I’m as messed up as this poem. This just might not make sense.

It’s a strange place
You never know where you’ll feel it.
Two arms and music inside a chest
Or four walls and family dinners,
spin the bottle and hopeless friends,
Or maybe just a city.
My mind is a crazy mess
My heart does not rhyme anymore
Everyone has a story
I’m living a story that
I just can’t put into words.
Nostalgia is a dirty liar.
But it’s my happy place.
You see,
When I write about love,
Words flow nonstop.
When I write about pain,
I don’t try to rhyme, it just fucking happens.

But when I write about home,
My poetry is a lost cause.
There’s a tsunami in my head.
A tsunami of words that don’t match,
And there’s no way to put them together.
I’ve been trying and trying to write
About home
About my time there
My time here
About what I’ve felt in between
But words of no purpose pop into my head
And although they can be made
Into something beautiful
Like everything can
I’m just not the one to do it.
But I so badly want to.
I want to frame sentences,
And beautiful verses,
Phrases that make sense,
But here I am,
Going on and on
Not having a clue about what I’m writing.
I’m so sorry.
I just miss home.

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An overused cliché.

“Important things are inevitably cliché but nobody wants to accept that.” – Chuck Klosterman

Be it a ring in the cake, a stereotypical place in the house or an overused phrase, clichés are inevitable. Why do we detest them as much as we do?

  • I was broke and broken. My house was as big a mess as my life, and you couldn’t walk one step into my house without stepping on a shattered and scattered piece of my heart. The morning birds sang a chirpy song of flight and life, a flutter on their faces that seemed to be a smile. I felt a pull, a small whisper in my ears asking me to walk beside the ocean and I did. The sand was wet against my feet, the sun bright against my eyes and I sat down. And it felt nice, because I heard the same voice whisper a cliché in my ears, and I believed him : You’ll be okay.
  • She was looking at the computer screen, the keyboard a little wet as her tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. Her pupils moved frantically as she replayed the incident over and over in her head. A few hours ago, her husband had asked her to stop working, leave her career and stay at home all day from now on. Women are never stay-at-home, cook and smile kind of people, no one is. We are all “I am human and I’ll do what I want”. She had asked why a thousand times and the only reply she got was a cliché : that is where women belong.
  • They were a cliché and they were fine with it. He cooked for her, she bought roses for him and he proposed in a fancy restaurant with the ring in the cake. They had two kids, grew old together and got to say when they were eighty and together that they made it. They were happy.
    They were happy being a cliché because if you miss your chance, clichés won’t be cliché anymore. Forever would become a fake promise and you would run out of time.

Make sure you don’t run out of time. Fight against the bad clichés and smile for the right ones. This might be a cliché, but be happy. Smile.

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Kafka, Chekhov and guns.

Kafka, Chekhov and guns

He kept the book on a dusty table, and looked up. The sun was on top of his head now, almost blinding his sight but he looked up anyway. He had stayed up all night to finish reading a Murakami book ‘Kafka On The Shore’.

In the book, Murakami brought up the Chekhov’s gun principle which basically meant that once a gun appears in a story, it has to be fired. Chekhov must’ve said it with the perspective of a writer, and Murakami might have brought it up to explain the importance of a certain element of his story. But he, who stayed up all night just to read the book, had not stopped thinking about this theory.

A week ago, his friend had broken up with her boyfriend and she was devastated. So, he spent a long time with her as she cried and cursed and let all of her pain out. He spent a lot of this time consoling her and telling her about how she has to stand up straight and walk again someday. “There is no use in grieving about what has been lost. Grief is important and should never be kept in, but once it has been let out, you have to let go.” He went on to explain how she had to smile and continue writing her story, her life.

She’s fine now. He, however is driving himself crazy on how the Chekhov’s gun theory and the fact that our lives are our stories become one. Everyone has a role. Nothing at all is placed without importance, and there is no bigger mistake than to think you have no place in this world.

He had run away a day ago. His father had hit him, he had seen tears in his mother’s eyes and he didn’t want to be with either of them anymore. He didn’t feel like he fit in, anywhere. So he picked up Kafka, a pair of pajamas and a chocolate bar and left. He had wandered around the block for a while, then went to the park to read the book.

