Latest Posts by aakritisitaulaa - Page 3
December 1, 1928 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977
Sometimes I feel like my dreams are connected to something. I have no idea how and why. Everyday I see a new visuals. As if I am flipping the page without reading that chapter well. It is weird how I am attracted to things. All those people's perception about things doesn't bother me at all. Souls, spirits, ghosts, witches, demon, devils, angels, god, everything means same to me. Being a child, I loved to talk alone. I could always feel someone's presence around me. I used to talk addressing them soul and witch and that never made me fearful, not even once. I am not scared of these thoughts, these feelings which are considered strange by normal people. That sword I saw in my dream with something engraved on it, I couldn't forget it. I am always a new character in my dream but I've never been hurt there. I dreamt of water for few days. I was going to die in flood. Next time, I saw myself swimming like a mermaid in underwater town. Years ago I dreamt about aliean. An aliean who always looked for me and who promised to take me someday. It was so real that I didn't go outside of home for few days. And after few months I stopped seeing that dream and I am always feeling like I am not human. Two days ago, I touched fire and I could feel it. I could read what fire was trying to tell me. Even if it is subconscious and just a random thought, how could that feel so intense to me. Fire, Water and Soil is so connected to me. It feels like I am a tree whose roots are all wide spread everywhere in the universe. My beliefs are unacceptable. I feel like people take science as a weapon and war is coming soon. Science isn't helping us to evolve. Everyday thousands of life get deceased and it's not because of natural calamities, it is because of humans. This makes me question whether I am a human or not. I can read animals. I don't know if it is accurate or not however something is trying to communicate with me. It feels unreal. I feel unreal.
I plucked you like a rose
You stab me with a thorn
I tolerated the pain
But you wether like a rose
"You look awful without me." She whispered in his ear as his hand rushed along with her waist.
They were dancing. It was dark, vague dark. The only thing they could see were their eyes glistening by the reflection of moon.
"I want this night forever, just with you." He mumbled slowly.
"You have me." she said when his fingers were moving through her lips until he moved forward to feel them with his own.
It was their first kiss and it seems like that went great. They had booked a hotel room near the lake so even they forget their hotel location, they could find it by lake.
She was taking her clothes off. He was gazing at her body as if he is watching something so as valuable as souvenir. The temptation he had to resist to not feel the delicacy of her skin was so cruel. His eyes were restless.
"Don't stare." she said furiously.
"I serve art." He replied with a kiss on her forhead.
They were writing an epic on eachother's eyes.
"How can something be so pleasing and painful at the same time.?" She questioned with ocean in her eyes.
All their life, they were longing for intimacy, a companion, a partner, a friend. And now they have eachother but they couldn't figure out the situation. Why is it so hard to accept that you are really in love.?
"This must be my most genuine hug." He said knotting his arms around her.
They danced that whole night, screamed on Taylor Swift, wrote poems, cried, laughed, played, jumped. It counted on the list of their best nights.
dreaming uncertain things about certain people feels intriguing.
Life moves in seasons; we bloom, we wilt, we blossom again. Go unafraid, go fearless, go graceful. Be. Nothing is final. I smile with more ease as I grow old, I love better, I am kinder. Also there is body ache at times, there are strange illnesses sprouting within, but there is grace settling in within me. I am so grateful.
You have many thoughts that could be well perceived by few ( I count myself, idk i might be wrong most of the times) and those are truly magical. But don't you get scared living in your world of esoteric concepts an notions.
I seem to have missed this question earlier.
See, life is such that uncertainty is structurally inherent.
Do I sometimes have self doubts? Am I uncertain of things? - I certainly am. But life is a play. I am not very conversant with the deeper theories of quantum mechanics, but it is fascinating enough that an electron behaves both as a particle and wave, its velocity precarious and unquantifiable except in probabilities. Many ways, this is true about our lives too.
Perhaps the point of being alive is just being alive. We are cursed to make abstract theories about life, afterlife, before life, in the middle of the life life and so on. I am no exception. There are times when I am foolish enough to make theories and life invariably always quashes those beliefs. I have been humbled by life over and over again.
I am scared. Sometimes. Such is life.
