how to grow flowers.

let’s make the sun a metaphor for love and you, the sunflower.

you have to fight for everything you love. you have to tell people you love them often. when they need it the most. when they’re sitting at the edge of their bed and they can’t listen to their favorite song anymore because it brings back something bad. it’s okay. tell them it’s okay. tell them that they should listen to it. tell them to keep everything they love so close, there’ll be no space for anything gray. but also tell them you love them when they don’t need it at all. because you were born to give so much love, it’s meant to shine outwards like sunbeams. you are here and you know it’s okay to love everything too much. you’re going to be there for the people you love even when the porch light is off.

you cannot give up on people. it’s like deciding to not turn on the lights in your house one day because the sun’s going to be around anyway. wait. wait for something you want so badly, you’ve bruised your knuckles hitting the wall because it’s taking too long. some things always take a little too long, don’t they?

be patient. this is very important. you cannot walk away because they’re so sad, you cannot walk away because they’re in a bad place and you’re not, you cannot walk away from their rough day when you had an almost perfect day, you cannot walk away from them if you want everything to be symmetrical to you. there’s no symmetry in love. you can’t just walk away from a mess. don’t fix their mess. they will do it. everyone sorts out their mess eventually. it’s like cleaning your room, you know? one day you just throw your old pair of jeans on the bed and then you wake up one morning and your feet are tangled in it and then you realize it was your favorite pair of jeans. you don’t want to throw it away anymore.

don’t be selfish. when they’re talking all excited and happy, their eyes are so bright you can’t stop smiling, listen to them. maybe you’re the only one who is. maybe you’re the first person they called to tell that they found twenty bucks in their pocket and they’re so excited, they’re jumping in the air. when someone tells you first that they’re happy about something, have you thought how lucky you are? that they picked up their phone to call someone, and they first thought of you?
be excited for them. be happy for them. maybe you’re the only one who can be.

you know when you can’t tell anyone that you’re crying in the bathroom with a towel inside your mouth because they just watched a movie they really loved or went to the beach watching seagulls and they just had a really good day, but you’re crying so much it feels like death, and your chest is really heavy, because you can’t be selfish, i know that. i know how it feels. and it’s terrible. but it works both ways. it’s really important to understand and accept that it’s not always the colorful part of the spectrum and happiness are just not a permanent concept in the theory of love. it’s okay to vent out to anyone you think who is there for you on any lane in your good or bad place. if you trust them enough to not walk away from you when you’re crying dark tears, you might have just found something so precious it’ll be horrible if you lose it.

and everything i’ve ever written comes down to one thing i believe in the most.

to give love, always. to believe in love. to always, always, choose to fight for something and someone you love. i don’t know if it’ll be worth it because sometimes you make mistakes loving the wrong thing or wrong person and it might bring out terrible consequences but you don’t throw out the pair of jeans because you just assume it won’t fit you, right? you keep it.

because, you can’t take a sunflower at dusk, stand on an empty lane, look up to the sky and make the flower grow when there’s no sun.

5:33 pm

i think the reason i let things affect me so much is that i let everything i feel, shine outwardly towards people. and it’s a good thing and a bad one at the same time, you know?
if you showed me some of the poetry you wrote and you asked me the next day what i thought about it, i will tell you that i read it seven times and each time, i cried.
if you shared your sandwich with me, i will tell you that I loved it another five times.
i will constantly tell you i love you.
and sometimes, people just brush away the things people care for too much or show love too much.
because i constantly tell you that you might like my favorite song and I’ll try to make you listen to it everyday, I’ll try, and you will listen to it, and I’ll keep telling you my favorite part in it, where Kurt Cobain finally finishes the verse with the word love but what if it’s just another song in your playlist but i wanted it to be
our song?

reasons i might be a bad girlfriend / reasons you might not want to date me

i’ve never written such a bad post as this but everything is very honest so meh.

disclaimer: i have super self-respect and all.

