Remembering my Late Best Friend

It was a very cold December night when I received a news that shattered me into so many pieces that even after six years of trying to put myself together piece by piece I still don’t feel whole.

I have a vivid memory of that day. I can still hear my sister telling me that my best friend passed away. I remember gasping for air but still not being able to breathe. I still remember the coldness from the bathroom floor creeping up into my bones as I tried to sleep there instead of my bed because my room smelled like him. I wanted to get away from him, his memories and his scent because for some reason despite dying he was still there. I remember my family telling me that you don’t die with the dead. But I think I died a little that day.

I have always been proficient in writing but when it comes to him I struggle to formulate sentences that can encompass the grief I feel every time he crosses my mind. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t looked for him in the strangers around me, I still look out the window while driving past our old school’s playground where we had so many fights over volley ball, I still listen to his favorite songs religiously and I still watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S and try to recall the parts that used to make him laugh. I miss him so much.

I remember being so angry after he left. I was just so angry at him for choosing to walk through the light over me and at myself for not telling him what he really meant to me. For not telling him that he was actually a good singer, that he actually had a great shoe collection and that when I scrunched my nose in resentment after he booped it it was an act because I secretly liked it.

Although I get better and stronger everyday he still lives somewhere in the back of my mind. I just hope whoever reads this learns that it is important to hold your loved ones close. Tell them you love them today and everyday.


I’m Sorry for Leading You on

Dear stranger that I used to know,

When I met you, I possessed these blue birds of my thoughts residing in the cage of my mind, you came and gave those birds a home in your chest.

We became friends;

You loved everything that I despised about myself and you convinced me that I was beautiful even when I was a disaster.

You shooed away the demons of my past that used to haunt me and constructed a hell for them within you so they don’t  bother me anymore.

You broke down the walls that I had built between me and the world and my lonely castle once again started echoing with the sound of laughter.

We were more than friends but;

My I love yous started getting replaced by you’re my best friend

I started terming your love as an obsession.

I started coming up with reasons not to share the same space as you.

I begin to change paths when I saw you coming my way.

I drove you away.

We were strangers again.

I’m sorry for making you fall in love with me.

I’m sorry for whispering I love yous to keep you shackled in the chains of my dungeon

I’m sorry for resting my head on your shoulder when you read me Classical Tragic Plays

I’m sorry for using you as a temporary cure to all the bruises someone else caused me

I’m sorry for taking you love for granted and using you as a rebound

I’m sorry for lying to you through these lip gloss smiles of mine.

I’m sorry for leading you on and backing up.

I’m sorry for blaming you for being left alone in the end.

With regrets,

Somebody you wish to forget


My History with Depression & Anxiety

I write to let go; hence, I’m writing my painful journey to let go of the pain that has been crushing me since I was 12.

As I got really positive feedback from you guys in response to my last post; So, here it is, my story unfiltered… No beautifying fragments, no strong vocabulary, no artificiality…

I remember when I was in 3rd grade I had to change schools. I went from one of the smaller, less popular schools to the most popular one in the city. Everyone was so rude and so self-absorbed making me feel so inferior. I think this is where everything started going wrong. Anyway, being the kind of person that I am I made my place in that school, soon I was also one of the popular students and everything was fine… till it wasn’t.

I remember my first suicide attempt it was in 6th grade, I was only 12  y/o … I’m not sure how I was triggered or how long I was this messed up I just remember kissing my little brother thinking it would be the last time I’ll see him but fortunately it wasn’t. My second suicide attempt was in 8th grade, to be honest I shouldn’t call these “suicide attempts” I simply thought that  I was committing suicide but the things that I was over-dozing were not as poisonous as my parents bragged about them being. Anyway, from my second attempt I accidentally developed a practice of self-harm which up to this day remains.

I remember in the beginning all I thought of it was a cathartic practice, later on I watched a documentary about self-harm and I realized it wasn’t actually good. Even my religion was against all sorts of self-harm. Now I was living in guilt, thinking that I was sinning and making myself vulnerable to all sorts of skin infections and diseases but I just couldn’t stop; I was just so used to cutting myself every two weeks.

Other than cutting I used to;

Scratch my skin, cut the tips of my hair, hold pointy or sharp things in my hands and pressed them until I couldn’t bear the pain.

It wasn’t until I was 16 y/o that I finally met someone who helped me get through this tough time. My rate of self-harm from twice a month reduced to twice a year. I was happy about it but you know like everything in the world, human relationships and friendships also come to an end, and I went back to that dark place where I suffered from insomnia, depression and very occasional anxiety. That’s when I first started taking Xanax without a proper prescription. I didn’t know the proper dose I was supposed to take so I started with a 20 mg pill (which is too much, now I know) it helped me sleep but later I increased that dose to two pills and I even took three pills. It was about time I realized I was getting addicted to it and it took me almost two months to get off that addiction by lowering my dose by half pill every week.

