Aditi

Aditi Apr 2017

OCD

OCD is not all about remembering the freckles on her cheeks or telling her I love you repetitively
OCD is waking up at 2 in the morning after you have spent hours trying to delude yourself into thinking that your hands are clean only to end up in your washroom trying to rub your skin off.

(all because a stranger touched me on the sidewalk a month ago)

OCD is being in an abusive relationship with yourself. Your logic won't let you give in, but like a desperate lover, your OCD won't let you go. So you keep swinging, tick tock, to and fro, like the broken clock in the store room you can't get yourself to throw out because it belonged to your nana.

OCD is not finally finding a peace of moment when he looks at you but it is biting your teeth into your lips trying to hold in the cringe when he carelessly wipes his greasy hands on the napkin. "Don't complain, don't complain" you mutter to yourself as you throw a hand sanitiser his way.

(please don't leave me)

OCD is rearranging the pictures frame on the shelf for the fifteenth time a day because last time your brother interrupted you and so you might as well start again. OCD is the worry in your mum's eyes as she invites the guests to show them your room while she keeps throwing you cautious glances as someone touches your books.

(I'm sorry, ma. I can't help it)

OCD is reading the same line again and again, a part of your brain asks you why since you got it right the first time. You don't know why, but you keep doing it just to be sure. Check the door if it's locked properly before sleeping. Once, twice, thrice till it's morning already and it's time to wake up.

(another sleepless night, ******* it)

OCD is all these fuzzy voices mixed around with the signals from your brain telling you that your life will fall apart, if, just for this once, you do anything different.

Aditi Apr 2017

Musings

Sometimes I find myself getting overwhelmed,
By the intensity of fear that ripples through me,
When anyone suggests me to love anyone else,
I ask myself
Could I ever go down a path like that?

I guess, I can.
Love someone else, I mean, in some ways.
But I'll love you with all the loves,
In all the ways,
Forever and
Always.
Because most of the poems I have written
Can be broken down,
Into a simple word: love.

And love has never been a feeling to me,
It is a person,
And it's you.
And if someone finds it twisted,
I am sorry,
But I'm not going to apologise,
For the way I feel.

So, for this once,
I decide to cave into my selfishness
And hope the stars align right now,
To make a wish for us.

Because every day without you,
Is like going to a war zone,
Where I'm the only soldier,
And I still end up losing,
With my blood on my hands.

And this war will only stop,
When we have found,
The missing pieces of ourselves,
In each other.

It's too late for my poems to make sense. I'll edit it in the morning.

#long #distance #relationship

Aditi Apr 2017

A videochat.

The way you looked at me made me feel beautiful in a way I have never felt before. The kind where I could feel the sunlight seeping in from all the cracks in my skin and warming me up and I realised love is the glow on your skin when he looks up at you. I have been playing this memory all night and I can't wait to have those pair of eyes look at me that way again. Even though I won't manage an eye contact for long and trust me, every time after you go, I curse myself for not looking at you. But the moment is so intense, so fleeting. That I do what I do best when I'm unsure of something . I remove myself from the equations. But this time I did not. The silence in between was not oppressing, it was soft. The silence that says we have said all there was to be known. A silence of familiarity that comes from knowing each other for so long. But your longing eyes. Something about them make me nervous, the good nervous. Like the time I was trusted with my baby brother and I cradled him in my arms. I was so scared that I might drop him but the fear passed and I was left with this inexplicable feeling. That is the memory that came in my mind when I looked up yesterday and caught you looking at me like that.
I wanted to write about it. You know how I like to have souvenirs of all my favorite moments. But I could not..there was no metaphor I could come up with to explain the warmth I felt when your eyes held mine. I have always thought you were biased when you called me beautiful but today, I felt it too. Thank you for having that look on your eyes that made me believe the words I have been hearing for so long.

Thank you. You never once told me how I looked pretty and I'm so thankful for that because your eyes told me all there was to be known. Your thoughts, finally set free. "She is beautiful, and she is all mine

Aditi Apr 2017

A date with sky

I went to the terrace and looked up,
The sky blushed and tore itself open.
I stood close to the edge,
To get a better view of the town,
It was the playfulness of the wind,
That finally took away my breath.

