Does it sting?

Does it sting,
she asked me,
scared at the sight of
an injection for blood sample

Does it sting,
she asked me,
frustrated
for scoring 99 instead of 100
in Math.

Does it sting,
she asked me,
frantically looking
for her favorite book
in the pile of waste paper.

Does it sting,
she asked me,
head in my lap,
thinking about her best friend
who sits with her new classmates
from Arts for lunch now.

Does it sting,
she asked me,
settling in for B.Com which
her parents chose for her
and she couldn’t say no to
because she didn’t know
what else to do

Does it sting,
she asked me,
before telling her father
that she wants to drop out
because she loves letters
more than numbers
even when she is good at both

Does it sting,
she asked me,
upset on landing a job
that pays peanuts
compared to her
engineer friends

Does it sting,
she asked me,
before chopping off
her waist length hair
because it was boring

Does it sting,
she asked me,
skin flushed
after she said yes
to the cute guy at work
for coffee

Does it sting,
she asked me,
before running
off to Greece
a night before her wedding
because she did not want it.

And each time,
I told her yes
It stings
When the needle pierces your arm
When the 100 seems out of sight
When that book is missing
When your best friend is lost
When you say yes to something
because you don’t know better
When you quit on something
because you can’t do it anymore
When you settle for something
because it is your only choice
When you fall in love,
and get heartbroken
or don’t fall in love
and stay on the fence before running away from all of it

Because happiness needs courage
and courage stings
Because courage is not absence of fright,
it is acting in spite of it
Because it is okay to wear your heart on your sleeve
and it is okay to feel scared
Because everything you want
is on the other side of fear.

Image Courtesy: 3rd Perspective

via Sting

The Break-up

Dear Writer’s Block,

It’s not you, it’s me…I know that I had vowed to write regularly at the blog. I had promised myself to post at least three entries on the blog every week (3!!!!). And I know that 5 weeks are over and I have done just 2 posts till now (2!!!!). So when my good friend messages me everyday reminding to write something, I tell him that I am not “feeling it” or “I have no time” or “I don’t know what to write”. I talk about you, tell him that it is you, who doesn’t let me fill pages with my words, who doesn’t let me complete the last part of my story series, For the love of Food.

But I know it is not you. I know it is me. I am too jarred by all the things happening around me. I am too distracted, too volatile in temperament these days. From past couple of years, the first few weeks of a new year almost always bring with them a lot of uncertainty for me. This one seems to be taking the cake from all the past ones though. There is not one thing today in my life, where I can call myself “sorted”. Who knew adulting was this hard?

10 years ago, at this point of time, my worries were about getting a good grade in boards and getting admission into a decent college. And I used to tell myself,”I just need this, and I will be done forever.” I wish someone had told me that there would always be something-and that apprehension and anxiety about future, is the way of life.

So forgive me for putting the onus of my irregular writing on you. I have realized that life is like that, and that if I need to do something, I must take out time for it. And with my time invested in more fruitful pursuits, I am afraid I no longer have the luxury to spend it with you.

It’s over, Writer’s Block. A break-up 10 days before Valentine’s Day can be heartbreaking, but it is usually a good idea to quit things/people who are no good for us, isn’t it? It’s my time to shine through the darkness of uncertainities, and this is my journey, alone.

Sorry for all the pain,

A struggling writer

Featured Image: 3rd Perspective