This was during the time I was also applying for a medical college; I was one of the A+ students so my parents, teachers and classmates were expecting me to easily make it in a medical school. Flash-forward: I tried twice and still couldn’t make it. This again led me to drown even more into the well of self-pity. Even average students who studied for two years in pre-medical made it in the med-school and I didn’t even make it in three years. My family kept reminding me how I was a failure and seeing my friends go on and live their lives at fullest was agonizing. I wanted to be happy for them, and I was but I was just too sad for myself.

I decided to join a university and pursue BS-honors with English as my major as I was good in literature.

4th February, 2017 =My birthday

The worst birthday ever! I got into a fight with both of my uncles and I wasn’t ready to bow down this time in front of their egos so I stood 6 feet tall and told them to Fuck off. They did leave me alone but my relationship with my dad got pretty messed up.

5th February, 2017

I started university with still swollen eyes, bloody wrists and insecure heart. My father didn’t call me for 4 months and that made my state even worse that I had to go to student counselor three times a week. When she wasn’t able to help me she sent me up to the student therapist. I only took two sessions with her and I was like “I’m out!”

First semester was okay because I was staying with friends that were from my hometown but later I got into the university dorm and I was left alone again.. All alone with a blade, judgmental eyes, an aching heart and no will to live. At least not until I went to the university doctor, who happened to be a professional psychotherapist, to get my limb tremors checked.

There I made a friend and she made a client.

This was getting too long so I decided to divide it into two updates. This is the dark part, bright part is yet to be published. Thanks for the support guys. ❤


I never wanted to be a writer and I still don’t find myself capable of becoming one. WordPress is a platform where most of the users are struggling everyday and their course of recovery isn’t linear. So, I joined WordPress to read about those struggles and learn how people overcome these problems everyday. I wanted  hope and a reason to not give up.

Writing helped in the beginning but eventually I started drifting away from it.This turned out to be a bad idea because writing my diary and occasional blogs was somewhat cathartic and therapeutic. Now that I wasn’t doing that it caused my anxiety to build up.

Recently my mental health started deteriorating so rapidly that I immediately went back to the state of depression that I thought I had overcome about 2 years ago. So I thought maybe I should return and write about it. Maybe I can rekindle the bond of empathy that I had with various friends that I made here. So in my next post I probably will give a proper update on my anxiety issue and sessions with my psychotherapist. Maybe someone will be able to relate and that’ll make me feel so much better because the best part of WordPress is knowing that I’m not alone there is at least one person who feels the same and kind of understands what I’m going through.


I Give Up

Growing up while witnessing affliction every day either live or through the T.V screen , I developed a vision to change the world, to obliterate the sufferings and to spread felicity. I thought if I could feel someone else’s pain I would feel their happiness too. So I set out on a journey to change the world and make it a better place.

In the book, The One Who Walk Away From Omelas the writer has given a description of a euphoric place Omelas where everything is perfect and everyone is happy but this happiness requires a sacrifice. That sacrifice is a little child. Suffering of a little child trapped under that town resulted in the happiness of the whole population.

If I had a choice I’d be that child. Infact I tried to be that child but my suffering remain mine and it made nothing better. After trying and failing in my ambition for years now I’m looking for signs from God to tell me not to give up but I see no signs. The only thing that I see, trapped at the bottom of a dark deep ditch people call failure, is the moon and my failed ambition to change the world staring back at me. Where are the signs? I see no signs.

So tonight I’ll just sit here and pretend everything is fine even if it’s not. I know it’s not. I’ll turn off the news channels, I’ll blind myself to this world where children are crying, women are screaming and soldiers are dying every second. I’ll pretend everything is fine because I can’t change anything. I tried everything in my power to lessen the sufferings but I didn’t succeed. So I’ll just sit on the cold hard ground with my eyes closed, feeling the cold embrace of my own hands against my waist and I’ll pretend I never wanted to change the world. I’ll try to forget my war against the world. I’ll pretend I never started one.
I give up on you, Oh world.

I give up on you and your people.

I give up.

Outgrowing Myself.

Remember that article of clothing  your mom bought for you when you were a kid that you fell in love with? Whether you over-wore it or under-wore it eventually that inevitable day arrived when you outgrew it.

In a book that I read recently the author talked about outgrowing her childhood best friend. You know how the one you thought was your partner in crime and your soulmate turns into a stranger, an acquaintance or a foe. I could relate to it more than I wanted to but after pondering upon this I realized I didn’t outgrow them, I outgrew myself.

In my initial teenage, I was a stereotypical, attention seeking girl with social circle bigger than an Indian family; oh the number of followers and likes were always booming. I posed to be someone I wasn’t, chasing trends, seeking approval from friends ( who were also fake), going to extreme levels to improve my dressing, acting like a rich kid with an adventurous life on social sites and longing to meet the modern standards of life.

