_aradhya

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

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  • _aradhya 25w

    I replied to one of my friend's WhatsApp status update which said "crying and explaining is a different kind of hurt".

    This is the most temporary shit here on my wall. Will be gone in an hour or so, let's see. :)

    Edit: this was supposed to be temporary. But tumlog karne thori na doge. -_-

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    Rant.

    Sometimes it's so freeing though, like all your feelings had been choked up inside but then you finally cry and explain..worst is when you are crying and can't explain why but you feel why. And the worse is, when you have to pretend everything's fine behind fake smiles and laugh but inside you are just breaking down and you feel this lump in your throat.

    And that lump in your throat, when you swallow it you feel something in your stomach like it's empty yet...full? You seriously want to cry in front of everybody but you cover yourself up with these jokes and this casualness. But the same casualness, when you think bout it later, ends up hurting you. The more you pretend you're fine, the more you become worse. And isn't that worse?
    Crying and explaining and all is okay. But crying and not able to explain is another kind of hurt. On another level. And if this combines with no one being able to understand you and just giving you clichéd advice that "everything's going to be fine" that sucks :/

    And then you stop crying and laugh along with them making yourself believe that everything is fine but it's not. You honestly wanted someone to say what you're feeling is okay. You want sympathy at that time, if not empathy but the kind of sympathy you end up getting is just so fucking bad ain't it?

    Because sometimes you don't need the person to tell you that "sab thik ho jayega" sometimes you need the person to tell you "abhi kuch thik nahi hai and that is okay."

    There's a difference, wish people would get it.
    - Aradhya

  • _aradhya 25w

    "And that's the thing about illicit affairs
    And clandestine meetings
    And longing stares
    It's born from just one single glance
    But it dies, and it dies, and it dies
    A million little times"
    - Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift

    @samarlexis @dusky_dawn @jerry_21 @morsel

    @writersnetwork

    Fiction, yet non-fiction to some.

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    I don't hate my father.

    I don't hate my father. I hate the husband in him. I dislike the man in him which made the wife inside my mum go through hurt. I'm conflicted. Do I start seeing him as a man who has played his role perfectly as a father but is failing his role as a spouse? Wouldn't that be ignorance? Ignorance of the fact that he made my mum feel this hurt inside her which she can't articulate so she hides it behind fake smiles and fake laughs. My mother is the strongest woman I know, she's in fact the strongest person I know. But why is it that people who are the strongest tested the most? Let me rephrase. Why is it that people who are always trustworthy, why is it that their trust is put to test so many times?

    Over two decades of marriage built on promises and this hope that it will turn into something not regarded as a "bad decision", my mother has been put through a lot of obstacles which she did not deserve. She has been patient, she has been believing in Karma because she's seen karma working. But if there's something she wanted, was the same amount of trust from her husband. And today, I see that thread so loose. Today my mother too let loose the thread from her side with this heaviness in her heart.

    He said, "It's just texts and good mornings". Last year they were "just texts" as well. And doesn't it all start with "just texts"? I can't trust him anymore, I can't look at him anymore with the same thought. Everytime I look at him, I see a disloyal husband, not a devoted father. It's unfortunate. Believe me, I'm not hurt. Or maybe I am.

    Because when I used to think of a good man, I used to think of him, but now that I see the kind of man he is, do I start seeing all men like that? No. That's wrong right? But I've always built a good image of my ideal man based on my father but if the inspiration is revealing it's dark colours, so would the inspired image.

    I don't hate my father. I hate the husband in him. I hate anyone who puts my mother through hurt. I don't hate my father. I don't hate my-
    I don't hate-
    I don't-
    I-
    Maybe I do.
    ©_aradhya

  • _aradhya 25w

    You are like that last breath
    Which I would hold on to.
    You are like that person to me
    Who has made me feel plethora of emotions
    Comfort and wholesomeness being at the top.
    I must have done something really great in my past life (yes I believe in that stuff a lil bit) that I got to meet you. You are the poetry I can read every single day, because every time I would read you, my heart would bloom again and a smile would spread on my face.
    It's hard to meet someone with the same craziness and weirdness, so meeting you was destined for I guess, if someone is there up above, must have felt that you and I had to channel this really unique energy in order to create something way more amazing. Yes, you and I create these metaphors and these lovely memories every day.
    I'm not usually the one to pen down someone as a poetry. I usually reminisce or trace people back to memories I made with them. With you, I make them every single day. Ranging from of course changing usernames to the challenge we just participated in (which we left in the middle without saying anything xD) has so many memories in the middle.

