Spilled Prose - Blog Posts

There is something beautiful about being me

There is something beautiful about being me. I do not know if it is the endless amount of comfort I apply to myself like a muscle relaxer or maybe if it is the solace I find in my own company, my own mind, and conscience. Or maybe if it is the glowing brown skin adorned with artwork. Or the tireless hands who have life riddled between the palms. Sometimes, however, my mind is not a nice place to be. It whispers lies into reality and convinces me that what I see before me is more than it is. And it is not something I can run from, but rather something that has backed me into a corner and berated me. There is no running from the labyrinth of possibilities my mind lays in front of me. I wish I could count endless sheep or drown out the sound of the whispers with a repeated mantra over and over and over again, but my thoughts reign supreme. My thoughts control my day, my face, and my hands. But this mind that runs rampant throughout the day is mine to own. It is mine to claim and let it be known, there is a beauty to this madness. The beauty of seeing all sides of the same coin. Endless realities mean I do not have to be forced into one. There is beauty to owning something so wild, so dangerously quick, livid, and winding. There will always be another turn, another roundabout, or sharp right. And at the end of the day, at the end of my days, when my bones ache and my body begs for rest, there will still be my wild mind wreaking a beautiful havoc in my head.

Mantra article fiction paragraph piece

never not missing you

here i am again

the shrill winter wind creeping its way into my bones

a crimson sweater hugging my body

sitting on a wooden park bench

pumpkin coloured trees all around

my lush lips shivering against the warmth of the coffee in the mug

heart longing for her arms to envelope me in a hug

the memories were still too strong

vivid pictures flowing through my mind

a heap of emotions flooding my body

at any given time

all the running wild

soon enough turned volatile

the loud smiles

and hallway laughs

turned into broken promises

and broken hearts

i tried my best to repair the damage that was done

fighting through the pain

all the places they planned on visiting when we went to london

all of it gone in vain

a silent tear snuck out of my eye and rolled down my cheek

it had been a long, excruciating week

all i wanted was for my best friend to be next to me

by my side when things got tough

but i realised then that people never stay

not even the ones you were sure of

don’t

the last time i sat here, a friend of mine promised that they wouldn’t let me go. the last time i sat here, i was reassured that whatever would happen, id have them by my side. the last time i sat here, they held my hand and told me that i wouldn’t lose them. the last time i sat here, they said they wouldn’t give up on me.

and i think that is what hurts the most.

not only did you go back on everything you said that day, you also gave up on me.

so next time, don’t sit there and don’t let them make promises to you because life has its own way of going about

and during those times, the people who promised they’d stay are nowhere to be found.

ive imagined this very moment so many times

i

have

lost

count

imagined how it would feel if you felt the same emotions back. how it would feel if this ever actually became something more than just friends. how it would feel if admitted it to eachother.

and now that we’ve done all that.

im confused and all my emotions are mixed and i don’t know what to feel and what not to feel.

because you see, i like you. i like you a lot more than i realized. a lot more than ill ever care to admit. because admitting it means accepting the hurt that has found its way into my heart.

because this, whatever this is, could hurt a lot of people.

and im scared that if i allow myself to fall for you and if you don’t fall for me, then you’ll have the power to wake up one day and just end this. and i don’t want to give anyone the power to be able to make a decision for me. and i don’t think you’ll be able to deal with me every single day, knowing we like eachother, and then not call me your girlfriend. i think a stage will come when you’ll get fed up with the small smiles in the hallways and the conversation only we know about and being something in the midst of official and nothing, treading the very fine line of friends and more than friends.

a part of me believes that you are actually a nice person and that you genuinely care about me but another part of me believes that this is just a game for you and you aren’t and never will be as invested in this as i am and will be.

to be honest, im just at crossroads.

i do not want to end up getting hurt. i donot want to lose my innocence and my laughter and my will to smile. i donot want to spend nights in misery not knowing if you care or if you don’t. and most of all i donot want to spend my time in agony not knowing if a certain fight will end us.

so im doing what i have to

to save myself from the aftermath of this relationship

even though i know that this decision may end up haunting me and i may end up regretting it at times, regretting the fact taht i let something so beautiful go just because i was scared.

and during those times i truly hope that i can remind myself why i did what i did and that it was for the best.

"No War"

I looked to the east and there was a war.

I looked to the west and there was a war.

I looked north and I looked south and there was a war.

I looked within and there was a war.

I felt no peace, no safety, no comfort anywhere.

With bone deep, aching tiredness, I looked at the arduous journey before me with quiet, blank eyes.

Whatever my destiny maybe, I started with the war within.

I bled and cried out emotions, pains and fears.

Years of souls haunting me from beyond their graves.

I fought and I fought and I fought.

They whispered sweet nothings in my ears. Their sirens call piercing as they wail and they wail and they wail.

I still fought and I fought and I fought.

And before I knew, their voices grew weak.

They washed over me like sea foam, dull and bleak.

Then I built and I built and I built.

After what felt like centuries, I lifted my head.

I looked to the east and I looked to the west.

I looked to the north and I looked to the south.

There was no war, only peace.

~Me

I gave you a love so vast it could have swallowed cities whole. I built galaxies in my chest just to make room for you, carved out pieces of my soul and called them home so you would never feel alone. I was there and offering, but you… you only ever loved the echo of me, the shadow I cast in your mind, not the woman who bled herself dry to be enough. You didn’t love me. You loved the idea of being loved by someone like me. And that was the slow undoing.

You were never really there, not when I shattered quietly in rooms we shared, not when I fell asleep hoping you would see me again, not just look at me. I held up the heavens for us while you watched, arms folded, eyes elsewhere. And still, I stayed. Still, I gave. Foolish, maybe. Devoted, definitely.

Now, that it’s all gone. I have crossed oceans of pain to reach a shore where your name doesn’t burn on my skin anymore. I am somewhere better, freer, lighter. And just when I have stitched myself together with gold thread and midnight prayers, you come back.

You come back with a whisper of apology, a handful of words you never had the courage to speak when I was drowning right in front of you. Why now? Why always after?

It is the cruel theater of time, isn’t it? The final act where ghosts knock at your door once you have already exorcised them. People see your worth only in absence, crave your presence only when it is no longer a gift they are entitled to. Love should never be a posthumous award.

And yet, here I am, haunted not by you, but by the echo of who I was when I loved you. And that is the deepest ache of all.

(Darjeeling’22)