In every growing mind there's always an unusual eagerness to talk, converse or to know new people. Seems common in every child and teen minds but in this obscure mature world there's a rare disorder is found where an teenager is overly eager to converse with new people, often strangers and adult ones; sounds insecure but this is reality. Disinhibited social engagement behaviour (DSEB) also defined DSM-5. Albeit, teen minds are naive and new to the beginnings of world of these changes but according to varied researchers, a happy and safe family background, an understanding relationship between parents and child is always appropriate for a good behavioral and expected raising because most of the cases of DSM-5 is found in an incomplete family, neglected by parent and other societal phases.
Well, the following image, expressed the whole thing at once. Seems a bit scary and deep but when we take a look and understand the concept it's a true theme itself and artist expressed his best. Society is really an obscure and mature place; where many real and masked faces are waiting. Our children, teens are unsafe and the thing some of them are naive and trust blindly to everyone but this trust only leads to the unexpected and frustrating circumstances ahead. Rapes, Child-pornography, varied bogus rackets and many other things are resulting day-to-day. Thenever, our mind is clear and the "trust" is the common key we share but irrational peoples are always there.
The teenage phase is really hard, we're new to everything, pressure is ahead, anxieties, fancies and many other things and everything kept fooling each other. And then, every child and teen seeks someone to share his feelings. Some supports them, listen them up and some of them use there innocence for improper use and to satisfy themselves. This is the darker side of our society and the bitter reality.
So, all my teen friends, share your feels through writing it's soothing and also a good medium and as Anne Frank quoted, that's indeed, "paper has more patience than people" and to my senior adult mates, if some child or teenager comes to you for sharing and trust you, do listen and respect their emotions.
// Children learn not to hug, Instead they wave their small hands as we sidestep each other on pavements- like dodging mines, tiny, human bombs. The devil makes work for idle thumbs, so we find try to solace in small pleasures; rainbows, the postal service the weekly saucepan lids And as the new normal carves it's routine. and the nightly news delivers it's lies, Ever so gently, we riot. // - From THE NEW NORMAL By Kelly Hunter.
I've never had this pleasure to write you, but I'm really eager to write you, ma'am. I am attempting my best to pen this epistle to express my best. As you may have received a many letters in your youth, from various young folks thanking you for your works. I've reading you from last 2 years, your poems, journals and the only novel "The Bell Jar" and I'm yet to read your short stories, hope I'll find it soon and complete. When I've started reading you, ma'am your works ( poems ) seems very relatable, your language is complex yet real expressions and phrases puts everyone in easy efforts to find your motive to pen something. Your poem, "Daddy" is the first poem I've read and when I read it, I'm really in an hangover like thing to say the truth; and then I searched some information regarding you, and that really shocked me, but that's the reality you quit the world long ago. Your appearance and your loyal confessions are always there to witness your depression and your suicide and your suicide attempts. To confess the truth, I always find you realist and my inspiration. As you, too started penning as depressed child; me too, Started penning as depressed child to heal myself. I always find your opinions similar to mine, and it's really helps me to see the things as the way they are, no matter if I'm suffering from depression. There are darker realities always and own feelings and the things that we're just used to pen. Well, you're true realist, I've never thought myself as a realist as I always try to be optimist but I'm not an optimist, too. I do not acknowledge positive things, and when it comes to traits my journals are always filled as yours. There's always different perspectives to see the world but we always try to be with similar thoughts that we do carry, your poems always gives me strength to live but due to darker realities I always failed, and back to where I always used be and read you. When I've completed your novel, "The Bell Jar" I was highly impressed by your writing and the beauty of the magnificent proses. The fig metaphor is wisely used by you to picturised situations that today in this contemporary world, matters a lot. When it comes to feminism, you've wisely used the words and put them in thought, the wise use of paradox to satire or to express the manly thing you've done very well, ma'am; for instance, this quote "Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you". Evenly, world has always praised your words and you're always credited to your witty true confessional poems; you attempted suicide twice in your teenage years, but you succeed in your early thirties to wave eternal good bye, this seems painful but I do fancy what's your mentality on that time, when you chosen to die, and also as you penned somewhere you're really did so, "Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call". This is strange but appealing. So, ma'am I'm very grateful to you for your earnest works filled with only truth and I'm always gonna to see your spirit in your works. You're the brilliant feme, who led the world by her poetries and journals . Your appealing writings everytime deserves a long ovation. You're the best Western prime artist to pen your expressions, ma'am.
Writing to you or for you is something that I'm eager to write about; So, I'm writing now. I'm seeing you since I was an infant, your delicate tunes still made our home to have her own melodies. You're here over two decades, as I know. The thing I like you about is your positivity. Well, everyone ties wind chimes to bring positivity and Goodluck in abodes as it is mentioned old Asian and Japenese cultures. You've been mostly my companion, when there's no one with me, though my favorite spot in home is balcony only, you were always there tinkling, spreading your vibes. I feel very 'safe' around you; yes you've read right 'safe'. As I have unforgettable memories with you. Your tinkling serene sounds are enough to heal me when I was depressed. There are many nights, when I only use to stare you for hours and enjoying your soft, subtle tunes they're just sweet. No matter what kind of mood our hommies have but whenever, you start tinkling everyone used to get refreshed. Your presence is very subtle and kind. You're there over decades but still you bring harmony in our home. Your presence have an unusual warmth I think, I do not know there's something special in you. Your appearance makes you more perfect. I wish you'll be with us all the time. Thank you for bringing delicacies in our home and thanks for being my companion.
We were strangers once It all changed with a hi The more we shared , More we get close And it became more hard to separate
We promise to stay together No one was thinking about our last day We share every small thing Chocolate,lunch,and our little secrets Like and dislike Try to adjust with other But none was thinking that it will become a memory
It was a boring class Until the final day of togetherness Suddenly memories hit really hard Eyes filled with bitter tears None of us want to separate But a distance goal still remains...
We don't know what future holds But it's completely gonna change us We left our heaven With a heavy heart
Time pass by .... Bitterness of separation strat to fade Replaced with new None of us look back at those days
Some lost track Some are moving forward
Some hides and some shine well
Some fade away and some pushed us away Without a goodbye
I wrote a fairytale by crushing some chalks in kundi danda with snippets of phantasm it first was a spiel narrated by a colporteur as it was one of those pieces of art which were hard to sell but holds a profound meaning, That day I understood what a penurious art in queer street means when its author is indebted of his audience
When the leaves turned brown an array of hope coloured the horizon after a break of dawn it once cowped on dimples of words then a blush captured a poem dancing in the ballroom of buttercups it morphed phases like Moon sometimes a haiku shattered into a monostitch of love, as love is simple to be expressed in just few words than to gurk out seventeen syllables of angst , beauty and affection
When the music died that day her (poem's) ship sank betwixt the pages of that greyed journal which sighed out leftovers of paradiddle basking a beige ribbon of metaphors which criss-crossed till a magnum opus crocheted by strings of guitar each note developed a song but when the musical instruments fragmented into silvery dust a poem took birth from that dead melody of chords. ______________________________________