How bad is it?

You want to know how bad it is. It is so bad that if you tell me that my mom is going to be fine after I leave then I will leave.

What do I mean by leaving? Exactly when you’re thinking. I don’t like the s-word anymore. It’s so overused that it has lost its meaning and kids tend to throw it around like it’s a joke. It’s not. At least not for me.

You know I don’t really care about my dad. He is a strong independent man and he knows how to conceal his emotions. He will be okay even without me by his side.

My brother? My baby brother. He is only 18. He will grow up to be a great man and he will tell people about me and how I was the reason he turned out to be that great guy.

My sister? She’s trying to get pregnant. She’ll have a baby. That baby.. my niece or nephew s/he will distract her. She’ll be over me soon.

But my mom, my mom she’s gonna spend the rest of her life thinking where she went wrong. She is gonna struggle to sleep at night because she is gonna keep thinking where did she fall short that her baby-girl ended up in a hospital bed and finally six-feet under.

So now you know how bad it is.

It is so bad that if you tell me my mom is gonna be okay when I leave then I’m gonna leave.


So What Happened Was

As she collapsed on the floor

I remember finding myself next to her

Contemplating all the times 

When I was down on my knees

And she was there for me..
When I couldn’t pick her up

Or warm up her cold hands

The sad truth hit me that

I was of no help to her

And as I looked around I realised

That without her no amount of air
In the world

Could help me breathe 

So I sat there trembling on the floor

Waiting for a miracle to occur

Yes, I have cancer.

On February 1, 16 we were given the results of my biopsy. My mother seemed quite disturbed. I, on the other hand oblivious of the medical terms being used was quite confident that my mother was over-reacting over some sort of ordinary infection as always. (Mothers I tell you!) Till three days later when it was revealed to me that torrents of torment were about to flood my life alongside chemotherapy and a year off from college.. 

Reflecting back, I was as thankless as a serpent. A rebellious teenager telling my parents I hated them and how my life was pathetic and now? I long for one chance, just one chance that I know I’m not destined to be granted. How for once I want to be my old self again just to make things right but I can’t.. How I desire what every human being takes forgranted.. health.

– While I’m sitting here hairless, smelling like a whole damn hospital, they’re flaunting their Victoria’s Secret merch.

-While all the people my age are staying up till midnight, flirting with their crushes, my internet search history comprises of some dark and twisty things that end up relating to death one way or another.

-As the world goes to sleep promising a better tomorrow, I sleep wondering if there will be one for me or not.

-Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night.. Oh! Not by the vibration of a text but by the affliction caused by myriads of hypothetical wrecking balls set on fire blasting my body.
-While they are complaining how their friends have turned out to be traitors, I can’t even commence to elaborate what it’s like to have your own body betray you in comparison.

-While my family is telling me sleep fights cancer I no longer want to fight cancer. Let it win already!

Next time you cry over someone  who doesn’t notice you or because you can’t afford the latest iPhone remember there’s always someone fighting a tougher battle than you. I have everything in my life from love to wealth. The only thing that I’m deprived of is time and I’d do anything to be anyone but me right now but unfortunately I can’t.

You think life is unfair? Wait till you have cancer. ( I hope you don’t though) *sighs* me and my sense of humor. 


After my previous article Yes, I was raped. I decided to use the first person narration again to make it more effective for the readers but as everyone in the comment section is asking me about my health let me clarify.

This is the story of my maternal aunt who was the same age as me when she went through this. She was diagnosed with leukemia and she lost the battle against cancer on 3rd February that year ( REST IN PEACE).. she left a void inside my chest and I wrote this article using first person narration to make it more affective for the readers and to see myself in her shoes.. Thank you for showing concern it means a lot. ❤

Whereas me? I’m living a healthy life..

Yes I Was Raped.

Dying.. It looks so easy in the movies. A person just dies due to sickness and yet it’s been two years since the night that the fatal sickness crippled under my skin, stained my heart jet black and my clothes blood red and I’m still breathing. I wonder how my heart and lungs are still working knowing that..

….To the world I am just a worthless insect that everyone wants to crush.

To the world I am a caged animal, they point fingers at me.