It was in the silence,
That I heard the branches talk to the wind,
And saw the leaves, swaying gently,
To the music the sky sang for the earth.

I closed my eyes,
To take in the smell,
To hang these pictures,
On the walls of my brain.
So that I could revisit this lane of memory,
Whenever it gets a little lonely,
So that I could have a little of symphony,
In my otherwise tuneless journey

I looked at the horizon,
And saw the sun wave a good bye,
The sky bled, hoping it could get it to stay.
The sun, in turn, left a million stars,
As a promise and as a reminder, that it would return.

With a reluctance will,
I saw the sun,
Blend into the sky,
Splitting itself, into pretty colors,
Maybe that's why, the sky can do this every day,
It knows that even when the sun is gone,
It remains a part of herself.

I pondered for a minute, how nice it would be to made up of the sunsets. A hopeful kind of goodbye.

I looked up at the sky, and saw the moon wink at me,
Despite myself, I felt a smile tugging on my lips.
It was a moment or an hr later
When the moon told me, it's not conscious of the scars on its face,
That they're beyond self pity.
(take it people, moon does not give a **** about your idea of beauty. *******)

It was with a much better spirit, that I left the terrace,
With a cheer in my footsteps and a new poem on my finger tips.

Aditi Apr 2017

Get this straight.

silently whispers

You're not the allegation of any guy who blames you for leading him on because you have two fatty sacs on your chest.

silently whispers

Your tears don't absolve you of your masculinity, nor your gentleness is something to mock about. Don't let anyone tell you any different.

silently whispers

You are not the lustful touches they give, or the hungry stares. If a man finds you ***** after he has touched you, tell him to look at his own hand.

silently whispers

You're not entitled to give it to someone, or enjoy what has been forced upon you, cause it is a sick imagination of someone else. Your gender does not determine if you're a victim or the culprit, deserving the punishment.

Please don't ever think you're supposed to sit still when someone's hand over stays their welcome, and stray to other places, where they were not invited because everyone says your gender Is supposed to enjoy any ****** act.

silently whispers*
You're not the intentions or the ***** implications of someone who compliments you, neither you accept their unsaid offer when you say thank you.

And when you talk of things like that, you're not supposed to stagger, when they speak out loud-" but I have never done that". Not you, maybe, buy definitely someone else.

speaks out loud
A crime does not stop because you refuse to participate in it, or if you decide to close your eyes. You can't dismiss a problem because you never had it happen to you.
It's not a girl or a boy, who is sexually abused.
It's a person.
Please, proceed onwards after you have this understood

Sexism works both ways

#sexism #npmimportant

Aditi Apr 2017

Untitled

And when they come for me, they'll find a book titled all the ways I felt but was not supposed to.
I want you to cremate the book with me.

The world is strange, the people are stranger,
Everyone has a notion of how things should be,
And everyone knows how it should not
But maybe some things just are,
The sun rises, and it sets on its own accord
Maybe the way we need to be loved, is not within our control.

And how hard I tried to control my desires
But how do you escape what is trapped beneath your skin

People are strange, feelings are stranger,
I have spent my whole life trying not to need,
Until I stumbled upon you,
And I hope you understand it's not easy
To tear myself open for you to see,
In all the few glories I have had, and in my all vulnerabilities

And how hard I tried to not let my coldness touch you,
While trying to remain unaffected by your warmth.

Pls, don't let these I love yous become the saddest words I uttered.

Aditi Mar 2017

When feelings take over

I can feel a poem rising at the tip of my fingers tonight. I can feel them revolting, buzzing with anger; demanding to be heard.
And so I tie my hair back, pick up my pen, ever the docile servant to my emotions.
What do you wanna talk about, I ask them?
The buzzing stopped short, for the first time with some hesitancy, they answer we don't know.
And so we sat in companionable silence, with pen held. A hundred fluttering thoughts, but none I can connect to form a poem.
Write down, they say, write what we have always wanted to say, and so I let my emotions glide my fingers over the page, scribbling my brain out of the story, letting heart play to its fullest content.
And so heart wrote the softest words,
And in silence my brain slept.