Just need an Escape


They say that when God closes a door, he opens another. Well, it feels like until now I was in a room full of windows, too small for my size. Like those Windows were not for me to escape but to sustain me. Those windows just gave me enough to survive. Not to live. And now it feels like the wind is shutting them in and I’m not strong enough to fight against them. Like my hands are not enough to fight against the blow and I’m losing a battle. Deep inside I do know that this time will pass. There will come a time when the storm will subside leaving a mess behind to be cleaned up. But today, I have to focus on fighting. On getting through this. Tomorrow, I’ll focus on an escape. On how to squeeze through those small windows.

I love that moment. When you’re on a long drive or doing something and you zone out. You forget your problems. Everything.

I suffer from drapetomania. I don’t know who I am anymore or whether I fit in anymore. I am lost. I feel like an outlier.

I just wanna smash through the walls around me and get out.


I just need to get out.




I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.

I’m known as the spoilt one in my friend circle. They like me that way. TBH I’ve never gotten close to a friend since forever. I honestly don’t want history to repeat itself. I know, firsthand, how it feels when a person you confided your deepest secrets spills them into the world, not giving a damn about your privacy. And that incident has made me suspicious of anyone who comes close to the real me.

I feel depressed, desperate. I feel exposed when I tell someone a pinch about my real personality.

Burying my head in books and drowning in music hasn’t helped me like I thought would. Guess what, I haven’t been able to drown this melancholic feeling in any way.

I’m in one of those moods where I want to kill somebody for apparently no reason.

I’m tired. The kind when I’m in dire need of peace, not sleep.

I’m exhausted.

I just wanna lie down and sleep for eternity.

Apparently, sleep doesn’t help when it’s your soul that’s tired.

Not giving a fuck for school, grades, or anything. That’s what I want.

I want a break.

I want a moment for myself.

Just me and the sound of wind chimesat my window giving me company.

I wanna go back to Manali and reside there in nature’s lap.

I wanna spend the rest of my life living, not just surviving.

Those 8 days in Manali made me feel like I was in some ecstasy, like everything was right, like I had no worries in my life.

Now, it feels like I’m carrying this burden around. . you know.

Now, I understand the real meaning of Hiraeth. This is what it feels like on the deepest level.

I wanna live my life as a participant, not as a spectator.

I want to be loved. I want a guy’s arms around me, to hold me when I’m feeling like this, to tell me that it’s gonna turn out okay in the end. That I’m gonna survive through this dark night and a rising sun is waiting for me on the horizon. I just wanna believe that the horizon is full of hopes and even though it feels like I’m surrounded by this never-ending fog, it’s gonna end soon. 

I want him to tell me that he is here to hold me. I want a guy to come close and I want to confide my secrets with the right guy. And I to meet this guy soon.

Windows to the Soul

Reading Material

 I feel I was born with a reading list I’ll never finish.
Where to start?
There was a time when someone would ask me what I want I would say”a library in a peaceful place and just leave me alone with enough sustenance”.
I guess I started reading when I was very young. My father took me to the library in our town. It has a children’s section with boards and computers and many board games. At that age I was fascinated with the plethora of possibilities I had in that room. I remember my father would have to come and convince me to leave. I never wanted to.
(Good old days. How I miss them.)
My friends,ah, they were so envious. All of them wanted to come with me. My father could only take 1 apart from me(we didn’t use our car much back then).
Bear with this rant.
Gradually, I began reading(those typical fairy tales and comics). And again my father would have to come and convince me to leave(this time it’d be books).
I remember my first novel. It was “A Thousand Splendid Suns”. BTW the book is splendid, beautiful, I have no words for it.
“Never judge a book by it’s cover.” I do. Imagine if according to people’s different perspectives every book has a different cover. No need to go through every book’s first few pages to make sure that you wanna read the book. It’d be HEAVEN.
 I was reading GOT (I SWEAR I’LL KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU SPOIL IT FOR ME)recently. Got into wattpad and fanfics and the tv show so much that I can’t recollect what’s exactly going on. This is what I hate. I buy a book and don’t get time to read it and I feel this burden on me that I’m not doing justice to the book. And then I feel soo guilty.
That’s the main reason why I’m on a break from my fantasy of books. Now all I want is to listen to music and do something interesting other than books. People think of me as a bookworm. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t believe it that I,out of all people, am taking a break from books. But, cut me some slack. It’s not like I’ve left reading for my lifetime. I still enjoy wattpad and blogs.
Lemme know what u r currently reading.
BTW Enigma if you’re reading this, I am who you think I am.



