I've stopped writing daily. I was habitual of it. I was in a habit of speaking to myself, of expressing, of letting my emotions rest on piece of paper. But, but I lost that habit. I lost that habit of expressing, of feeling. Since I have stopped writing, I am not actually aware of who I am, who I have become. I have stopped paying attention my emotions, my inner self. I have stopped talking to myself. I say that I have nothing to write about, I have nothing to talk about but may be people say this when they have a lot to talk about, a lot to write about, a lot to express. By the time, a lot becomes nothing. They keep so much inside themselves, they become more 'the things they keep inside' and less 'them'. May be that's why, they get confused and say that they got nothing, nothing to talk about, nothing to express, nothing to say, nothing to write. But that nothing holds a lot, that nothing is heavy, way too heavy than a lot. They hold so much that they become unaware of who they actually are.
I do not what I have become, what I want to be, what I was. I am not aware of myself, I have gone far far away from myself, do not know where, do not know why but for sure I know I have gone too far to meet myself.
But at this period of my life, I am moving, wandering aimlessly here and there, in search of a place of rest, of a destination. I am moving from places to places, I am roving in search of a place, a person, an aim. But I'm getting nowhere, I am moving, I am wandering but still I am stuck maybe, I am stuck yes, stuck in moving, wandering, roving, and walking around aimlessly, voraciously, anxiously. I am not following a path, a clear path, I am getting distracted from my goals, my motives, I am getting distracted. I wanna stay, stay at a place and move, I do not want to stay stuck and wander here and there in search of people.
Because at the end, what's mine will find me. For that I do not need to worry, I do not need to bother myself, I need not stress myself. For that I do not need to destroy my present, for that I do not need to ruin all the opportunities that I have now. Because NOW will not come again. I only have to focus on my goals, only on what I wish to achieve. Everything else will follow.
I have to go on and on, without wandering here and there. I have to move, I have to grow, I have to make my present.
The sad thing about life is not death or not living enough, it's the regrets. The regrets of not being enough, of missing those opportunities, of not defending yourself, of suffering alone, of spending that day in sadness, of not being productive enough, of not being considerate, of screaming out when you could have kept mum, of staying silent when your words were needed the most.
It is only the regrets, the regrets of not being in touch with your loved ones, of not telling them what they mean in your life, of not expressing your emotions. But you know what the biggest regret is? It is getting misunderstood, it is pretending to be fine when your soul is crashing inside, it is being taken wrongly, the biggest regret is people, most especially your close ones, taking you as someone you are not.
The regrets- of not being there for people when they are alive and regretting when they are gone. Of giving them tags of "Loser" "Show off" "Unreal" "Attention Seeker" "Toxic" "Dramatic" "Someone who exaggerates" and whatnot when they share their emotions when they talk about their problems and labeling them as " Ignorant" "Toxic" "Someone who doesn't communicate" and everything else when they begin to keep things to themselves when they find it better to keep it all inside to escape from the situation. Of not listening, not paying attention to them when they are here with you, and preaching to others to share their emotions as soon as someone takes away their life. Of not looking at the one who's sitting next to you and then consoling the one who's miles away from you.
It's only the regrets- the regrets of sending bouquets to a dead person and not giving even a single petal when that person is alive, of writing thousands of words for them when they find their solace and not giving them a simple title when they breathe just fine, of living them after they bid adieu and not even seeing then when they are sitting next to you. It is only the regrets, of not being kind to them, of not lending your ears to them, of not understanding them, of not getting into their shoe when they are struggling, when they are alive, when they are counting on their breaths and crying oceans of tears when they finally fail at living.
It's only the regrets- of promising yourself to be kind to everyone, to understand that everyone's got their share share of the struggle, to keep everyone at peace, to listen to them, to see things from their point of view as soon as someone makes their way to heaven/staying like that for some time, following all the good deeds and again failing at being kind to the ones who are finding it hard to survive with a smile on their face, who are trying each and every day to pass that day. We are failing, failing at being kind and passing, we are passing at being ignorant, at regretting. We are running in circles, of regrets and good deeds. ~sakshi
If I could say the one thing that I regret the most, it is that I gave up and I stopped writing, I stopped writing because of what people will think of me because they will think of me as a sadist who keeps on exaggerating the same old scenarios, they will think of me as a fake person who keeps displaying all her emotions on social media to gain sympathy by writing poems, they will think of me as a loser who has nothing else to do, who is lost!
I stopped writing because I am a grown-up and grown-ups are not supposed to showcase their emotions, right? Grownups are supposed to understand everything, they are supposed to keep it all inside and let it decay, they are supposed to keep moving with their life carrying all the baggage. I stopped writing because writing makes a person look weak, it makes them believe that feelings emotions are still dear to me, it makes me an emotional fool, emotional wreck, I stopped writing because writing means letting it out but giving it another life.
I stopped writing and now I feel like there's a lot inside, it's decaying! Buried, dead, rotten, and whatnot, it's all inside, still, living, loving, breaking, running, hoping, wishing.. learning. My head and heart and soul, they all are covered with the decays, I can't seem to make a way to them, I can't seem to remove the rotten layer to see what actually my heart looks like. It used to be naive once but now it's tough, rigid and I don't like that, hearts are supposed to be soft, that's how they don't break. So, I keep trying to remove the dead, decayed, and rotten things, all the words, all the emotions, all the feelings, all the worries but looks like they are glued very well. I forgot how to communicate my heart out, I forgot how to express things, I forgot how to tell them that my heart holds so much grief inside, it needs peace, it needs something to hold on to.