    The fact that you trust me and the fact that you shared things with me which I don't think you've shared with a lot of people, makes me feel so special.
    This gratitude day, believe me, I can do it everyday. And you should always remember that I'm thankful for your existence Nida, I'm thankful to the kind of soul you are.
    I will always be the Garlic to your Ginger, the Potato to your Tomato, the Pakka Papad to your Kaccha Papad. And you will remain the same for me. I love you, so take this gratitude piece from my side.

    Also, forgive me, I'm not good at penning down these feelings. The piece you wrote for me, I read it every day. Every. Single. Day. And I just wanted the right moment to write this down.
    It felt right today. It felt like I had to write today. So here it is.
    Stay happy love, I'm always there for you. Love you❤️
    - Aradhya

    @morsel because I felt like it, here you go. Be a little bit shocked, Thora Khushi ke aansu bhi tapka lena, it's not as good as what you wrote but you should know I love you and I adore you❤️

    #gratitude

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  • _aradhya 25w

    This so does not make sense.
    Also didn't re-read, so understand the mistakes if any.

    #smk_avaap_ch I tried ;_;;;

    @samarlexis @morsel @dusky_dawn @jerry_21

    @writersnetwork hey.

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    If my heart was a place

    If my heart was a place
    You would see many walls built.
    But if I've let you in, you've broken that wall.
    You've broken the barriers I built around myself.
    Do you see roses and how they bleed as you touch them?
    Do you see the way it rains almost every night?
    Do you feel the longingness inside my heart?
    For someone to sweep me off my feet? My heart has forgotten how it feels to be loved. You will never see lilac skies and beautiful proses and poetry residing there. Oh wait, there's this one corner where all the poetries I wrote for someone resides. That someone is out there existing like a speck of dust. Notice how I can't write about anything else? Notice how I write only the same things over and over again using the same words I used last time? If you decided to visit my heart today, you'll feel the hurt and the love. You'll feel the happiness and the sadness, you'll feel strange and you'll feel comfort.
    But if there's something you can always take back from my heart, it's the fact that my heart shows you what your heart should never be. It shows you the mistakes, so that you can avoid them. It shows you the fears, so you can be prepared for them.
    My heart is a place where you can come, learn, maybe love a little bit, get broken too, build yourself up. My heart is a place where you can come and take a look. But it can never be a place where you would stay. I wouldn't advise it.
    But I behold the kind of aura which makes you want to stay for more. Because my heart will keep you and your heart safe, I can assure that. However, un/intentionally if you break it and shatter it down, I'll build it up on the crumbled pieces of the remains that lay there.
    And that is what I'm scared of. So you can never stay. You mustn't. You shouldn't.

    If my heart was a place
    You'd find yourself stuck in a maze
    But I'll help you get out of it
    Because believe me love,
    I've been trying to do the same.
    ©_aradhya

  • _aradhya 26w

    "You promised the world and I fell for it
    I put you first and you adored it
    Set fires to my forest
    And you let it burn
    Sang off-key in my chorus
    'Cause it wasn't yours
    I saw the signs and I ignored it
    Rose-colored glasses all distorted
    Set fire to my purpose
    And I let it burn
    You got off on the hurtin'
    When it wasn't yours, yeah
    We'd always go into it blindly
    I needed to lose you to find me
    This dancing was killing me softly
    I needed to hate you to love me, yeah."
    - Lose You To Love Me, Selena Gomez

    @samarlexis Because you once told me, "You know when I was stuck in a bad phase, i used to read people who used to pen down what I felt and it really helped me. So I started writing about myself and parts of my life because who knows, it may help someone like me.stuck in a worse situation." And thus, I wrote :") take care.

    @dusky_dawn take all my care and love for you. Just take it!

    @morsel @jerry_21 hey��❤️

    @writersnetwork

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    Toxic (Part-2)

    To save someone, you need to be alive first. I was existing and trying to live but I always felt as if I was hanging from a very loose string. I locked up my insecurities in a box and opened them up only at night when the moon would peep in through the balcony door. It was the only thing that felt right.

    I felt distorted. I felt this guilt inside my heart, I felt as if I'm the one who's hurting and keeps hurting you but it can never be me who can get hurt. However, looking back, I realized I, too, was hurt for most of the times and it was because of you. Most of the times because I can't remember the rest of the hurt.

    You were the reason for my panic. You were the reason for my heart beating fast. You were the panic.

    You started to consume me with each and every bit of you and it became hard for me to think straight. The kind of person you made me forget how happiness and carefree felt like. Life suddenly became fucked up. My heart felt filled up all the time, my thoughts occupied by your thoughts.