In the blink of an eye, I have transformed into something new, something I like to call the “real” me. I have freed myself from the pressure to be perfect now that I’ve outgrown my younger self.
If my 16 year old self could see me she’d be stunned and probably would call me a 49 years old, boring cat-lady because this real me is everything that my younger self wasn’t.
I can go outside without feeling the need to look like a preposterous ramp walking model. 99 likes on a selfie don’t make me feel like I’m a displeasing embodiment of ugliness walking on  Earth and 100+ likes don’t make me feel the opposite. Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner aren’t the standards of beauty for me. My social circle is smaller than the keyhole in my  cupboard. Now I set my own bars and I like them low and authentically achievable.  “What will people say?” is the last thing on my mind.

Maturity or ignorance? I’m not sure what this is but I’m stronger than ever.

Thoughts After My Near Death Experience. (Drowning)

Dear Stranger Who Once Claimed To Love me,

Two days back I almost drowned in the fast rushing water along with half of my family. As two days have passed and my bruised and afflicted body has overcome the state of petrification, vague thoughts have become quite vivid. You know the worst and best part of it was that if I had died I would’ve died trying to save the people I love. I’m proud of myself for being alive and I would’ve been proud if I had died because I would’ve died for “love”.

48 hours after that incident the ruthless rain with thunder storm accompaniment outside my window has forced me to think about you.

It afflicts my tormented soul to think that..

... I would’ve died in the blues and you would’ve stayed alive oblivious of the burns, scars and pain you caused me every single day after you decided to pack your things and depart from my life without giving me any sort of justification. Was I not even worth saying goodbye to?

…I would’ve died without showing you the holes you made in my heart that nothing in the world can refill…

…oh and how my eyes have cried for nights flooding my own room with the memories of your whispers feeding my soul those sweet beautiful lies that my ears longed to hear…

.. how the smell of your body lingering through every corner of my house hits me like a hammer on my naive heart breaking it into thousands and thousands of pieces everytime I gasp for air..

.. how many a days I drowned myself in the shattered pieces of the promises you made and broke without a hint of guilt…

… I would’ve died and you would’ve remained oblivious of the suffering that you caused me…

..  but the truth is that you already know of the suffering you just don’t care. This thought gave me pause or at least a lash of sentimental static that I can’t quite elaborate in words right now.. alive or not either way love would’ve been the death of me…

Anyway the good part is that I made it out alive. You know when I was pulled out of water to the shore gasping out loud resting my body on a huge rock I knew this wasn’t just an ordinary accident. I knew God had given me and my family another chance and an another life.

I don’t know what I’ll do in this second life of mine but I’m pretty sure you don’t belong in this one so I just wrote this to tell you that when I was struggling in the gushing water a part of me drowned and that’s the part that onced longed for you.

Good bye.

 Never going near water ever again.

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.

Break ups are tough but they make you stronger.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger..”

I know it’s tough being in a relationship with someone for a month, a year or more only to see it vanish. Like *poof* the love is gone.. where did it go? where did it go?

Oh, who the hell cares where did it go? I mean let’s consider today’s relationships like a beautiful flower..

You love it so much that you end up plucking it and taking it home. As soon as you reach home it dies. So you just throw it in the dustbin.

They leave you when they get bored of your beauty right? You feel unimportant and abandoned.

You’re not unimportant.

A note that i wrote when I got in this situation for the first time:

He’s gone. It’s over. You’ve left that place, a dungeon near his beating heart. You were a wolf trapped in the darkest corner of that big lonely castle. He was the dark lonely castle and every now and then his chambers were filled with your painful howls. His walls as concrete as walls are; never flinched; never felt pity for you. He had you there because your howls filled the void of loneliness that was present in the very literal heart of that castle. He was fond of you, he actually liked you enough to insist you to stay even when you had one foot outside the door. But when you stayed there you saw nothing different. His walls were as concrete as they always had been.

You know it that the door of his castle will forever remain open for you because it’ll never find a (she-)wolf like you.

You’re strong now.


Picture credits: Google.

I know this might seem hard at first but believe me.. With every passing minute you will feel better and better. The pain will start to fade like a cold ice melting once placed in sunlight, like a piece of butter melting over a stove..

First step is the hardest. Later, it’s all like the first step. Repeating it again and again.

Of course after being in a relationship going back to single life might seem tough but take it this way:

trapped wolf is finally free.. and after living in isolation for so long he/she now has turned into a lone-wolf. This is the modern world. Wolves don’t travel in packs anymore..

You finally came out of the darkness and into the moonlight. To your surprise the moon is nearest to its full at this very moment. So you’re letting out a howl at the moon to remind yourself that the pearl of white shinning light hanging in the distant diamond sky is something to be cherished. So you stand in the moonlight shaking off your fur to get off all the darkness you accumulated from the castle. You let out another howl to inform your castle  “I’m no longer a slave to your will. I don’t wanna be one of the wolves from the pack. I wanna be a lone wolf”

A lone-wolf I shall be.


Picture credits: Google.


As an advice don’t be too fast in moving on to someone new.. enjoy the single life for a change and move to someone when you’re actually ready and find someone worthy of you.