  1. i’m super super super clingy.
  2. your friends might not like me :)))))
  3. i do not like fancy restaurant dates. i HATE FANCY DATES OR RESTAURANTS OR ANYTHING WHICH INVOLVES PICKING UP MY FORK TO EAT A FRENCH FRY OR ANY RESTAURANT THAT DOES NOT SERVE FRENCH FRIES. i like them small. i’d rather sit at home on a couch or go outside and get a burger king crown with you. or two.
  4. i’m a very bad influence. and i won’t feel guilty about it.
  5. i am very very very messy and disorganized. i can’t handle anything too perfect or organized or in place.
  6. super bad mind and body coordination.
  7. i’m outrageously stubborn. i’m stuck in my own head. i hate myself for being a bad listener.
  8. i’m very loud and i talk way too much. but i’m awkward and boring on the phone.
  9. i’m boring
  10. i don’t make plans
  11. i have major anxiety and depression disorder. i have sleep paralysis episodes. i’m insomniac. breather. i’m a fucking mess. i’m literally mental.
  12. i’m irritating
  13. if you (my boyyyyyyyyfriend :))) ) want to do something which is totally not logical but if it makes you happy i’d support you because i’m totally dumb because WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I BE SO CONTROLLING I MEAN DUDES ARE FUCKING INDEPENDENT AND EVERYTHING and i don’t know man, is a girlfriend supposed to advise or like tell him the logical part of everything but i don’t know.
  14. if you’re having a bad day and want to be alone, i’d let you be, but i will bug you till i make sure you have an okay day and i will NEVER try to fix it, but i WILL do ANYTHING to just i don’t know be there?
  15. i think i don’t give people space
  16. i keep on ranting
  17. i never never try to listen to others. i’m always bragging about stuff, or complaining, or too sad and morbid, and it’s always about me.
  18. i whine
  19. i take way too many dumb decisions
  20. a good girlfriend always tries to make someone happy? i don’t, i guess
  21. i’m not uh pretty
  22. i don’t do makeup
  23. i HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE TO CARRY THOSE FANCY HANDBAGS OR PURSES AROUND LIKE WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU KEEP YOUR BOOK YOU KNOW?
  24. I DON’T PARTY
  25. I AM NOT POPULAR
  26. FUCK I’M NOT EVEN COOL
  27. FUCK WHY CAN’T FANCY GIRLS LIKE ME
  28. FUCK WHY AM I SO PATHETIC
  29. I’M DUMB
  30. I CANNOT DO GOSSIP MAN
  31. CANNOT HANDLE TOO GIRLY STUFF
  32. VERY VERY STRAIGHTFORWARD
  33. WILL TELL YOU THAT I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH ALL THE FUCKING TIME
  34. i do weird shit all the time
  35. big time nerd
  36. reason no 36
  37. reason no 37

 

 

 

changing perceptions on persons with disabilities

this is something I wrote for an internship.

 

The literal definition of the word ‘disability’ says; a physical or mental condition that limits a person’s movements, senses, or activities.

 

To any normal person, this is the only definition that stays in mind. The limit exists and is very real while considering what ‘disabled’ people can do.

 

As I was reading the very definition of disability, I look at Raju, a dancer and very proud to call him a dancer at that, pulling off the most graceful dance moves I’ve ever seen, from a wheelchair.

 

The school beside my house has a student Manisha and when everybody says that she can’t read the entire textbook of Biology like the other students do, she sings beautifully.

 

The entire concept of perspectives on Persons with Disabilities has always been kind of daft. People, with anything in this world, do not like to explore what’s beyond the literal sense of any concept or idea. Most of us, let’s be real, very rarely look at a person with a disability and not be keen on installing the idea of pity in our minds.

 

It’s as if, the words DISABILITY and PITY are so synonymous with each other but they are also extreme antonyms for very few people who like to consider the fact that every person who exists can do absolutely brilliant things out of their league of judgment by people.

 

To keep a few thoughts in the circle of changing perceptions of persons with disabilities, I like to go way beyond our regular imagination and theories and put into the theme of thought that; the first step goes in making the word DISABILITY become a strong but not a vague one for everyone around the persons fighting that and the persons themselves.

 

If not for the opinions in our mind that they can’t do things which ‘normal’ people CAN do, we could go a long way in helping these people find out what they can do with what they’ve been given.

 

In the cliché of clichés, all we can do apart from avoiding the judgment of these people is giving them a chance to prove themselves. Encouragement plays a very crucial part in bringing out the best in someone and it’s a fair statement at that.

 

Changing perceptions of persons with disabilities include so many points in this loop of perspectives that it comes back to our main concept of treating the disabilities as the strong factors and the persons with ‘disabilities’ as persons with very unusual but impactful blessings to do things in life with something that has been taken away from them.

 

11:24 am

i don’t know whom to talk about this.