    I felt detached from everyone, I hid from everyone behind fake smiles and laughs. I hid from everyone my catastrophe and it seemed like a good idea but it wasn't. I wanted to be strong, bold and confident but I guess the journey gives you more reasons to become that person.
    I forgot to love myself. There was this constant alarm inside my head which reminded me of you. Yes, you had consumed me completely.

    And for the first time, I wanted the string between us to be loose. Not broken, loose. I know your heart's been shattered by people, and I couldn't bear the fact that it should be shattered again. It felt as if I always standing at crossroads of your mind and your thoughts.

    The woman who gave me birth noticed my behaviour, the abruptness in the way I used to leave the room, the abruptness in the way I used to beg her to wait for two minutes before I can listen to her (because I was too absorbed by you, my words with you, my mind with you, my heart, if one existed, with you.)
    She asked me, "Is everything okay?" in a funny tone, because she likes to ease up the tension. Ain't she amazing? But I hid from her too. I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to break the prison. I felt trapped.

    I wanted to tell her, "No ma! Nothing feels okay. Everything feels like it's meant to remind me of how unworthy and useless I am. Everything feels like it's my doom. Ma, it feels like there's no way out and it feels like I'm the one trying to fix things but as I'm fixing it keeps breaking more and if I leave things, they are already broken and my heart can't fathom either. Nothing is okay, ma."

    I "wanted" to say this, but it had been a while since I did what I wanted. So I did what I learned from you, I "shielded" myself, laughed and said to her, "Yeah everything's okay! Why would you feel like that?"
    The casualness in my voice hurt me so bad that I couldn't sleep that night. Well, I couldn't sleep most of the nights but anyway. I tossed and turned and hugged Ma from the back late at night as dawn was nearing. I cried beside her, she was asleep. I cried silently but her hand rested on mine and mine on her stomach. I hugged her harder, she turned to my side (still asleep) and hugged me.

    I smiled and I slept in her arms. For the first time in a long time, I slept peacefully. The alarm stopped ringing for a while, the chaos slowed, the world paused for a while. Everything calmed down for a while.

    Then I woke up and it was all back. Those few minutes vanished. But you see, the worst part, when I look back, is how I felt after it vanished. I felt like I didn't deserve any of that. But I guess this was a sign from the universe that I still have strength in me.

    I fought hard. I kept fighting hard. Tried to fix you, broke myself, swallowed my feelings, took your feelings and tried to apply antiseptic and bandages at them while my helpless heart lay there calling out for help.

    Even while writing this, I'm scared that you will read between the spaces of my words and know I'm talking about you. A few imprints of the person you had made me are still there.

    However, one day when things got worse, way worse and it was impossible for me to fathom this, I put in blurry words everything I could in front of my Ma. My mistakes, my abruptness, my reasons, my hurt. She hugged me and gave me the advices. She gave me my crutches back, the ones you broke. It was easier to let go of your hand now. I cried and I cried and I cried till my heart felt light. And I felt light.

    I finally felt light.

    And here I am. I love myself. I love stuff. I'm bold, confident. And I've met amazing people.

    Also, I've started talking more about what I feel and I've started helping others a bit more. Why am I writing this? Just in case somebody like me needs to know that she or he ain't the only one, I hope that person comes across this and reads this.

    - Aradhya

  • _aradhya 26w

    "Did you let me live enough to save you from dying?"
    This line doesn't belong to me, it belongs to @my_cup_of_poetry

    @samarlexis @morsel @jerry_21

    @writersnetwork

    This will be coming in two parts, for the piece was too long. The second part will be a bit hopeful. A piece of non-fiction.

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    Toxic. (Part-1)

    I seem to find difficulty in writing the beginnings of things that could have defined my ending.

    Oh well, I just wrote the beginning. It's funny how my start indirectly begins with my ending. I guess it all actually began when I opened my heart to you. You touched my wounds (not scars, wounds) and stopped the bleeding (though you gave me the worst wounds I still caress when I think about you, but I don't think about you anymore). You had scars, and I looked for them more than any treasure I wanted to find. I wanted you to break your walls and let me in. The gates opened, you let me in slowly and steadily. I tried to heal your scars, and I guess I did, with the only thing that I consider to be my topmost possession, my words. I guess they were just these deep wounds which were not bleeding anymore.

    You were like that addictive drug, poisonous but always making me come back for more. My poor soul always crippled back to you, my crutches broke (you broke my crutches), so you lend me your hand to stand up and I lend you all of me to hold yourself. As I gave you every inch of me, you took and took and kept taking it in. I guess you were my Dementor but with a passive aggressive attitude unlike the ones in the series.

