RSS Feed

Tag Archives: stories

“I am not mistaken. I know it doesn’t hurt you.” – Nayana Nair

I wish for once to be unstable enough,
to lose it for once,
to kill every part of me that wants to take your name
every minute of the day,
to throw away this shit that you have
engraved me into-
into your bigger plans, into your list of exes,
into the list of girls who would never be good enough for you,
into the the stories you would prepare in advance for you next girl,
stories with my name,
into the list of people you block and regularly check on
just to ensure they do not find happiness without you.
I want to do something other that to be bothered by your existence,
to be obsessed of my role and use in your life,
that is now separate from mine.
I want to be myself for once, than to be just another girl
whom you no longer want.

“Rainbows and Reflection” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

I always thought
that I could be happy,
really happy,
forever happy,
if only I could make myself love happiness.

Though I approached this strange kid,
though I pretended to be good
and as holy as humans can be,
I had nothing to say this ever smiling child.
All the standard stories
I had prepared for this heavy chore
of presenting myself to this world,
were not for her ears.

I could never make myself fill her head with such darkness.
Why should she know of the categories of suffering and where I fit,
about the worth that every person has to earn.
This kid looked at rainbow and reflections with marvel,
prayed before every meal, believed in every story told.
There was nothing I could say to her.
I could not make her see me, befriend me, understand me
without changing her into me.

Only my love for this happiness
stands in my way
of the heaven I have dreamt in futile.

“Aftermath” – Nayana Nair

Like me, probably many have tried their best
to set their limits,
have learned how to stop before learning how to move.
We recite story of forgiveness,
of patience, of eternal undying love
to our children at night.
and when they fall asleep
we recite these stories to ourselves,
so that we may not forget them.
I remember all the proofs, every news that told me
how wanting more, wanting somewhere’s share of happiness,
wanting too much- can result in catastrophes.
that is how I learnt that some wants can destroy lives,
can create demons out of people.
The one who wrongs and the one who is wronged
just move around this world
trying outrun the aftermath of careless actions.

“Craft” – Nayana Nair

the broken stories that you lived on
were never actually broken.
these stories are not pieces of a whole,
but a whole that is meant to look like a piece.
they are made so.
they are crafted to be faulty, to look like us,
to look like the things we want to be but aren’t.
so that it can fit into our heart,
so that we can nibble on it
with our tiny dry mouth
that has given up on food, love, and life.

“The Usual” – Nayana Nair

4f7597cbedf60754fdc27c0a9ea04638

Sure I don’t feel hollow for the every minute we don’t speak.
Sure I don’t wait for your messages when I am with friends.
And I don’t feel weak
even when your anger breaks my back
and your love breaks my heart.

You told me something was wrong with me
and this is not how people usually love.
They find ways to be with each other
and miss everything they had together,
even with the distance of few hours.

You told me, so I doubted.
I doubted the way I loved.
I doubted I knew what I feel and how I feel,
but after putting myself under the heat of
uncomfortable observation
and comparing what I was to every girl you liked.

And now I can assure you
that I love you and I miss you
but just not the way you’d like.
For every hero that walks this earth,
that shines on screens and stories
takes up your face
and every quote of love gone good and love gone bad
brings up our image.

But my kind of love knows not how to turn away from
everything I have always loved
(even my loneliness)
just because I love you.
So sorry for not being the usual.
Sorry for being this weak.

“More Boxes” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

ffkmffke

Everyday I buy more boxes and more trunks,
to stow away the harmless opinions and stories of mine
that have never left my mouth,
and have never known
how the cold air of this world feels like.
They are better off not knowing
how they are going to be broken and crushed
till nothing of them is left.
Let them die in the voiceless trunks.
At least a corpse of what they were
and the soul of what they lost
shall be locked in the same walls.
That’s the only kindness I am capable of delievering-
to spare them the purity of meaning
and dignity of thought
that was never put to question
and never put to shame
by this world
that to everyone does the same.