i miss having a brother. i know he’s right there in the next room, but i miss him so much it hurts bad. i miss talking to him about wimpy kid. i miss being treated like family from him. he resembles my father too much and it scares me because i’m paralysed when i have to act like the elder sibling. the worst part is, however, i’m scared of him. i’m scared of my brother. sometimes i think that maybe, he just he might not understand what he’s saying or doing, but i miss just. i don’t know. i don’t know anything anymore. i’m scared of being in the same room as him because i’m scared that he might say something about the panic attack i had in the morning. when i wanted to go to his cricket tournament this morning, he said he didn’t want me there. and all these little things are killing me and i don’t want to take this anymore. i don’t think i can. sometimes, i go to his room just to look at his walls and i don’t see the posters we owned together. no one understands me in this. i can’t talk about this to anybody because he’s my brother right? i’m just so scared and i feel horribly alone in all of this. he gets away with everything, he knocked down all of my bookshelves, he burned my journals because he thought it was fun, he gave me back all i gave him, the cassettes, the video games, the books, because he doesn’t want them anymore, because he goes along with my mother, and i know he can get away because i’m the older sibling, i just thought that, i just wanted some respect. at least a little consideration that i’m his sister. i’m not even angry anymore. i just go along with it. i’m tired and i go routinely to the storage room and cry because i’m scared of him finding out i’m crying because then, i become weaker in his eyes. i don’t want to cry anymore because i hate the storage room. it’s closed tightly, i can’t breathe and i’m claustrophobic.

maybe, i’m just using the storage room as a metaphor for everything in my life.

holy shit i’m nervous.

19441660_1921648114719847_5599429770397195454_o.jpg

okay.

so.

the address is: 1st Floor, Hotel Unicontinental, Road Number 3, Khar West, Mumbai, Maharashtra 400052

i’ll be performing two pieces. my first poem which i wrote in sixth grade and the other my recent.

i’m extremely nervous and i don’t think i’m nervous for the actual performance but that this was something on my bucket list. to perform in bombay, my poetry.

and i’m also a little sad that there’s no one who’s going to be there in the audience and outside, for me, and i asked my mother if she could come, and she said no, and i just, i wish there was someone in the crowd i knew.

but anyway, i think if i could just get through without falling on my face on the stage or having a huge panic attack, i’m going to be okay.

I AM SO FKIN NERVOUS.

 

 

i’m ashamed of myself today. 

I’m ashamed of myself today. 
I couldn’t stand up to my own mother.
And I’m ashamed of myself today.

I have very narrow minded people at home, especially my mother. 
So today I was showing her some pictures and of course, she couldn’t care much because I never had that kind of relationship with my mother where I could just sit and talk with her about things I like or how I almost finished a bottle of Nutella yesterday, you know? So she brought up the topic of how I’ve been writing about things like rape,  vaginas, mental illness, etc. And I’m extremely furious thinking about it now, because she was so disgusted and disturbed by that fact. She told me that I think I’ve already grown up to talk like that.That I’m still young and shouldn’t talk about disgusting things like rape.

I know she’s wrong about all the things above. And I have no shame in talking about my own mother. But I’d like to address every person, who thinks this way. 

I know my mother was wrong and I know for once that I was doing all the right things but I DIDN’T FUCKING STAND UP FOR MYSELF. 

and I thought that I like to think I’m so strong to face any criticism when I write bold poetry like I do but I couldn’t stand up to my own mother. 

And the worst part I thought was that for the first time I didn’t put my poetry on Facebook custom hiding from my mother because I thought she’d be proud of me. When she first brought this topic out today I was elated that for once I needed my mother to praise me and be proud of me. 

It really hurt me. But more than that it made me furious.

For once, in a very long time, I like to think I’m right for once. That no, there is no age to talk about important things, and even though it’s sad that people consider rape and other things like that as disgusting, it is very important to not get influenced by their criticism. There is no learning from narrow minded people. You can’t change them, or their thinking, but you have to keep doing whatever the fuck you want.

And I think the age factor to staying bold and beautiful talking important things in the world is completely ridiculous. Like for example when my mom told me I’m JUST 19 to talk about rape and other things. I was thinking ‘HOW MUCH OLDER SHOULD I BE MOM, TO COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND THAT TALKING ABOUT ‘SEX WITHOUT CONSENT IS A WRONG THING’ HOW MUCH OLDER SHOULD I BE TO KNOW THAT EVEN IF YOU ARE SIX YEARS OLD, YOU CAN BE RAPED. HOW OLDER SHOULD I BE MOM, TO TRY TO MAKE A LITTLE CHANGE?’ 

I’d definitely like to say that once you’re in an age where you understand what’s right and what’s wrong it should be completely upon you to stand up for what you believe in even if it’s something where your beliefs defy your parents. 

And I by no means am speaking against parents or anything of that sort and I know people must be thinking when they read this that they’re uncomfortable because I’m speaking for myself against my mother, but to be honest, it’s really important you know?

I’m really furious right now at how everything works. But doesn’t mean personally, that I’m going to stop believing in writing or talking about things I consider extremely important because I know they are. What’s very important is you realize that you have your own identity and you are YOUR OWN PERSON.

And its okay to be out of place in what you believe in your family. 

I mean let’s be real, if everybody went with what their parents thought they were doing wrong, they’d always fail in what THEY believe in because of their fear that they’re not going to make their mother/father proud. 

