.

    I'm sorry I couldn't write something, I'm stuck and occupied with a lot of things. But just know, that I'm always there with you. Take care Manu, happy birthday once again.
    - Aradhya

  • _aradhya 16w


    Have you ever been in the kind of situation where you feel like everything could have been better had this or that not happened? Like you were really happy one moment but then suddenly something happens and all you can think about is how fucked up things became in split second? And you forget how happy things were the previous moment, or at least you try to because thinking about it hurts you more and more?

    You have an outburst when things suddenly become chaotic because this kind of chaos was unexpected, so it caught you off guard. Thus, the outburst. But that outburst is abruptly and plainly stopped, and you feel something within you which is quite hard to explain but if anyone reading this has felt anything slightly close to this and can pen down that particular feeling in words, you're more than welcome to do so.

    Anyway, when the outburst is suddenly and abruptly stopped, you internally keep shouting and you don't know what to think but you're constantly speaking something inside. Your mouth remains shut. You suddenly have tears because you have this urge to speak something out while at the same time feeling like "What's the point of doing so?". So you're standing at crossroads not knowing what to do, or what to think. So you just shut up for everyone's sake and maybe for yours as well.

    You know things will be okay but at that particular moment you can't help feeling that the world is going against you. You know this feeling is temporary but the fear of it becoming permanent and/or frequent makes you shit scared so you're stuck fearing and praying that this feeling goes away.

    And then you find this one place, probably your washroom or your own room or terrace/balcony, basically somewhere where you are sure that no one can see you or hear you. Then in that place, you sit/stand and you stare at a point thinking about the thing that just happened, and you start muttering or you mouth words and be angry and sad and hurt. You are vulnerable in that place, crying, being a mess, and a little tiny part of you wishes that someone could see how vulnerable you actually are. And you talk to the walls of the room or the sky of your terrace as if that is a real person listening to you.

    Worst thing is, when one particular thing takes you back to moments where you felt the same equal hurt and now you're stuck thinking about two things which date you back to more and more things and now you're just stuck feeling more hurt.

    Then you stop crying, because you know it's been too late and people probably your family members (if they care enough) could notice that you've been gone too long. And then they can question you and you know you are bad at lying or if you're good at it, you don't want to lie, so you pick yourself up and go outside and pretend everything's fine and you're good.

    You scroll through apps, chats, people, do classes/attend work, talk to someone, laugh at memes and YouTube videos, but then that feeling is still lingering in you.

    Or is this just me?

  • _aradhya 17w

    Idk, just read.

    @samarlexis because you're here abhi thore time :"(

    @jerry_21 @dusky_dawn @inhabited

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    The window that never got fixed

    I've thought about reaching your doorstep
    And ringing your bell, and if you don't open
    I'll make a way to get in from the broken window
    Which your mother told you to get fixed.
    But you didn't, you said the cash didn't allow you to do so,
    So now you're stuck with this thought
    That maybe someday, I'll break in.
    You stay awake at nights,
    You stayed awake before too
    But you didn't have a purpose
    So whenever someone asked you about the dark circles
    You'd say, "I don't know, maybe I should get enough sleep."
    And then came many suggestions
    For fighting insomnia.
    Little did they know, it wasn't you fighting insomnia
    It was you fighting numbness.
    But now, you had a purpose.
    If somebody asks you now, you'd say, "Anybody can break in through the window."
    A perfect excuse.
    A perfect purpose.
    To stay awake.

    I've watched your steps,
    Like a predator carefully observing its prey
    Before it springs onto the prey.
    You don't really have a life, you're like me.
    You go to the same places.
    You drink the same drinks everyday.
    You smell of Hennessy most of the times.
    Your lipstick is smeared when you return.
    And I see a part of you fading away
    Everytime you come back home.
    When it's late, I can see you sitting on the doorstep.
    You stare into my direction,
    Then you look at the sky, and you go in.
    I come out from hiding, and see your bedroom light on. It stays on, I see your shadow as you stand behind the curtains. Sit, stand, sit, stand.

    Yesterday, you got your window fixed.
    And you stared at the tree from where I used to observe you.
    Hiding in the shadows, I felt like it was a message you gave me
    Not to come near you again.
    And how by fixing the window,
    You wanted to sleep again, and not feel cautious of me anymore.

    You closed your window right away when it was fixed.

    That night, I was disheartened.
    You asked me to leave,
    Without even asking me.
    I went around your house, to take one last glance.
    And I saw, the window
    Was this an invitation?
    I didn't know. But I was ready to intrude,
    I broke in.
    I went inside.

