The fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves.

21/07/2014

Name

In Sanskrit, my name means love. But in Nepali, my name means rain. Rain. It means sadness, end of summer, destruction.
It was my great-great grandmother's name and now its mine. She was, they said, the only strong woman in our family. She was wild and free. She took care of the horses in our village in Nepal. The only woman in our family who died an unnatural death.
I would've liked to have known her, my great-great grandmother. A wild woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until my great-great grandfather chose her to spend his entire life with. As if she was a thing, not a human being. She said no, but our family doesn't like their women strong, hence she was forced to marry him. The story goes she never forgave him; she looked out, sitting by the balcony all day. My great-great grand mother and my great-great grandfather made five kids. I wonder if she made best out of what she had or she felt sorry about all the things she couldn't be.
Not very long after the fifth kid, she jumped off the balcony that she used to sit by. No one in our family talks about her because they thought of her as a bad luck.
The only woman in our family who was free and wild, but couldn't be.
The only woman in our family who didn't want to marry, but had to.
Neha, her name was.
The only woman in our family who died an unnatural death.
I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place on the balcony.

04/07/2014

A Confession

Tears burst out of my eyes. My body went cold. My heart started beating in my chest like crazy. All the memories were gone. Of us, of the last year I had spent and all the bad things started coming back to my mind to haunt me.
That's the thing about having a history with depression. You never know if it's just one of those days or it's all coming back. I couldn't think of anything. My brain stopped working. My hands shivered, I felt weak on my knees. Everything stopped. I stopped living.
The first time I went in public after that I felt naked. Exposed. Like everyone has seen my scars. My flaws. Every look felt judgmental. I wish I believed in God so I could ask him to punish you for doing this.
People keep telling me it's all right and it'll go away. I just don't think it will. I have lost all my hope in life, in living; I don't want to live.
I read my previous suicide letter today and I don't know, It's fucked. I'm fucked. I can't live like this. I can't disappoint so many people.
It's like I'm playing an annoying video game and I keep dying but they keep giving me another life. And there's no exit button; I'm forced to play that game. It's like.. I don't want to play anymore. I don't more lives. Just let me go. Let me die.

02/07/2014

24/05/2014

Simple is nice.

You worry you're too plain for me. Too simple. But, I love your simple. I could be happy just watching you do daily tasks, yawning, trying to search something in the house, drying off yourself from the shower, watch you cook, how much care you put into what goes into the pot. Simple is what I need.

Please. Simple is happy. Simple is satisfied. Simple is content. Simple is this just feels right. This is the one for me. Simple means that it's natural, requires no effort.

I do not need to try to love you, I just do.

23/05/2014

Letters to God-2

Dear God,

Make me feel special. I don't feel like I matter. Make me feel special. I want to know how it feels to be special. It's been years. Do something.

Letters to God-1

Dear God,

I don't know if you exist, but I was in a need of someone and I thought you could help. I'm losing my mind again and I don't want this to end like it did earlier. I want something to believe in, something that won't let me go bad again, something to make me better again. I don't remember the last time I felt immensely happy.

Give me something to believe in, God.

I don't know if you exist. But if you do, please make this go away.

With love,

Me.

24/04/2014

Things I know and things I hope you know

I know I shake when two hours go by and you don't message me and I feel like I can't breathe when you forget to tell me that you love me. I know that sometimes things I say when I get bad make me sound crazy and hurt you.

I know that I love you a little too much.
I know that you make me the happiest person on earth.

I hope you know that I will always be there to make sure you don't punch walls whenever you get mad. I hope you know that I will always be there to kiss you good night and smile even if I fall asleep crying afterwards. I hope you know that you are the only reason I'm still writing and eating and sleeping and breathing. I hope you know that you are the only thing that is keeping me from dying. I hope you know that we're fucked up.

I know that sometimes I make you feel like you're choking.
I hope you know that I'm sorry.

I hope you know that I see you in everything. I hope you know that it's okay to not know what to do with your life. I hope you know that whatever you choose to do with it, I'll be with you. I hope you know that you're all I want. I hope you know that you're wonderful. I hope you know that you're every sunset, every sunrise, every rain, everything in my world.

I hope you know that I love you a little too much.
I hope you know that you make me the happiest person on earth.

13/02/2014

Eight months ago.

A few days ago, I listened to the voice mail you left me a day after we broke up.

In it, you asked me to go fuck myself. I still remember that night. I still remember how excited I was about my new mail box service and how you managed to spoil it just like my day. I remember wondering how someone I chose to show all my scars to could be so cruel.

A month ago, I called you at 6 AM when my mom wasn't home. I expected you to ignore it, but you answered it and I felt my heart fall down to my knees. You probably thought it was because I missed you, but truthfully it was because I had prepared myself to fight back, and instead, I asked you how you were. You said you were fine, I smiled and hung up. That was the last proper conversation we had.

I made sure to let go of you.

Fast forward two months, I still wonder how you are. I still wonder if your brother recovered from that accident or if you adopted a new cat.

If you ever hear me say this, you would probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet (which I rarely did. Very very rarely)

You'd probably think I think these things because I loved you and/or I still love you, that I still want you. But that is not the case.

You see, eight months ago, I would've given anything to make sure you were happy. And now, I remember you as a person I shared myself with.

But it is not eight months ago.

It is now, and now I don't miss you.

And maybe things will be better someday. Maybe you will understand that I'm not what you think I am. And maybe, we will start being friends.

But for right now?

Go fuck yourself.

29/11/2013

Crazy babblings.

Fuck!

I am so mad.

I wish I were a good writer.

I wish I could say things about you, your nose, your smile, your skin. God your skin, your touch.

So that someone, anyone could understand how fucking crazy I am going but all I've got is sometimes I want to reach over and grab your hand, and sometimes it's at 3 A.M in the morning, and sometimes it's in the middle of calculus class.

And my heart is beating fast because I saw your face in a dream

And it's so fucking crazy.