the leftovers of last nightfill my fridge.“never to be ruined”is what i would want to believe.but i do not have the patienceto wait and see.i do not have many things in me-lacking of sorts, but not as deep in feeling.it is fine as long as it doesn’t reach me.it is fine as long as itContinue reading “"cold light"- Nayana Nair”
From the day that I resolved to create a door in my life for you to move out me, to forget you, to even hate you, if it becomes necessary. I thought resolve was all I needed to get rid of the poison that you had become, to create space for myself to grow into,Continue reading ““Smile and Call it Love” – Nayana Nair”
“Yes, I do have plans for my future my dear aunt.” I say, after I see her put her cup down and look at me with sympathy and resentment. “How can we not worry. It is your future we are talking about.” Actually, I never had these conversation, at least not with my aunt. IContinue reading ““Aunt” – Nayana Nair”
The tissues I have cried into are my excuses, to hide the clutter of calls and love I forgot to return. Sometimes it is too late to clear the mess I made. It is more difficult to retain my will to clean it all up, which sort of made me guilty of creating another sadContinue reading ““Stranded” – Nayana Nair”
One day I was watching TV or I thought I was until it seemed that the boy whose silence alone was unsettling to many, the loud girl who dreams of becoming the nightmare she suffers, even the clueless proud parent who try hard to be cool were all angry, everyone was shouting not at eachContinue reading ““Unsettling” – Nayana Nair”
There was a melancholy in looking up at the endless vacant sky and looking for the invisible presence of someone to depend on. To wear these ideas that were guaranteed to sort my life and mind. Except it felt like clothes borrowed. I had to either return them or throw them away.
You ask why I don’t stay and fight. You ask if I realise that I can win as much as others. I tell you that everyone has a dream. And what I get by staying and fighting, are not my dream. That I cannot live in this world of regulated self-expression. Always fearing when IContinue reading ““Spilling the Ink” – Nayana Nair”