But when I am in deep harmony with life, surrendering myself to its rhythm, joyfully ebbing on the undulating waves of highs and lows, I am deeply fulfilled. Grateful to be alive. To see and feel this miracle called world. It is so beautiful. So mysterious. And we are here for such short period of time. There is so much to marvel at. Let's devote ourselves to curiosity and gratitude. We will certainly grow old and die. What is there to lose? Just rejoice.
that house next to the jungle belongs to a care-taker
people call it macabre night cause it ignites terror
there is a rumour escalated throughout the town
a woman was found dead in blood stained gown
no one was brave enough, they didn't dig her a grave
no one tried to let her soul have a peaceful death
first week and people came there just to see her
they raped the body and made sure it was just a cadaver
she was already dead, i guess her soul was agonizing
how shameless humans are, didn't hesitate to do the sin
second week, my body couldn't rest thinking of that sight
she was dead and people were acting as if it was all right.
one morning, an old man came infront of my door
he asked me water and said, "can she rest her core.?"
tears drifted from my eyes, i cried from within that day
i was brave and decided to walk on forbidden way
i paced forward with ocean and flood in my eyes
i went closer to her body, i kept my trepidation aside
i saw a shovel nearby, started to dig at the very corner.
carried her body by my hands and stood to mourn her.
what doesn't kill me makes me want to die.
you touched me when i was the most unpure. you cleaned me when i was stained with their words. i've been drained like the waste and wandered between depth of ocean. water took away my thirst but it couldn't pacify the burn that was rising inside me. i drank all those dews, every morning, all midnights, just to live. they were poison, i was dying. and i couldn't figure out what was wrong with me until i was laid on my death bed. all of the people i have seen in my life till that day came to see me but no one ever, not even once, tried aware me of all those thorns that could have pricked my whole. i am still sinking and i will forever do until i reach to the end. i am thankful to you for washing away my bruises but i could never forget that you were the one to drown me. you let me sink till my lungs were filled with water and there was no place for air for me to breathe. i was gone and dead.
-Aakriti.
~sink(water).
it took my life to live.
10.49AM FRI 21 OCT 2022.
they don't see the dew on the leaves which were my tears because those aren't from my eyes.
they don't know i cannot cry because i am just an echo of desert, and everything is dry.
instead of my eyes, my heart cries.
my heart yells evertime a nail is pierced on my soul which is so concealed that it is as invisible as air.
i have no place to shed tears. i have no home to weep.
for me, these leaves cry. they know the pain i am enduring. they understand my heartache.
i have eyes but they see me more. they are my companion in my best and worse. they give me a way to breathe.
i could never be more thankful to what earth gave me and how soil is always giving me a place to keep my feet on.
i am fortunate enough to have a friend no one else has.
you were adding poison to each sip of my drink when i thought those were the alms keeping me extant.
you were the one stitching me up to push me in the mud when i was piercing myself with the thorns to bring you roses.
you where making me filth when i was wishing every night to the sky so you could have the lights and stars.
i always thought love was pain but love is more likely a way of contentment in grief because it makes you feel alive even tho' it is something that killed you.
I think everything in this whole universe is about love and art. And when it's not about love and art then it's about the absence of love and art.
Fall in love. Maybe it doesn't have to be with someone. Fall in love with music, art, dancing in the dark, car rides at lam, the glistening of the stars, the colors of the sun as it rises, the smell of flowers, the feeling of adrenaline that takes over your whole body and suffocates your lungs with joy, good friends who bring out your best, silence, noise, fall in love with the little things that make you feel most alive and find purpose. Fall in love with life.
– a.s.b
she is beautiful.
they envy her.
her face is as graceful as swan.
but they do not know all the scars in her cheeks are cleaned by the tears pouring down every night.
and her hands, they are burned, just like the clouds during sunset.
because tears are then fallen onto the hands and the flame of the skin has heated the drops in an extent that they are as fiery as lava.
her eyes resembles purity which her body defeatedly denies.
despite the grudges she hides beneath that skin, she look flawlessly perfect, indistinguishablely a moon.
-Aakriti.
being a human is hard when you are surrounded with inhumanity.
they don't see the dew on the leaves which were my tears because those aren't from my eyes.
they don't know i cannot cry because i am just an echo of desert, and everything is dry.
instead of my eyes, my heart cries.
my heart yells evertime a nail is pierced on my soul which is so concealed that it is as invisible as air.
i have no place to shed tears. i have no home to weep.
for me, these leaves cry. they know the pain i am enduring. they understand my heartache.
i have eyes but they see me more. they are my companion in my best and worse. they give me a way to breathe.
i could never be more thankful to what earth gave me and how soil is always giving me a place to keep my feet on.
i am fortunate enough to have a friend no one else has.
