Tonight.

Tonight

I'm writing letters

you'll never receive,

words you'll

never hear,

stories you'll

never be a part of,

and a distant voice that'll

fade soon,

but here, let me tell you this,

you have the most beautiful hands,

tender yet strong,

unfair yet vulnerable,

they look like they're made to

create something,

they're made to stir something

deep inside all the souls you touch.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SY1V0Y7hscw

We’re a Generation of Self-Absorbed Individuals.

We are a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

Every morning, we soak in narcissism as we soak in Vitamin D,

Standing in front of the mirror, we admire our facial features, and maybe slyly ignore the ones that aren't so good after all,

We strive, we strive really hard to live the lives we carefully paint on our social media profiles,

But it's hard and often daunting,

Because the perfection we achieve on social media isn't a cakewalk in real life.

As a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

We live on gratification and seek validation,

Even when we claim we don't, we do,

We just don't say it, because we're too vain to admit

that our egos are bigger than our hearts and souls,

Our mess isn't ours alone, our heartbreaks aren't ours to embrace,

We break and heal with others,

We love and learn with people on the internet,

Our secrets are broadcasted in the daylight and we turn our lives into a mockery overnight.

We're a generation of self-conceited individuals,

Too broken to admit we're broken,

Too full of ourselves to see beyond our flesh and bones,

We watch as our lives fade and emerge between the newsfeeds and timelines,

Unfolding gently between the pretentious mornings and melancholic nights, we build constellations of our own,

We write stories for no one to read,

We laugh, half in love and cry over lost loves,

But in the end, we survive,

We breathe,

And we just live.

You Signed Up for This.

Every time I say you signed up for this,

I wonder if you imagined our togetherness differently,

Because life is built on unfulfilled fantasies and

unchartered territories,

The idea of love as shown in movies is a fable that we are miles away from,

Even if we're grappling in the dark praying to reach the shores of the kind of love we fancied, we might not,

The standards, I guess, were always a fabrication of our silly minds to mock us at what we cannot score,

Maybe I cannot promise you the fantasy,

Maybe I should not,

Because what I can offer you is, a different kind of love,

The one, that's ours, and probably not a figment of imagination,

On days when the sun refuses to shine and you gnaw your own mind, I'll remind you of the person you are,

I won't be the one rescuing you, but I will turn every dark day into a funny poem that you can recall on a day you'll not have me around,

On nights when you find my reason beyond any measure of sanity, I will rather give you a reason, to look beyond the measures,

Because who decides what's sane and what's not?

And on afternoons when time comes to a halt as we sit facing each other at a lunch table, I will  try not to fill the silence with words,

Even when words come easily to me, I will let you be,

For I don't squander love and words,

For when they are uttered, they ruin the possibilities of fathomable probabilities making way for the ineffabilities that my heart isn't made for,

So, take my silence and inability of expressing our bond,

But don't put them in that big brown box with labels, that is due for a return,

Instead, help me in carving them for our wants and needs.