voices in my head

Some days, Some days, when my mother comes to wake me up in the morning, I feel like a stranger to her. I feel like a stranger to my father sitting opposite on the breakfast table. I go out and the world feels so strange. Like everyone's been here for a long time and I kinda just arrived, a newcomer.  I feel like a stranger when I'm sitting with my friends and they're all laughing about something. But the strange thing is no one else identifies this. I'm the only one acting weird that too on the inside. I feel like a stranger when I look at myself in the mirror. What am I seeing? Do I like what I see?  These days I feel like a stranger to my life. Like, if my life was supposed to be a movie, I wouldn't be the protagonist or something. Hell, I wouldn't even be the sidekick of the hero. I wouldn't be the dumb guy always walking along with the hero.  Imagine a crowd shot, and I would be one of'em. Blend in the crowd. Out of focus. A chameleon.  And I don

Posting old snippets from notepad because no matter how bad it gets, I have to keep this ship afloat. Rather a hot day, though I sleep in for three hours more. I like days like this.  You're just sitting there and the room is ornamented golden by swift beams of sunlight. And you just feel alive thinking about the million things you wanna do or you could do. Augusts here are wet but hot. But there's always a decent amount of breeze that passes by occasionally. I stare into the fiber flower vase with fake flowers and fake leaves sitting there. It doesn't make any rustling sound. It doesn't even care to move with the occasional wind. It's like, "Hey, why do I have to be original in this fake world". I'm wearing nothing but boxers. Lying beside the window, supported by two pillows with green floral printed covers. Holding 'The Great Gatsby' paperback on one hand and a pencil, which has been with me since forever on the other hand. I remind myself o

  Holidays can be fun. I spent my holidays lying down on my bed doing nothing and thinking about everything. I think a lot. I think when I'm eating. I think when I’m walking. I think when I'm running. I think when I'm taking a shower. I think when I'm taking a pee. I think when I'm listening to music lying down alone in my bed. I think when I'm listening to music sitting on the doors of the train. I think when I’m driving. (which eventually led to me banging my face at the speed of 60kmph behind a parked Innova car. Some stitches, and dislocated bones, I think). I think when I'm being stood up by the lecturer for not doing homework. I think when people ask me, “you don’t talk much or what”. I think when my father is lecturing me about the future and how competitive the world is. I think when my brother asks me why are you so weird without actually asking it. I think when my mother asks me, “why are you so silent, you haven't talked much since you've

PS: This is not a movie review, this is me casually typing in the words that are coming out of my mouth starting now. And it's mainly about 'Manchester by the sea', but there's some other stuff too.  "I can't beat it" Two years back or something I saw a cut scene from 'Manchester by the sea', it was like an emotional scene involving Casey Affleck and Michelle Williams. It was so heartbreaking and since I kinda have a thing for sad movies I decided to watch it. So I search for the movie and see this poster :  I thought it was just like one of those sad romantic movies, you know like 'Blue Valentine', which I still haven't seen. So I dropped it. Two years passed, it came upon my shoulders to write a short write up about this same movie for a College thing. So I'm like okay, let's watch it anyway. 2 hours and 17 minutes later I am telling you, I haven't seen a movie which has portrayed the image and exact emotions of a broken m

 You know how fire extinguishers work? Umm... If I remember my high school textbook correctly. They form this blanket or like a cloud of carbon dioxide around the region of fire,  thus limiting the oxygen supply required for the fire to survive. Okay, your point being? Yeah, so I feel like that. Every now and then, I don't know, is it, God? Is it me? Is it the people around me? Society? My subconscious? I don't know, someone creates this cloud, dark cloud of nothingness around me, and it's sucking the oxygen out of my life. I feel like an ember every morning, just trying to overcome the cloud, survive. And I'm not choking, it's like sucking all the words from inside me, making me more silent every day. Also, I don't want to lose them, so I lay it all down here, in papers, in stickies, whatever piece of paper I can pass my final flickers of fire on to. Sayonara. *** Images: Pinterest