“Map” – Nayana Nair

C6Gqj-TUYAAXB6w

I lose memory of the nights
when you crept up the walls of my life.
When you planted the seeds of doubt
and made my each step wary
and my words full of fear.
One day I woke up knowing
that I was not me, but you.
I was living the second chance of your life.
I could no longer make the decisions
that I want to make.
I just had to stay clear
of all your mistakes.
That was my map.
Everything else,
even me,
seemed hazy and inconsequential
in front of your plans.
But how long can we bear
the weight that no one put on us,
that we stole from their stories and silent sobs.
How much of our life is ours?

“Sparkler’s Trail” – Nayana Nair

e8c7152d9e0cd56839e0d4116f0fcfc6

The duration of time we speak of as days
is just our stories breaking and bleeding
from moment to another.
The fragments of our memories
are just bookmarks to pages
with words that has been long erased.
And all that we are left with
are threads of time suspended in our eyes,
that really isn’t here
and yet it is the only thing we have
and the only thing we want.

“Midnight Call” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

sleepgirl

There is somewhat
a hesitancy in me
to I pick up the call
at midnight.
The ring sounds different.
It has a shaky sound
immitating the hands
that must be struggling to hold
phone in the very hand
through which countries of stories
have slipped into darkness.
Leaving behind
this person
who must feel like a character
who has lost his story.
And I am afraid
I can’t offer him
the words that can build up his life back,
that can calm his chaotic breathing,
and shuddering heart.
I can’t do it.
Because I was once on the other side
and my hands are still shaking.
I turn around in my bed all night
trying to reassure the only heart
that I can heal.

“Be With Me” – Nayana Nair

angel2

My pain sits on my shoulder, clings to my neck

and sings stories of years that defined me.

How it had no one else but me.

It was so fierce, yet so fragile.

I felt the urge to protect it.

From anything. From everything.

I wanted to protect it from every cure.

I wanted it to be with me. To be a part of me.

I felt I would be a little less me

if it left my body.

I didn’t mind this pain decaying my body.

I didn’t mind it’s echoing cries and lament.

I just wanted it to be there always.

But when pain decided to leave me,

I felt that life has left my body.

I cried realizing that it was never a part of me.

I don’t think I cried cause I missed pain.

I cried for there is nothing in my life I can be sure of.

Not even pain.

dezedusblog

See also http://dezedusone.wordpress.com/

Lucas Dewaele, dagboek

Over fotografie en leven.

Let the Images Speak

Olivia May Photography

Vagando Por Mundopolis

Blog de viajes Travel Blog

Il Canto delle Muse

La cosa importante è di non smettere mai di interrogarsi. La curiosità esiste per ragioni proprie. Non si può fare a meno di provare riverenza quando si osservano i misteri dell'eternità, della vita, la meravigliosa struttura della realtà. Basta cercare ogni giorno di capire un po' il mistero. Non perdere mai una sacra curiosità. ( Albert Einstein )

Music Tinkerbell

JJ's Music Diary

bardtke.net

Just another daily photo blog by Christoph Bardtke

Lire dit-elle

L'oreille du taureau à la fenêtre De la maison sauvage où le soleil blessé Un soleil intérieur de terre Tentures du réveil les parois de la chambre Ont vaincu le sommeil Paul Eluard

Tylko fotografia

czyli kilka słów i przemyśleń z fotografią w tle

The Grand Narrative

Korean Feminism, Sexuality, Popular Culture

Blaze of Obscurity

“The swallow that hibernates underwater is a creature called yearning.” David Quammen

cartifaine

Taraba cartilor de altadata. Nerecomandat minorilor

EPOCHE' (fotoblog di francesco)

"Io non dischiudo nè nascondo ma al contrario faccio vedere" (Eraclito)

rabirius

photography and other things

... on being and becoming ...

... mobius faith imaging ...

Falderal

Zomaar wat

Wish I Were Here

Journeys Through Place and Time