-Aakriti.
what if we could see wind..?
a cold breeze in winter morning or gentle flow in sunny day.
love is so as like as wind.
a very essential but invisible thing.
it isn't just an object or a prize, it is something keeping me alive and each one of us.
we cannot see what is letting out hair flow in a space where there is barely something, or what is drying our clothes when there is no sun.
there is so many things we don't think about.
example, love.?
can we ever reach to the end of how much we adore someone..?
everything is so less and few infront of them.
we don't know how much we inhale the air but we know it is something as valuable as our life.
will we ever know it's importance as long as we survive..?
-Aakriti.
i never adored any gold more than the fall, this moment of year.
it says something. it speaks warmth to me and abandons me in frozen land.
but still again after all, i will be waiting for it.
just as it names itself fall, i remember myself. i recall the time when i fell like those fallen leaves and noone stood to pick me up. instead i have been stamped over by all those shoes and dirty feet untill snow falls as well just to cover me and lessen my pain. sky feels so miserable and cold that it cries for me, to save me.and i couldn't be more thankful to anyone and anything.
none of those golden makes me delightful more than the sunset beside yellow leaves as if it cries calling night.
-Autumn
-anonymouslie_
The Letter to Nobody
Dearest,
It is cold today. After a week-long heat wave, the bay area has cooled down. It even rained the other day - what a treat!
The rain has clarified the skies. I didn’t know the blue of the Californian skies could be any bluer. But they could. They have: And they remind me of home.
I am inundated with assignments. I read most of the afternoons. I don’t remember my eyelids being tired this way. This tiredness is new to me, as are the golden sycamore leaves, the souvenirs of autumn. My first fall in the US, tired from reading stories all day long.
Fall.
Such a terse, poetic name for a weather.
You were startled by my admiration when I first admitted it to you. I suspect it struck you as incorrect. In a way, you were right.
Why should the spring buds admire the fall? Why should they indulge in the promise of death, decay, falling?
Fall.
It is relaxing just to even pronounce it out loud. My muscles groan. In the distant skies, the clouds have thinned out into round patches that look like doily. I smile. I always wanted to learn crocheting. I know I never will. But I will look at doilies and I will look at doily-looking clouds and tell myself I wanted to learn crocheting. Why do I do this? Who am I lying? And I am not even lying. I would like to learn crocheting but only if life was a little longer than it is. I shift my gaze back to my screen. Words. I love them.
Rustle. Why do I have to be distracted like this?
A swarm of desiccated sycamore leaves. It is cute that they always travel in a band. My windowsill is their nestling place. The specters of autumn.
Is this a goodbye? Are you here to say goodbye?
I say goodbye out loud. The leaves receive my idiocy with solemn indifference.
Indifference. You pretended but you couldn’t be half as indifferent as these leaves.
I never understood why you, with all your appetite for the unknown, should be threatened by the admiration. But admiration is threatening. In old french, it means to regard the person in awe.
It is threatening to be regarded with awe. What if we couldn’t live up to it? What if our existence contaminates someone’s pool of awe? Will we be able to live with so much guilt?
I understand you better now. Now that you are gone.
You indeed disappointed me. You faltered when it mattered the most. You betrayed my trust more than once.
Strangely enough, life is setting up a reverse drama for me. I have a far younger boy approach me with the admiration I had for you. And I feel burdened. I try to tell him that this is stupid. And it is. I know it is, because I have been stupid. But he persists. He brings me tea and chocolates.
I am waiting to break his heart. But that is the only way forward. Doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him. I want him to fly higher.
You are dead. Every day, life teaches me how/why to forgive you. I forgive you. One carelessness a day. You were also petty. Just like me. None of us can rise higher than our fears. At least, not all at once.
I forgave you this today - your suspicion of me.
- bhushita
i kept the lock lose,
just for his presence.
maybe he would come,
for that i cut the fence.
he came with matches,
and stones on his hand.
he burned everything,
just left me a bare land.
i loved him all my life,
but he shattered me so.
i kept him above all,
never wanted him to go.
i was living all alone,
he left me like a past.
i never fell in love,
he was my ever and last.
i do write, a lot.
How was your day..?