To the world, I am a chewing gum under the seat that they accidentally come in contact with and are disgusted to their guts.

To the world, I am a rotten wound that heals slowly but leaves a mark as a reminder.

To the world, I’m a timebomb. They need to learn that everything with a clock doesn’t blow up.

To the world, I am a book of pornography that everyone wants to read but no one wants to be seen holding.

To the world, I am an oppressed creature that would be better off dead.

To the world, I am a disgrace to my parents’ reputation…

Does a broken, pitiable, characterless raped girl like me have the right to ask a question without​ people turning their faces away from me? I have a question for this so called respectable society that disowns a raped victim and tells her she’s the one who’s at fault.


…So I was at fault when I cried for help at the top of my lungs and no one came to rescue me, rather the people stood there or ran away from there.

I was at fault when I tried to help myself by struggling and broke my nails and various bones along with my hopes and dreams.

I was at fault when after they left me there half-naked on the ground numb with pain and longing for death no one bothered checking on me.   

I was at fault when not even the death came to my rescue and I walked shoeless and drenched in blood through the streets and the audience didn’t come near me.

I was at fault when I knocked the door of my parents’ home as a cry for help in front of everyone and became a disgrace to my parents’ reputation…

I was at fault so my life is a living hell and the guys who did this to me get to live in peace. Why? because being raped is a shameful thing and being a rapist is not?

Yes, I was raped but I no longer wear that shame as a dress. I no longer wear the perfume of regret. I no longer try to put together my broken heart because my pride is my armour. I’m proud that I survived. I survived.


Picture Source:- Google.

A Sad Song With A Happy Chorus.

We were walking back from that famous cafe nobody visited anymore. Wedding music was playing in the background because there was a ceremony going on almost 5 feet away from the table that we had taken about 3 minutes ago. I remember we exited the cafe and walked to your car. I opened the door for myself and sat there next to you. It was dark but I could see you smile that beautiful smile of yours. Your hands gripping the steering wheel. My legs trembling like a one-way earthquake. We smiled, we laughed.. we exchanged gestures. We even accidentally drove into  a graveyard and I thought maybe that happened because you were too into me but it actually happened because we couldn’t figure out how to use the GPS. Finally after roaming for another 10 minutes we reached my neighborhood there you dropped me off in that dark street to walk back home. I never told you I accidentally walked into the wrong street and it took me extra five minutes to find home. As I was roaming through the dark streets blinded by the headlights of the cars passing me by, something inside me had changed and suddenly I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I thought everything was okay. I thought maybe this was the stitch in time that’d save nine. I thought maybe, just maybe the cloudy sadness will vacate my head. I thought maybe just maybe it’ll be okay.

I could not have been more wrong.

I remember fragments. Rest I have forgotten. No maybe I just didn’t want to remember. Someone like you- Adele. You Ruined Me- The Veronicas. Blurred Vision. Stingy tears. Hiding my face in the pillow. 8 cuts on the wrist or maybe 11 or 14, maybe less. No text from my best friend. Numbness in my body. Tears like a cascade flowing effortlessly. 

As I laid there on the cold, hard ground I learnt a lesson. A lesson that I wish I didn’t learn. A lesson like a thunderstorm​ flashing above my sad empty town of tears and broken hearts. I learnt that when they said “it won’t be hard” they didn’t mean “it’ll be easy”.. I learnt that the only shoulder that I can cry on is mine and the idea of relating my happiness with someone else’s temporary attention, lust, mood or happiness is absurd. I learnt that the only love that I need is self-love.

So this isn’t a “screw you” note or even worse “I hope you die alone” note. It’s a thank you note that says thank you for teaching me something no one else could teach. Thank you for giving me the strength to bear the pain that I used to have nightmares of. Thank you for making me a self-sufficient woman. Now I know the strongest weapon that I have is Me, Myself and I.

It’s okay, life is a tough crowd.

The Headphones Girl.

This world is full of dark and twisty, confounded occurrences. Every trial and tribulation wears the most mesmerizing disguise and walks up to us in the most soothing way possible. After befriending us it punches us right in the stomach and kicks us when we’re down.

It’s a saying.

Expecting life to be fair with you is like expecting a lion to not eat you just because you don’t eat it.