You’re like a gun in Chekhov’s dramatic principle. At one point or another, you will be held, someone’s arms will wrap themselves around you as they pull the trigger. Make sure that someone is you. Everything is like a gun in Chekhov’s dramatic principle. We are all loaded guns waiting for our trigger to be pulled and we have to be very careful.

His eyes watered a bit because of looking at the sun for too long. He got up, took the book and went home.

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“And we created you in pairs.” – Qur’an 78:8

When the love of your life is on her knees, holding a promise of forever in the ring in her hand, and asks you to marry her, do you know what it means?

  • You’ll wake up every morning to find her sleeping beside you, or smiling at you with a warm coffee mug in her hand. And it will be routine to you, but you will smile anyway because you just love her so much. Every morning will be the same, but it’ll feel wonderful every single time anyway. You will be in love every morning, for the rest of your days.
  • Every lunch with her won’t give you butterflies but you will feel happy and alive every time she cracks a joke. She will repeat the joke again and again, and giggle endlessly, and you will be used to it. But you will laugh too, because she is undeniably weird and beautiful. (And well, the joke was funny.)
  • It’ll be an adventure. The two of you, hand in hand, will enter the jungle of happiness and insanity. You will love each other so much, and so often. The diamond on her finger will be the key to your happiness. It’ll mean forever. Commitment isn’t your strength but that’s what love is. Keeping the promise anyway. You will be thrilled every step of the way.

But it won’t always be butterflies and gardens.

  • You will see her cry, and you will feel devastated. You will realize that rubbing her shoulders won’t always comfort her, and that sometimes words just won’t be enough. And so, you will learn to hold her tight and close, and just stay. You will learn to just listen as she rants.
  • You will fight, and it won’t be easy. She really will be hurt, and sometimes you will shout at her anyway. She will shout back, and you will exchange mean words, but you will learn to apologize, and you will learn to forgive.
  • Someday, you will wake up and she won’t be there. And you will wait for her to come back, and call her whenever you can. You will realize that without her, your life is a mess. And you will be scared of losing her. She will come back almost every time, and make you the happiest you ever thought you could be. But when she does not, you will be the lost kid in the jungle. Breathing, but dead anyway.

So if you love her, if you can promise to stay after seeing every shade of her because you will, if you can assure her to always stay, then say yes. Because even though there are ups and downs, you will be in love and it’ll feel so damn amazing, that you will forget to breathe and start living.

And anyway, when Ross does it thrice, you know there is something addictive about it. Say yes, you fool.

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13 reasons why.

13 reasons why.

Love is an eight-year old, flying around and playing all the time. His favorite toy is a bow and arrows. I am so sorry, but his mother had failed to teach him that violence wasn’t the answer, because every time she did, he’d pout and say ‘But I make them feel happy’. He didn’t get it, and neither did she. Did we?

Here are 13 reasons why you should fall in love, even if your heart is broken.

  1. Cupid insisted that it’ll make you happy. You’ll smile like an idiot, while everyone in the room sulks like a stormy cloud about to burst.
  2. It’ll feel like a cold shower after an exhausting day in the heat of your city. Every drop that’ll touch your skin will make you arch your back and sigh in relief.
  3. Love will be the band-aid, hiding and healing your cuts while you smile and move on with your life.
  4. It will taste like coffee, waking up every emotion inside of you with whispered promises of a forever.
  5. Because if you do, you’ll have a human blanket that’ll keep the temperature just right.
  6. Your dog always needs more love.
  7. Cupid’s arrow is made of fantasies, happiness, tears and a dash of reality.
  8. Terraces, homes and hearts will be a little less empty, and the world could use the help.
  9. It’ll give you the same happiness that you feel when you touch a new paperback. He will be your paperback human and coffee-bean love.
  10. Self-love will become much more easier with her lips on your neck and her arms around your waist.
  11. Love will sound like a child-hood story that makes you calm down and fall asleep.
  12. Cupid knew that a little violence, a small heart-break can be overlooked for true love. The eight year old was right all along.
  13. The sex, duh.

Yes, this is inspired by and is kind of in honor for the season 2 of Thirteen Reasons Why.

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