    I went inside
    Only to see your pale body on the ground
    Your blood flowing from your wrist.

    It was official now,
    you had already died inside.
    Now you did for everyone.
    Even for me.

  • _aradhya 17w

    Ah yes.

    @thefoxisdead when I read too much of you, this is what happens :) thanks to your piece for introducing the word "dilapidated".

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @morsel @jerry_21

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    The Pleasant Dilapidated Poetries

    I feel like my poetries
    Are composed of this hope
    Which does not liberate you
    From your sufferings.
    Rather, it puts you in a more desolated place
    Filled with denial, non-acceptance;
    A place where you go astray from reality.
    I try to fill these abstract emotions
    In spaces and gaps
    Where the devil already resides.
    I learned a new word today, dilapidated.
    According to Google,
    "It is a state of disrepair, or ruin,
    As a result of age or
    And isn't this how all my poetries are?
    Broken, ruined,
    Neglected from the truth
    Weaving a web of lies.
    Oh and darling, the lies are always written
    The truths are always ugly.
    The lies are always satisfactory because
    The truths are always undesirable.

    And vice versa.

    So when you lock the door
    And sit down to read my poetries
    To feel safe, to feel something close to warmth
    I know it's not the warmth you feel,
    It's the heat of the fire that is
    Slowly and steadily reaching you
    And will come and burn down your palace
    Reeking with kerosene's smell
    Which my words silently spread.
    But the scariest part about this,
    Is the fact that I know
    What a perfect delusional reality
    My poetries make.
    And I still continue to write them.
    Because honey, these delusional realities
    Aren't just a coping mechanism for me,
    But they are for you too.
    Though they prepare you for your own Ragnarok, your own doomsday,
    You still read them and believe
    That there might be some hope left for you
    To avoid you from slitting your wrist
    Or hanging and choking yourself.
    If you've reached here
    And still haven't walked away
    It's too late for you to walk away.
    So when I write something defining false hope next time
    You'll come back, crawling.
    To my happy starting and my happy endings
    And read it over and over again
    Because you love to believe that endings can be happy too.

    As for this one,
    You'll not read it again
    Because it does not end happy
    And it is plainly the truth
    You've been trying to avoid.

  • _aradhya 18w

    @morsel good morning. Trying to write a damn funny caption to tag you, so that I can even out the emotion in the piece. Go ahead, read it. You deserve all the love in this world. Ro bhi lena. I love you❤️

    Oh and these lines are for you-:
    "Cause there is no guarantee
    That this life is easy
    Yeah, when my world is falling apart
    When there's no light to break up the dark
    That's when I, I
    I look at you
    When the waves
    Are flooding the shore and I can't
    Find my way home anymore
    That's when I, I
    I look at you."
    - When I Look At You, Miley Cyrus
    Listen to the whole song, yeah?❤️ Take care you.

    @samarlexis @jerry_21 @dusky_dawn tagging you guys is a habit now *_*

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    How do I begin writing about someone
    Who leaves me speechless and takes away my words with everything she does?
    How do I explain someone
    Who makes me feel that no amount of words for her are enough?
    That's how she is.
    A perfect amalgamation of
    Prose and poetry,
    Myriad of shades and a perfect hue,
    And even if her hue becomes disoriented,
    I find myself gaping in awe
    With the kind of chaos she creates
    For her chaos and mess ain't chaos and mess.
    It's art. It's a masterpiece she carries so perfectly well
    That you wouldn't even know her hue is disoriented.
    And that is something that should be appreciated often.
    In fact, she deserves all the appreciations.
    Personally, she should be lauded, with metaphors.
    Hell, even the literary devices would fail to explain
    The kind of masterpiece she is in herself.

    I want to paint every shade of her, every aspect of her
    With my words and this blue ink.
    I'm writing and writing about her mindlessly
    Because she's so effortless
    Writing about her is effortless.
    Yes, it's a different thing.
    To explain her completely, and entangle every string of her
    Because that would take I don't know how many universes.
    But I'll entangle as many threads as I can
    Because I have her in this one. And I wish I have her in other universes as well.
    Our fate collided one fine day, and I'm so glad they did.
    The day they did, I knew she was something.
    What I didn't know, is that she would turn out to be someone
    Who makes me thankful for my existence and for hers as well.
    Someone who makes me feel like I'm worthy of all the good things in life
    Like I'm not devoid of love.
    So I won't leave any chance,
    Of making her feel the same.