    My heart was shattered.

    But I never cared about the pieces of my heart, all I ever cared about was yours to be safe and complete. I kept building you by breaking me. You gave me so many reasons to be thankful for my existence. Little did I know, this gratefulness came with a price my naive soul would be too weak to pay.

    Every single second started to feel like a burden. My achievements, the laughter surrounding my house, the late night movies, the sweet words that surrounded me because of the people in my house, were the reasons I kept going and waking up every day. But all of this could never outweigh the constant load I felt.

    A heaviness always hovering over me like a grey cloud lingering around a sunflower which wants to bloom but couldn't find her sunshine. The sunlight hardly showed any notice.

    I felt the break and the crack in us. I felt things which I could not explain. I guess, as you took each inch of myself, you took my words with you too. The only thing which made me feel complete. When I read you, I saw me. You wrote about the storm I was weathering inside and I saw my words inside them. You used them.

    Were you weathering the same storm I was weathering? If that was the case, why did it feel like I was the only one trying to grasp your hand and holding on to it?

    You wanted me to save you from dying. You wanted me to build you up. You wanted to break the aura you had accepted. You wanted you to be back.

    But.

    Did you let me live enough to save you from dying?

    - Aradhya

  • _aradhya 26w

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

    @morsel because you've been reading����

    @_guts_

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    My crown bears a weight
    Which your feeble shoulders can't carry.
    I've seen things
    From which you would shield your eyes.
    I've heard things
    Which, if you were me, would make your ears bleed.
    Believe me, if I let you take a look inside my mind,
    You would never be able to fathom even the tiniest of thing you'll see.
    Because all your life, you've seen gardens filled with daisies and roses
    While I have seen barren grounds and felt the thorns under the roses.
    You smiled because of roses.
    I bled because of the thorns.
    Oh yes, I've seen bloodshed.
    I've seen laughter trying to suppress the crying
    I've seen people die inside slowly and steadily.
    I've seen changes, bad ones.
    I've seen poets forgetting to write and forgetting their words.
    And holding this, is the crown I wear.
    So tell me? Will you be able to fathom all of this?
    These are only words but when you actually feel this,
    Will you be able to accept the sadness of the world
    While all the time you've been shielded from melancholy and gloom?
    More than that, will you be able to absorb the fact that even after knowing all of this, I don't feel any grief?
    Can you believe this?
    I would suggest you go live in that dream world of yours
    And not to grow up too early.
    The real world sucks and you're not ready to be welcomed in it.
    So it's okay love
    You don't have to understand everything.

    _aradhya

  • _aradhya 28w

    "How can you miss someone you've never met?
    'Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet
    But can you find me soon because I'm in my head?
    Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet
    'Cause lately it's been hard
    They're sellin' me for parts
    And I don't wanna be modern art
    But I only got half a heart to give to you."
    - IDK You Yet by Alexander 23

    @_guts_
    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

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    IDK You Yet

    I'm looking for you
    In the spaces of my words
    In the pages of these books
    In the dust particles, as light reflects them.
    The Tyndall effect, making me reminisce about someone I haven't met yet.
    I'm going hollow inside.
    I can feel my soul become tasteless,
    My memories become faceless,
    My heart going emotionless.
    I don't see the colours anymore clearly
    I don't see blue as sadness anymore
    I don't see blue anymore.
    Neither do I see joy nor happiness.
    I'm starting to see this world through a colourless lense.
    See why I need you?
    I need to feel those things again
    The ones you call emotions.

    I touch death every day
    And come back on my mattress
    To see my pale face
    My swollen eyes.
    I sleep then, wake up
    And get through the day getting closer to death every second.
    I walk.

    So I'm looking for you
    Because it's getting hard to walk this earth.
    With this weight on my shoulder
    And these untamed demons that walk with each step of mine,
    It's getting harder and harder to maintain my calm and not collapse.
    I'm becoming dizzy,
    I'll sit down near the wishing lake.
    Oh, there goes my dime again
    And a wish escapes my heart.
    I wish to meet someone
    Who would make me feel happy.
    I wish to meet someone
    Who would make me feel again.
    I hope when you arrive
    You come and look straight into my eyes
    And see that I behold some sort of truth inside me
    And try to uncover it.
    Mend my heart with your touch
    Weave a poetry about me using my words
    Shower me in metaphors
    Show me life can be beautiful.
    And take me back to the time when all I wished was for each day to be like the present day back then.

    I miss you,
    Even though I haven't met you.
    I need you,
    Even thought I don't know you.