Life is never fair. It will never be. We are fully aware of the fact that we can’t fight nature and all the Godly things because we have no control over it but replying in the same coins doesn’t always work either. You don’t have to be unfair to life or choose the evil path. There’s always a plan B.

It is said if you can’t fight for yourself at least try to defend yourself. We are living in a world where people are hiding behind eachother. Some fight, some defend. The difference between fighting and defending is the same as the difference between an arrow being shot from a bow and the metal armour protecting one’s chest from being pierced by the pointed arrowhead.

Sometimes the dream is a nightmare and the monster our mum used to check for beneath the bed when we were little arrives at the door and enters the house as a friend. 

She fears these friends.

She fears the lovers who walk away when they see the dark side.

She fears this world and the monsters she’s living among.

She fears fighting the war that she knows she’s destined to lose.

So she figured there’s no point fighting. It only gets one more of the unwanted attention. She won many battles but she knows it’s the war that she will lose. So she stopped fighting and started defending.

In this teenage world where satan wears pretty clothes and Grim reaper wears red lipstick, her headphones became her armour.

The moment the music hits, everything disappears and her life becomes a movie. She keeps hoping it’s the type of movie that commences with Once upon a time and ends with and she lived happily ever after.

As the music hits, she finds herself in another place. A place where she finds state of peace. The hell fire around her suddenly disappears as the song starts painting on her imagination with the paintbrush of the lyrics and the colors of the melody. In all this she forgets that the world that is invisible to her is right there, painting an image of her, judging her and that little smile that hits the corner of her lips as Little Mix gives a shout-out to their ex. 

To the world she seems rude and antisocial but she’s just busy making friends with her delusional characters in her delusional world. In her melodious world of delusional lifestyle she can have the best of everything she ever wished for.

She seems uninterested. Yes because she’s much more interested in Ed Sheeran’s empowering voice telling her she’s beautiful than hearing her friends’ squeaky voices going on and on about that one cute guy in the class or that one queen bitch of the institute.

She seems invulnerable because her defense, her headphones form the four walls of a strong and concrete castle around her treating her like a princess in danger. She would rather be a princess of her delusional utopia than being just another unwanted casuality of this world. 

She doesn’t have to fight back because her friendly illusive friends are enough to maintain her inner satisfaction. She’s too busy in the world of her creation where Demi Lovato keeps telling her that she’s a warrior and she’ll be rising from the ground like a skyscraper.

She’s the headphones girl that this world finds rude.

She’s a survivor who’s been through a lot.

She’s a warrior who fights battles day and night.

She’s a desert that longs for only one fountain of love.

She’s The Headphones Girl.

All images credits: google.

Suicide and Regret..

She’s running as fast as she can, out of breath gasping loudly. Her thundering footsteps can be heard from half a mile away. Her hair pulled back and face as pale as the sun on a scorching noon. The tears dripping from her eyes making her vision blurrier and foggier.

She reaches home, runs upstairs and rushes into her room like a ragging storm. Slamming the door behind her she collapses on the floor and stays there for what seemed like forever. The carpet hair brushing against her left cheek while her eyes are busy in the task of pouring rain upon them. Her gaze is fixed and her eyes are not moving. If someone would see her like that they would think that she has passed out. The time bomb starts ticking in her head. She starts feeling worthless, ugly, unimportant… anything but beautiful and valuable. Her wrists start itching again for the seventh time in this week and it is only Wednesday.

As she’s struggling to get on her knees, her eyes shift to a brownish splotch on the carpet near her. She narrows her eyes to get a vivid image of whatever that spot is.

“What’s that?” she asks herself.

She crawls closer to the stain and looks at it carefully.

“Blood…” the word comes out of her mouth.

She remembers that was the place where she collapsed yesterday just like this and then she cut herself to bleed out the frustration at that very spot. It was like déjà vu. That’s what was happening to her over and over again. She had been told by people on internet that she would get better but she never felt like she was recovering or improving because she was not the one at fault it was the people surrounding her who were. She recollects the time when she got blood on the corner of her white bed sheet and had to clean the whole thing; the time Sierra sat in her lap and the freshly harmed thighs started bleeding through the band-aids and the blood caressed the inside of her favorite blue jeans to the point that it was almost visible.