    I hope you find yourself in these words,
    If not the words, I hope you find yourself in the spaces of every stanza and every letter.
    Consider this your home,
    Come rest here, let the voices inside your mind hush themselves in this mere poetry.
    Your voice, hearing it, takes me to another world
    A world which describes utopia
    Where it's just you and I
    In a place which is formless; I can't describe what it looks like.
    But I can tell you what it feels like
    It feels calm. It feels like warmth.
    It feels home.
    Or maybe it's you, who feels like home.

    "How can I call love?
    Without photographs
    Without the candlelights
    Without candy floss and firelights
    I call it home and I call it her's."

    If I'm your home
    You're the reason why this home hasn't turned into a house.

    "She is enough
    To break my infinity
    To make my sky gleam
    To bring that same home."

    My infinity diffuses with your infinity
    Like the pieces of a puzzle.
    That were lost in this space once.
    You are my sky, and you are my home.
    Above all, you are mine.

  • _aradhya 18w

    "If you stay forever, let me hold your hand
    I can fill those places in your heart no else can
    Let me show you love, oh, I don't pretend, yeah
    I'll be right here, baby, you know I'll sink or swim."
    - At My Worst, Pink Sweats

    Didn't re-read :")

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @morsel @sifar

    @writersnetwork #pod

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    This Universe or Another Universe

    Under the lilac skies, I have seen dreams of you and I becoming an us. But then as the dust from the atmosphere settled on my ukulele, I found those dreams to be a lost cause, a dream built on bleak bricks.

    I think I'll make my peace with our fate. The lines of our palm were never meant to be, anyway. I'm almost sure that you don't love me back, after all why would you? Why should you? I know I'm falling for you, slowly and steadily with every thing you say or do. Even as you stay still, you're so perfectly woven.

    Yes, you have your insecurities. Your own imperfections. And your own past. But I love how you make me feel, like I'm worth all the love in this world. Like I deserve to be on this earth. But it sucks, because I feel like I deserve to be with you. Do you feel the same too? God, I'm almost sure you don't but the part of me which believes in happy endings makes me think that maybe, in some universe if not this one, you love me back.

    And then the reason why I keep trying and fall back into the same feeling over and over again, is because I can't help feeling that maybe, or what if, this is that universe? In the aesthetic that I paint, a world where just you and I are present all night stargazing, is my favourite aesthetic. I don't know what to name it, so I'll just call it 'us'. And as my eyes start closing, I know that the last name I mutter under my breath before falling asleep is yours.

    And then the name I mutter as soon as I wake up, is yours. So my morning begins with you, and it ends with you.

    So tell me, is this that universe, where I don't just have to dream but us is a reality? Or is it just my cloudy head, occupied with things that are pleasant but never meant to happen?

    Do tell me, if you can, do you love me back in any of the universe? And is it this universe? Because I'll wait till that universe comes. After all, I'm good at waiting.

  • _aradhya 18w

    "The most beautiful thoughts are always beside the darkest."
    - I Thought About Killing You, Kanye West

    @samarlexis @jerry_21 @dusky_dawn @morsel

    @writersnetwork good morning wn, thank you��❤️ #pod

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    I've been raised in hell
    Where every hour felt like the devil's hour.
    I would see deep blue eyes
    The most beautiful ones
    Behold the darkest secrets.
    And the next thing I know,
    I'm standing in front of their graves.
    Some of them are still out there
    Pieces of them, found, recovered
    And with them got buried every secret they ever wished to speak.
    When you tell me that love can heal the world
    I want to believe it. Genuinely.
    I've seen love when a mother asks her kid to run away
    As she is held at gunpoint.
    And I've seen love when the kid decides to stay.
    I've seen the battle between the mother and kid
    Deciding who must run away and who must die.
    The next thing I know, the kid's running down the street
    Splashes of blood on his face, horror in his eyes
    He just saw his love shot in the head with a gun too heavy to describe.

    And with every kid that comes running down the street
    Or with every mother or father or sister or brother who holds the pale body of a kid
    Love fades away a little bit more.
    And heaven becomes utopia a little bit more.
    I've seen people die inside
    Way before their heartbeat stopped and they were declared dead to the world.
    Every day, every minute, every hour
    Feels a blessing
    And we thank God for not being the decayed bodies and not being held at gunpoint.
    But it is more of a curse
    Because what's the point of living a life
    Where you don't even know what it's like to 'live' a life and
    You are running from the demons outside and inside.