    ©_aradhya

  • _aradhya 28w

    "You got the lights on in the afternoon
    And the nights are drawn out long
    And you're kissin' to cut through the gloom
    With a cough drop coloured tongue."
    - Knee Socks, The Arctic Monkeys

    @illicit_skunk because you told me that you could imagine Young Billy singing Arctic Monkey's song.

    @_guts_

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

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    Young Billy

    Young Billy clentched his fist
    He stared into the abyss
    He wanted someone to come and save him
    He wanted someone to stop the punches for him
    His stomach churned with pain
    But more than that his soul forgot warmth.

    Young Billy was told by his mother
    That he was the most precious jewel on earth who would shine the brightest
    He wasn't, however, told by his mother
    That some jewels are made to put in the most darkest of corners
    They are made to sleep with these demons
    The ones which start breathing inside you.

    Young Billy was 10 when he came back to his home
    Pained, hurt, sad, his mother applied antiseptic to the cut and blood near his eye
    The antiseptic healed the cuts and stopped the bleeding.
    But the antiseptic could not heal the wound inside his heart.
    "The beginnings are always hard, you'll fit in honey," Young Billy's mum said.
    "I'm always there, honey." She repeated over and over again.
    Young Billy cried, let out a sigh of relief. At least someone was there.

    Young Billy's mum died the next day.
    Young Billy sat broken.
    Young Billy was just ten.
    Young Billy's mum was gone, and so was everything she said to him the day before.
    Maybe that day
    A part of young Billy died too.

    Young Billy got used to punches
    He got used to bloodstained uniform
    The teachers tried to help him
    But he ran away from them
    For he didn't know anymore
    What was sweetness, what was help.
    He thought help was code word for those beatings
    After all that's what the boys in the locker room said.

    Yesterday
    Young Billy found a gun in his mother's cupboard.
    Young Billy surfed the net
    He searched how to load the gun
    He searched how to pull the trigger.

    It was 3 am that the neighbors started knocking on the door and peeking through the windows.
    It was 3 am, the neighbours heard a gun fire.
    The sound came from young Billy's house.
    The neighbours broke in, young Billy was rushed to the hospital.
    Young Billy officially died.
    The word spread through the school.
    The locker boys visited his grave today in the evening.
    The locker boys knew this wasn't a suicide.

    It was a murder. But a suicide is how it will always be.
    ©_aradhya

  • _aradhya 28w

    What do I do with an I love you?

    Do I take a rose, picking it's petal?
    "She loves me, she loves me not."
    And what if my last petal falls
    With "she loves me not"
    Do I believe it?
    Or do I let it go thinking it's a stupid game?
    And believe the I love you said to me?

    /Forgive me, I've never been in love. That's a lie I tell to everybody. I've been in love, but nobody has been in love with me. Pretentious is the kind of love I've received. So forgive me if my incompetent self devoid of love tends to disbelieve you./

    What do I do with an I love you?
    Do I become happy,
    Or shall I start searching for endings?
    Even if the beginning hasn't approached?
    Do I start scribbling those personifications and pleasant imagery right away?
    Or do I wait patiently, let the moment sink in?
    Shall I run away, and confide myself in my demons and past again?
    Shall I let myself hear all of my heartbreaks holding my vulnerable self, who have been calling out to me from a long time, again?

    /Understand me, I hold a heavy past with me. My smile bears a weight too, my heart is barely holding itself and my brain is uncertain every second. Understand me and my questions, it's not that I'm trying to avoid love. It's just that my past experiences don't hold memories of love worth reminiscing about. Understand me and my cautious self./

    What do I do with an I love you?
    Do I let the person in the deepest corners of my mind and heart?
    Maybe I'll say it back, even if I don't feel anything
    Just for the sake of feeling loved, I'll tell you I love you.
    Maybe after some time, I'll actually love you.
    And when I'll say it, you'll notice the difference and start loving me more.
    Right?
    I'll write metaphors for you,
    Paint you lilac skies full of dreams and hopes
    Even if I'm completely hopeless inside.
    Maybe after some time, I'll let you see the hopeless me.
    Maybe then
    You'll finally realize.
    You've never been in love with me.
    You've been in love with a facade I put in front of you.
    Maybe then you'll take back your I love you. And my question which I kept asking myself will go away.

    /Leave me. Because my truth is ugly, my dark is too much to fathom. The weight I carry, it's heaviness, is too much to hold. After you forgive me and understand my questions, leave me. Have mercy on your heart, give love to someone who deserves it. As for me, I'll keep receiving the I love yous, and complicate every I love you more and more by writing these poetries and endings./
    ©_aradhya