Letter From A Hopeless Romantic

Hi Love

You have always loved to play hide and seek, haven’t you? You seem to pretty good at it. Seeking, was never my cup of tea. I give up now! I think the time has come for your “dhappa”. I wouldn’t mind it at all. In fact, I’d secretly love it. I’d finally get to see you and your smile.

I see you dying of laughter as you try to teach me to dance. I with a sheepish grin fail terribly to match your steps. It’s not my fault though! How so you expect me to concentrate while you giggle incessantly.

I see us discussing how modern love is not love. I see us doing everything old-school. I see us having intelligent conversations.

And booookssss! I don’t usually lend books, but for you I’ll make an exception. We’ll collect books together! I’ll try to catch your literary references and will try to make some too. Have you read The Perks of Being A Wallflower? It’s my favorite book! Don’t worry if you have seen the movie already. The best part is that the author has only directed the movie.

I see you laughing not at my jokes, but at how hard I try to crack them. I will teach you to appreciate puns, don’t worry. You’ll see how it is the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

I am yet to figure out whether you are gonna be a tea or coffee person. I’ll make you like tea, that’s for sure.

I know about all that talk of self love and you-dont-need-anyone-else, but without you there , the world somehow seems a very lonely place to be.

We haven’t probably even met (have we?) and I have already burdened you with so many expectations, haven’t I? You know how much I romanticize things. I know you’ll be just perfect (See? another expectation!).

Or maybe none of my fantasies come true. All I know is that you’ll be worth all the wait. So when do you plan your “dhappa”?

Only yours
Hopeless Romantic

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Lets give people a chance!

Why is it that people, friends, partners fall apart?

Why is that people who ‘knew’ one another inside-out suddenly become strangers?

Is it because we ‘understand’ them so well that we don’t make efforts to understand them anymore?

Why is it that our benefit-of-doubt never seems to favour our loved ones?

Why is it the easiest to pass sweeping judgements about people we care about?

Maybe for once, lets give people a chance.

Saying Out Loud

You know there are a few things that you have always wanted to say out, put it on record, but never really did. I have always been a wallflower. I have tried to blend in groups and failed. Every single time.

Here are some facts about me:

  • I am socially awkward. I have tried making small talk, but I have always failed. I cannot keep a conversation going. I absolutely lack those skills. I want to talk to people sometimes but, I don’t know the algorithm to do so. Even when I really want to talk to someone, I fail terribly. Initiating a conversation is a Herculean task for me. I am absolutely bad at keeping touch with people. This has cost me many of my friends.
  • The world is a very lonely place to be. They say the idea of love or “the one” is overrated. You don’t need someone to complete yourself. You are self-sufficient. Wouldn’t it be nice though to have someone you could go back to anytime and talk about absolutely anything without any fear or hesitation? Isn’t this the “one” everyone seeks? Someone called “home”.
  • Music? Dance? Not my cup of tea. For me, it is just noise. Plain noise. Never been able to truly appreciate these art forms. Give me dead silence over these any day. Coming to parties, let’s not even talk about it. Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than those trippy lights and loud music.
  • I crave deep meaningful conversations. Not just talking but communicating. I feel that I often give out the impression that I am not very keen on talking.My social awkwardness reigns supreme. If only one could look through my mind.
  • The thing that I hate the most? The fact that people build/modify their opinions about a person based on what others have to say about him/her despite already knowing and understanding that person. If someone is nice to me why should I believe you when you say that he is not a nice person. As long as he is nice to me, everything’s fine.

Conversations

S: Why are you so quiet? You don’t talk much now, do you?
T: No. I don’t.
S: Why? What? Did something happen?
T: No. Not really.
S: Then?
T: I am scared.
S: Scared of what?
T: Scared of what I have become. Scared of the words that come out of my mouth. Words that I seem to have lost control over.
S: You know, you can talk to someone if you want to.
T: Yeah, I know.
S: Then why don’t you?
T: Doesn’t everyone have their plates full already? If I can’t lighten up their lives, I could atleast not dampen it any further with what goes on in my head. That’s the least I could do.

Fire.
It needs to breathe.
It needs to feel.
It needs to be free.

What happens though if this fire is tamed.
Suppressed.
Not allowed to breathe.

Does it fight?
Fight its suppressor.
For its color.
For its identity.
For its existence.

Or does it fizz out?
Gradually.
Losing its fire.
Untill fire is no longer fire.

When you have no one to run up to,
when words lump in your throat
for they don’t discover ears to rest.
Waiting for someone to knock on your door,
yet not letting them inside.
Paradox, ain’t it?

No, it’s not solitude,
for solitude is tranquil.
Loneliness, it consumes you.

Some things engrave upon you a mark,
a mark deeper than a bruise,
yet not deep enough to be wound.
Just a scar,
a scar camouflaged with make-up,
yet never letting you shut out,
its daunting presence.

Some things cling onto you
like parasites,
parasites that become the key to our survival,
parasites that become symbiotic.

Some things change you,
change you that your former-self seems an illusion,
change you that your memory deceives you.