    I wonder if there exists a world outside this world
    I wonder if there is some sort of parallel universe
    Where there is another me, who's comparatively happier
    And hasn't seen death
    Or if she has, she hasn't seen it enough to get accustomed to it.
    I wonder if there really exists a utopian version of a world which is inside my head
    Where hope is a flower
    Which blooms every day
    And doesn't die every single day.
    Where dreams are seen and they are achieved
    Instead of buried.
    And there exists people with beautiful eyes
    Who don't behold the darkest of secrets.
    I wonder if it's all just a dream
    Or maybe I know about a reality
    Without even experiencing it.

  • _aradhya 19w

    My heart has never been broken, tab ye haal hai. Thinking of all the "masterpieces" i'll bring to this world when my heart actually gets broken :)
    I don't make sense some days. Bare with me.

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @jerry_21

    @writersnetwork AHHH AFTER I DONT KNOW HOW MANY WRITEUPS! Thank you❤️��

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    Love Ain't Love Anymore.

    Love is cruel.
    Like the hidden pain inside your heart which seems to hold on to you. Reaches inside you, grabs you by the waist, makes you waltz, and just when you let loose yourself and try to embrace it, it goes away.
    And it goes away in such a manner that it feels like as if it was never there with you. It feels like a dream, where you woke up to the reality suddenly hitting you.

    Love is hurt.
    Like the parallel lines you want to meet. But how can parallel lines ever meet? But it makes you believe they can, after all love makes you believe that you two were the parallel lines which will meet. Named it under "We will do the unthinkable things with 'us', love" but always makes you oblivious to this concept of manipulation.
    It makes you feel these butterflies inside you which make you feel good about yourself but then they start eating you from inside, making you feel much more worse.

    Love is irreplaceable.
    Like the sad realization which you want to drive away. It's the kind of song you have in your head, even if it's the one you hate, you know it's there. And you can't replace it. Because before the hurt, it made you feel so good, made you feel as if you are on top of the world and nothing could shatter you down. But then it does the same, and it does it so perfectly that you almost are in awe of the kind of destruction it brought you. Such a perfectly painted hue of blue, you are left mesmerized even by the hurt it caused you.
    Unfortunately, it made you feel the pain but it also made you feel the kind of things you would die to feel again. But nobody is like love. And love made sure nobody can be like love. Love made sure you thought of it as the best, and it made sure that even after you started thinking the worst of it, you'll never find what you found the best in it.

    Love stops being love.
    It does. It's not love anymore. Maybe never was. Maybe love was all in your head but you were never in it's head. Maybe love was a facade.

    Was love ever there?
    Or was it just in your head?

  • _aradhya 19w

    Yellow Dress

    Maybe if someday,
    I can muster up the courage to walk up to him
    Wearing that yellow dress
    And those white sandals
    And confess to him.
    Not my love, but my hatred.
    Not my hurt, but my anger.
    Not my doom, but the cause.
    The cause. The cause. The cause.
    He's the cause for my destruction.

    I was just 10 when I saw my innocence drain
    From my vagina which bled because of the bruises you left.
    Oh it hurts, more than the bruises
    My soul hurts.
    How innocence is just a jar of glass
    And that it can only take a moment.
    A few pushing in and pushing out and a few cries and shuddering
    A few wounds in places which you felt like you owned,
    Is all it takes
    To break it.
    And once the jar breaks
    You break. Your insides are damaged, your throat is choked, your idea of love breaks.
    It's sad when it's your own blood who does this
    Family, you said?
    Love, you said?
    I see, okay, understood uncle.
    Wait till my father hears this,
    Oh wait. He can't.
    Because I'll never say.
    And neither will you. Of course you won't.
    Because how can you justify "love" between a girl of 10 and a man in his 40s? How can you describe a forced sexual "relationship" between girl of 10 and a man in his 40s?

    Above all, how can you justify rape? No matter the age. No matter the difference. No matter the gender. How can you ever justify rape?

    It's been ten years to this,
    My mum puts a garland on my photo every single day. A new one.
    It's flowers are yellow
    If only she knew how much I hated yellow.
    Everything about yellow.
    I wish I could tell her. I wish I could tell her what happened that night
    How I grew up that night.
    How I saw the world a little differently that night.
    How I wished for death that night, and how my wish was granted by two hands on my neck strangling me, that night.

    Maybe someday
    I can muster up the courage to wear the yellow dress and the white sandals
    And walk up to you with my blood on my hands
    And show you how I never died. I faded away but I was always present.
    Yet it sucks. Because even after I died
    I still have haunting dreams
    That you can somehow touch me again.
    Even after I'm dead,
    I still am alive with your memories.

    And above all, I died with the yellow dress
    Stained with blood.
    And now I wear the dress and walk this earth.
    The yellow dress, the bloody dress. The gift from my father, the curse it became.
    The yellow dress.