I regret 'not writing' each day, not just writing but I regret all the words and love and care that I didn't express, and all the poems I didn't write. I forgot how to put it all in words, so this is an effort to pour it down, to remove those layers, to express..this is an effort to declutter myself!
If I could let my vulnerabilities touch the paper, then they will touch it with sorrow, like every inch of them is craving for warmth and love, they will look pathetic and hopeless, romanticizing about the things that are not going to happen ever, they will smell of pain, darkness, and lots of unfulfilled desires and wishes and what not, they will feel so strong from the outside but shattered and desperate from the inside.
If I could let my vulnerabilities make a way through words, they will sound so cliched and poetic, like I am gloomy and my days are dark, I wish to do things but my head doesn't cooperate, I still think, dream, fantasize, and romanticize about the ones who are not here in a way they were at some point of time, I think of all the opportunities I've missed and all the moments I've lost, I end up thinking about that one person and all the ways I can still shower love and all the moments I have lost, I think of being loved in a way I should be loved.
If my vulnerabilities could be vulnerable, they would say how insecure, how pathetic, how sad, how bad I feel at a minor inconvenience, they would say how much I think of something when anything goes wrong, they would say how I start seeing issues in myself when things go wrong, they would say how insecure I feel when I see something that I didn't get when I needed it the most, how I have been keeping things inside without me knowing that there is some issue.
If my vulnerabilities could talk, they would say let it all out, my love!
They say- "With time, grief goes away, it shrinks and eventually it leaves your body" but is that true, I do not think so! And then yesterday, I saw an illustration that said " Grief doesn't shrink with time, we grow with our grief".That means, grief becomes smaller and smaller as we begin to grow. It is just like the clothes of our childhood. They are always there in the corner of our cupboard or somewhere in the mess, but they are there because they carry a lot of emotions and memories.
And so is the grief, it stays within us, us all. Some of us grow too fast that the grief starts too fade, whereas some of us are still in the influence of grief. But ultimately, we do not stop growing, we keep growing, we keep putting our clothes in our cupboard because they begin to look shorter each day, we keep growing and in the process our grief begin to look smaller and tinier to us.
But, remember, grief is a part of everyone of us, it's within us, it lives in us. Some of us had mastered it and kept it aside, some of us are still struggling to keep it aside, and some of us are still under the influence of grief. But still, everyone of us has their portion of grief in themselves, some have grown out of it and some are still thinking that grief is not their enemy. They are still comfortable with it.
Grief keeps on injecting more grief into us, and when we become too comfortable with grief, we feel good, we feel that grief is our friend but it's not. The sooner we understand that we need to keep it in the size it is, the better we would be able to deal with it. No, Grief doesn't shrink, we just grow. The point is to be a little kind because our souls are full of grief. ~sakshi
वो कहते हैं कि वक़्त दो, वक़्त के साथ सब ठीक हो जाएगा, जख़्म भर जाएंगे, लोग भुला दिए जाएंगे, जो जहाँ का है वहीं छूट जाएगा और तुम, तुम आगे बढ़ते जाओगे, सब कुछ पुराना पीछे छोड़ते हुए.. वक़्त के साथ तुम भुला दोगे सब कुछ जो याद रखने का कोई खास मतलब नही है, जो तुम आगे नहीं ले जा सकते हो, जो तुम्हारा नहीं है, जिस की तुम्हें आस है, जो तुम्हारा ख़ास है.. वक़्त के साथ, तुम बढ़ जाओगे आगे और भुला दोगे सब कुछ, सबको..
सब कहते हैं वक़्त दो, वक़्त सब ठीक कर देगा, पर कोई ये क्यों नही कहता है कि वक़्त बस उन चीज़ों का प्रभाव थोड़ा कम कर देगा, कोई ये क्यों नहीं कहता कि वक़्त बस उन लोगों पर, जज़्बातों पर, दिल पर, उम्मीदों पर, आस पर धूल की एक परत जमा कर देगा, एक ऐसी परत जिसको एक हवा का झोंका ही मिटा दे, जो कुछ तूफानों के इंतेज़ार में है, जिसको हवा का बेसब्री से इंतेज़ार है.. कोई ये क्यों नही कहता है कि वक़्त तो बस एक बहाना है, दुख को कम करने का, और सभी चीजों के प्रभाव को कम करने का, बस आगे चलते जाने का.. कोई ये क्यों नहीं कहता कि वक़्त कुछ ठीक नही करता है, बस हमें कठोर, सख़्त और ढीट बना देता है, बस हमें हम से लड़ने की ताक़त देता है, हमें हमसे ही हज़ार बार लड़ाता है, कभी हराता है तो कभी जिताता है.. पर वक़्त.. वक़्त शायद कुछ ठीक नही करता है.. बस हमें वक़्त पर यकीं करना सिखा देता है..
Hey Beautiful people, Please read the first 4 chapters before reading this one. Tag everyone you know on Mirakee because not many people are reading this story. Check for any grammatical/spelling errors in this chapter. Thank you