People think I’m easygoing. Think that I adapt easily to any situation. They don’t me from the inside. Don’t know what goes inside my head. Don’t know what I like ,what I don’t.
Don’t even know what I fear.
That’s what I fear.
Knowing that everyone knows about me. Thinking about it I realise I don’t fear exposure as much as Judgement.
Imagine a mirror that could reveal your personality, would you dare look?
Judgement is the fear well deserved in a narrow-minded society. It’s the ultimate nightmare I dread. Knowing that my thoughts are like an open book for everyone to read and I don’t have ANY power on it. Hate the thought of even people judging me. That’s the reason why I love anonymosity. It conceals my identity but exposes my thoughts. Anonymosity ensures that people don’t categorize my face with a character merely on the basis of whether they agree to my thoughts or not.



As Haruki Murakami said when people open their hearts, they get better.

Rightly said, joy, when shared, unravels and pain, when shared dwindles.

However, sometimes healing isn’t an option. Healing changes us in such a way that we can never be the same again. Every wound we go through takes a toll on us, whether body or soul.

Time doesn’t heal. It merely diminishes, eventually leaving a scar. Scars have the power to remind us that the past actually happened. The past was real. Scars signify the hurdles we’ve been through. No medicine can erase the scars that stains our souls from the wounds we’ve been through.

These scars are an opening into the most beautiful part of our souls.

Some people see scars,


Wounds, they remember.

To all of us,

It should be proof of the fact,

That there is healing.

Scars aren’t ugly. Scars are to be seen as a sign of beauty. Scars do not mark the dead or the dying. A scar means, you survived.

Scars are tattoos with better stories.




Denial lays down boundaries, defines where our limits lie, define what we are entitled and not entitled to do.

I’m sure a feminist would be able to give a speech on the real meaning of denial. I, on the other hand, find it extremely “clichéd”. Perhaps ‘cos I haven’t been so unfortunate as to go through such an incident.

Denial is the final answer to a question, disregarding any further argument.

But, as human tendency works, people find it encouraging to do something they’ve been forbidden to.

Admit it, all of us want to be legendary rule-breakers. For instance, when people come to know that I, a teenager, read “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy, they stare at me wide-eyed. The prominent reason I read FSOG was ‘ços I was curious to find out why my parents forbid me to do so. My parents would never allow me to read an erotica revolving around BDSM. That’s the reason I picked the book up. The reason we tend to break rules is ‘cos we are denied to do so.

But, really on a humorous note denial from a woman can have a sarcastic edge to it.

However, an honest and straight-forward denial stops and discontinues any act on the person’s part, in the context of violence, rights, morality, and what-not.

Musing on life


What is life?

I say life is living on the cusp of fiction and reality.

It is better to cross the line and suffer the consequences than walking on the line for the rest of your life.

Life is standing on the precipice of a whole big cliff, your jump leads you into the unknown. The thin line you stand upon is as risky as the valley beneath you.


Life is the path weaving between the walls of fantasy and cosmos. In order to safely get through you must cross over to one side. Standing on the cusp will only cause a disturbance. Walking on the cusp will lead you nowhere, just leave you all the more confused. Life will be successful only if you make a choice. Walking on the cusp will only make you more confused and not assist in clearing your fogged mind, not offer you a choice except to choose any one side. The decision you take decides your life.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
So, cross over to your choice of passion.