I wake up and it's raining. It has been raining since yesterday midnight The night at which we told things we never told each other When we both stood at the edge of the cliff of our fires, Vulnerable. Alarm reminds me it's an hour past midnight and I should probably get some sleep. I say rain reminds me of you. You say I scare you sometimes by telling these kinda things. I sigh. Yes. My thoughts can be a little bit scary sometimes, Deep. You send me poems written on amber papers. Poems. Words. Is that what binds us? Poems about souls, men women holding cigarettes, Me, you, us. I say I wish I could hear you read 'em You want to know why I don't know. Silence. I admit I'm a hopeless romantic. You say that may make my life painful And you're drained of love and may break hearts. I remember Augustus Waters, I say It'd be a privilege. You say sometimes you don't like who you are. I say neither do I. Maybe it's not

CHARLIE Sam, you ever think that if people knew how crazy you really were, no one  would ever talk to you? SAM All the time. 1:35AM I am awake. Completely awake. I want to be awake. I switch off the fan at regular intervals so I'll sweat and lose any drop of sleep incoming. I'm not lying on my bed right now. I've always liked confined spaces. I'm lying beneath it. Yes. I'm sweating but that's okay. My notebook by my side. A million thoughts rushing through my mind. It's like you just put your earphones into your pocket and 5 minutes later you take it out and it's all tangled. And you wonder what the fuck? I was just sitting there. No. Wrong metaphor. What I'm trying to say is that all these thoughts are tangled and mixed up. So I'm unable to just pick out one thought from it and write about it. It's a total mess. 2 AM You know how sometimes when we listen to a song a

Letting go. One thing I hate about myself I have trouble letting go. Places, people, books, movies. Wherever I go Whomever I meet Whatever I read Whatever I watch I do not want them to end I want the pursuit to go on I want the road to never end Because even if it was for a scant amount of time Once that our lives had met I feel like we’d shared a piece  Of ourselves with each other. Like we were destined to meet And fate brought us together. Some lines that were written precisely for you Characters that are relatable af Places that makes you feel like they’d been waiting, For you the whole time. Call me nostalgic Corny even I’d like to believe that I am original, veracious as one could get. And maybe in another world Not so pragmatic  We would continue our journey  Forever Forever and ever. Sayonara ***

Hey you, I have to say it, Quarantine sucks big time. You've left me under your coffee table. I think there are 5 other people currently lying above me. I'm having a hard time breathing. And I can't sleep. Thanks to all this dust. Anyways, there are some things I wanted to tell you but never did. Hey you, I know I'm not made of flesh and bones, like most of your friends. But I want you to know that I care for you. And I know you care about me too. And I know that you want us to be your little secret. so you keep me underneath your bed, corner of the coffee table, wherever you feel I'm safe. Hey you, I love it when you smell me. Your eyes become wider than usual. I love it when you spread your hands through me, Very carefully. Like you're going through a baby's hair. I love the look on your eyes, right after you'd told me everything about your day. Hey you, When it's past midnight and you're suffocated by your thoughts

Eighth-grade midterm open house Open houses, if there's one thing I hate about schools, that's Open houses. Yes, there are no boring classes but still not being a teacher's pet I'd rarely had the honor to hear good things about myself during my past encounters. But this time, It was different. I was able to score good grades in the exams and I hadn't participated in any mischievous activities in the past months. So I was more than happy to accompany my mother to meet the class teacher. The whole scenario went upside down when she saw the most talkative kid in the class walking towards her with a lively smile. I still remember that she started the conversation by calling out to God. To quote Thanooja Mam, the best class teacher I've ever had, "Oh my god, this Ajvad. Honestly, madam, I don't know what to do with your son. He is constantly talking in the class like he doesn't give a second's rest to his mouth or the teachers or the