yay booklist !!

okay so after being asked umpteen times on instagram for a booklist lolol, here i am, again eeeP  (hehe hi sairah and tanvi) so the past few months have been really good for me because i ordered soooo many books and i read sooo many lovely books AAAAAAH I CANT AFGSH im so excited now to tell all you…

thirteen.5 things about a girl in my head.

zeroth. (g) the path from my jaw to my shoulder was always stained and tainted and marked with her red bites. she’d say in the end, ‘sorry’, a soft whisper, warm breath against my neck, ‘i didnt mean to hurt you.’ first. (h) she was selfish, blue and aflame. she was heartless, broken and grey. she…

a small take on love. 

tell you what, the someone you decide to fall for isn’t going to be very different from everyone else, they’ll feel familiar, similar, usual. but they wont be anything you expected. they’d be of a different size, maybe even a different color. maybe they’d be reddish yellow, full of sunsets. or maybe they’d be grey,…

unsent / / power

do not kiss my cheek if you’re drunk. do not ask about my day if you’re drunk. do not tell me about your day if you’re drunk. do not ask me if i’ve had dinner if you’re drunk. do not ask me if i’ve had breakfast if you’re drunk. do not ask me for breakfast…

7:17 pm.

the thing is that no one wants to be mainstream. no one wants to be ordinary. everyone wants to be ‘that girl’ secretly. everyone wants to be thought of as special, to be special to someone. I’m not saying it’s wrong or anything. and if you argue against this, you probably are one of them…

word(s) of the day

t. /tiː/ (n.)

– the twentieth letter of the alphabet.

– someone who writes to feel a little more.

i am i am i am enough

i am your 11pm calls when you cant sleep. i am the raindrops you play catch with on your car’s window. i am the balloon you tried to save from the scary kids. i am the autumn leaf you kept in your journal. i am the piece of cake you stopped yourself from having. i…

but, what if?

[a small portrait of innocence and development through a series of conversations between a mother and a daughter]

what inspiration feels like.

i wake up to your sunday early morning poetries, the nameless red flowers at your feet. The tapping of pencils and scribbling of erasers, devoid of cliches you try to write. a bent figure, it’s still dark outside, surrounded by sharpened remains of pencils. you seem to think of letters as lost souls, waiting to be…