“Thank God Mom didn’t see it though…” she thought.

Suddenly a recurring thought of hers visited her again. She thought her Mom wouldn’t care in fact no one would. She thought her family was better off without her. This thought had started becoming stronger after the day she talked to her mother about this.

“Get over it sweetie. It’s just hormonal and yeah you’re in your teenage. It happens to most of the girls your age. It’s common you’ll be fine.” Mother said.

“But Maa, it’s a mental illness and mental illness requires medical help. There’s something wrong with me.” She replied.

“That’s just a phase of teenage where girls do all this to get attention and honey I think you’re just craving attention because “depression is the new cool” right? Just go to your room and do your homework”

She’s brought back from the afflicting memories by the sound of her cat, Eleanor scratching her door. She opens the door and lets her in. The cat jumps to the bed and she lies beside her.

“Hey Ellie! You love me, right?” She asks stroking her soft fur.

“Right Ell?”

The cat lets out a meow.

“I love you too Eleanor” she says as her voice cracks.

“I’m living a slow painful death…” she whispers “One day I’ll be able to end it all at once instead of bleeding slowly to death everyday… ”

She stands up and looks at herself in the mirror. The image of an ugly-outside-broken-inside girl staring back at her. She walks to the washroom door and stands there for a moment and stares at Eleanor with tears in her eyes she says “Ell You’re my only friend…” as she closes the door to never open it again.

She finally was brave enough to end the throbbing pain all at once.


As the stimuli that provoked her death wrote R.I.P on her facebook timeline.

Author’s Note: When someone tells you about their condition don’t abandon them just because you don’t understand what they feel because how can the sun know what darkness feels like? You might be happy and healthy. Everyone isn’t like that. Don’t just tell them to get over it instead help them recover. It’s better to walk through hell with someone who needs you than to wander in heaven uselessly.

And my dear friends I am not promoting suicide. I want to minimize it. I’ve said it before I’ll say it again


A Letter To My Death.

Dear Death,

What is it like being feared, Dear Death? I know you are the most hated occurrence of this world. You creep up on a person like a wolf in the dark forest. You hurt like a rotten and infected wound. You leave taking our most loved possession like snatching a toy from a lonely and helpless child in the playground.  As humans we bruise ourselves again and again and leave it up to time to heal the scratches and scars but you, you damage us so much that even time, the best healer of all, doesn’t seem to be able to heal the wounds you make and we bleed to death.

I have come to know that this world is a beautiful illusion and we all are visitors staying here temporarily. We build an uncanny fondness of this illusive world and the way of life we have, oblivious of what tomorrow holds.


You wanna know why everyone fears you? Because you are inevitable.

You were there when we born. We were told that everyone has to die the moment we started understanding words. There is no escape from you. No one can cheat you. You make us realize that life is not just a game. We will never be able to start all over again. Once life starts it starts and you taught us that we certainly cannot bring ourselves back to life after our life percentage drops to 0% We only get one life and that’s it. There are no cheats like the video games where no matter how many times we get our ass kicked we get back to the mission and save lives; where we get as many shots as we want. You make us realize the harshness of reality, how we only have one shot at life. You make us realize that one day we’ll escape this illusion, either contended or not and we’ll never return; never breathe again. You will come looking for us no matter how much we hide and you’ll find us. You’re inevitable.

From the moment we are born, we begin to die.

-Janne Teller

You wanna know why everyone fears you? Because you are unpredictable.

Scientists say that an average human life span is about 60-65 years, 63 years to be exact. That’s an average only. Many young people die every day and there are lots of people above 70 who are healthy and are enjoying their lives. Even a one year old boy is not safe from your toxic ability to deprive him of his soul. Nobody is safe. Sometimes a guy with 60 broken bones survives an accident and sometimes a perfectly healthy girl dies because of eating wrong anti-biotic.  No one can predict his or her death. You come out of anywhere, anytime and in any form; a chronic disease, an accident, over-dosage, nature… anything but what we predicted. You’re unpredictable.

You wanna know why everyone fears you? Because you are ruthless.