It’s okay.
And next time you go through a situation like I went through, no matter WHO IT IS, stand up for yourself. Or at least try to. 

If not anyone, you’ll make yourself proud i promise. 

joel+clementine // 24.06.2017

a gentle excerpt with lots of grammatical mistake from a book i’ll never write.

illustration from weheartit.

the poem is not mine. it is of pablo neruda. it’s one of my favorite poems.  it’s called if you forget me.

the song they sing is also one of my favorites. it’s called endless love by lionel riche and diana ross.

large (2).jpg

 

11 pm

“hey.”
“hey yourself.”

his eyebrows furrowed.

“what?” she jumped.
“nothing. you look like shit. IS THAT VANILLA PERFUME? why do you want to smell like dessert?”
“huh.”
“huh what?”
“ask me if i care?” she smiled.
“you’re awfully rude. should i be concerned or are you a rude person in general or-”
“can i?” she pointed to the warm blankets he was drowning in.
you could just see joel’s auburn hair and his pointed nose.
“can you what?” he looked confused.
“god jo, it’s freezing. move so that i can sit beside you.”
“why would i do that?”
“because it’s freezing, that’s why. now take your legs off of the book you idiot.”
“you idiot.”

//

12 am

“ow, jo. put it off.”
he moved the flashlight from the page of the book they were reading towards her eyes.
“put that off, joel.”
“DID YOU KNOW THAT HE TURNS OUT GAY AT THE END?”
“why are you screaming?” she screamed back.
he decided to whisper. “because it’s awfully quiet here, Clem. also, please stop giggling on every page. it’s sad.”
“what, being gay?”
“yeah.”
she rolled her eyes. “really, jo?”
“what, i’m just saying. he’s the one running around with pom poms and tears streaming down his face.”
“weird.”
“weird.”

//

1 am

“MY LOVE”
“THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE”
“THE EVERY STEP I MAKE-”
“god clem. i hate you.”
“why?”
“that’s my favorite song. and you sang the wrong words.”
“but we can always make up our own words right?”
“but not this one. because this is the epitome of a song that’s very beautiful.”
“okay. let’s go again.”
“okay. MY LOVEEE”, joel dragged the word. “THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE.”
she waited for a moment, looked up at him and screamed.

“THE EVERY STEPPPPPPPPP I MAKEEEEEEEE.”

“GOD CLEMENTINE.”

and i swear you could hear them laughing softly if you tiptoed from the next room.

//

2 am

“hey.”
“hey.”
“hey hey.”
“hey hey.”
“hey hey hey”
“talk to me, clem.”
“what do you mean talk? i’m right here.”
“but you’re not. you want to tell me what’s going on?”
she stopped for a moment and looked at her wrists.
he waited.
“do you- do you think you’d ever love me- i, uh, mean- this way?”
“what do you mean this way?”
“this. all of this. i’m sorry, i should really not-”
“hey.”
“hey.”
he smiled.
“Clementine, i love you. i’m here to tell you that.”
“you don’t sound convincing.”
“what am i supposed to do, get down on one knee?”
“hmm.”
he rolled his eyes.
“seriously, clem. hey, how about i punch you in the face now for thinking you’re not good enough for me? how about that?”
she closed her eyes and pretended to cover her face.
“idiot.”
“idiot.”

//

3 am

“are you snoring?”
“i’m wide awake, Clem.”
“okay.”
“okay.”
“i thought you were.”
“what?”
“snoring.”
“i was not.”
“are you asleep?”
“clementine, here, hit me.”
she raised her eyebrows and punched him in the stomach.
“ow!”
“okay. you’re awake. so i was thinking we could stay up the whole night and then wait for sunrise, yeah?” she grinned
“there are two hours to go for it. let’s wait until we die or something.”
“okay.”
“okay.”

“you know i love you, right? i mean you know that right?” joel looked up from their book.
“you do?”
“nah. i changed my mind.”
“okay.”
“hey, i’m just kidding.”
“okay.”
“are you mad?” he nudged her elbow.
“no.”
“okay.”
“ask me again if i’m mad.”
“are you mad?”
“i am. now apologize.”
“i’m sorry clem. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i really didn’t mean any of that, i-”
clementine rolled her eyes.
“okay stop. god, such a pain.”
he grinned.
“hey jo, read to me.”
“this one?”
“yeah.”
“okay. close your eyes.”
“but why?”
“i don’t know.”
“okay.”
“okay.”

joel cleared his throat and whispered.

“i want you to know one thing.
you know how this is:
if i look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window-”

he stopped abruptly and whispered.

“clem.”
“clem?”
“hey clem?”

“ARE YOU ACTUALLY ASLEEP?” he hissed.

“shut up, Jo.”

he grinned.

“are you snoring, clem?”

“get away from me, Jo.”