You just come out of nowhere, tie our souls and swing them up your shoulder and leave. Leaving people there to grieve and mourn in disbelief of being deprived of their loved ones. You ruin houses. You tend to take away the only person earning in the family or the youngest and the most loved ones. You take away one’s parents just when one needs them the most. You take away one person and scar the rest of the family. You’re a ruthless and utterly terrifying reality.

Not everyone hates you.

Some people think of their lives as hell and the only possible way to escape this hell is to die? They wish of you all the time.

What they don’t know is that ancient humans thought that earth was straight because a person standing on a mountain saw the world as a plain area stretched to all lengths but they were wrong, now we know. There’s more to everything; two sides of a coin. Maybe this experience will be like out of one hell to another? How will you escape that? There’s no death of a dead person right? So the people who wish to call the Grim Reaper and those who are actually trying to arrange a meeting with him should know that grass is always greener on the other side and we will never know how many poisonous bugs live in that green grass till the right time comes.


So death I’ll not request you to pay a visit just because I’m having a rough few months but I want you to come after I pull myself together and make it through this. So that you can applaud my achievement.


All Picture Credits: Google.

He was selfish yet so selfless.

She grabs a cup from the neatly arranged cupboard and pours hot dark coffee in it and walks to the window.

It’s raining outside.

She stands there staring outside. She was never an adventurer, she was an admirer. She would rather stay cuddled up in her bed for 5 days than to go to Taylor Swift’s concert even if she got the tickets for free. She sips her coffee and tugs on a strand of hair that was resting on her shoulder. For the last few months the only world she had known was the one that was visible to her from her window. She was fully aware of the fact that one day she’ll have to walk out of the door and make friends with these creatures called humans who she had not had any encounter with for 4 months now. Of course her Mom and Dad came to visit her but she wouldn’t open the door and they would leave all the food or groceries on her doorsteps that she’d later bring in because she would rather have food brought to her than to go to food herself. She was aware that she can’t live like this forever, hiding from the world, an imperial affliction drilling a hole in her heart with her shoulder burdened by the pressure of the entire emotional trauma that the dramatic and cinematic tragedy brought to her. She always thought something like this only happens in movies.

She suddenly feels a teardrop sliding down her left cheek. She hadn’t realized the tears built up in her eyes because she was too busy looking at the rain.

“No, not again… We have already been through this Jen. No more crying over that selfish shell of a man who just… Who just…”  She whispers to herself,”…disappeared…Just like that.”

She wipes the tear and lets out a sigh, diverting her attention back to the rain. She was never the kind of person who liked rain. She had never played in rain or jumped in a puddle of water not even as a kid. She liked observing it from a distance. She absolutely hated it primarily because it reminded her of him, her childhood best friend. Her best friend since she was 3.

“Well, you can hate it as much as you want but I will always love rain.” He said.

“What’s so special about it? I mean all it does is ruin cities, roads… hair, MAKEUP! It’s a way of destruction…” She replied, frustrated.

“No, Jenna… It’s universe’s way of crying. The universe cries when this pure world gets swamped by the monstrous sins of human beings. When the number of sins exceeds the filth holding capacity of the world, it washes them away through this holy water dripping from the sky…”

She remembered every single word he had said to her. It had been 4 months today but she still saw him standing by the kitchen door trying to hold those little jittering giggles while she was trying to figure out how to make pasta and almost burnt the whole house down.

A smile hits her lips.

4 months and she’s still wearing the ring he gave her on the way back home the last time they met. Little did they know that was the last time they were ever to hold hands.

She bites her bottom lip and looks away from the window. 

She had vivid memory of every moment she had spent with him but there was only one thing, one memory that she wanted to erase from her mind and that was the day when he came back home.

Laying in front of her eyes, his body wrapped in the flag of the country, his friends in uniform surrounding him with their guns up high. Sound of his mother crying at the top of her lungs while she just stood there with her head down unable to comprehend what had happened.

It was raining that day too.

He had promised her that they’ll get married as soon as he’ll come back from war. He broke his promise.

He was selfish that he scarified his life for his country and never cared about her. He was selfish for caring about his own wish more than her dreams. His wish was finally granted and there she stood mourning in disbelief deprived of the one and only person she had ever loved.