If I had one wish in my life, I’d wish that I could stay and feel this way forever. Content and weightless with no worries or sorrows of the past. No confusion regarding life and what I look like or what I say. It’s right then that I realise just how lonely and discontent I am. How empty I feel even though I am a bundle of emotions.
I have never lived !
Never loved !
Never done anything worthwhile in life !

He was sitting beside me in metro.
Although it was a ladies reserved seat.
He was looking at me vigorously.
He peeped at my phone, at my book.
There were too many empty seats and I wanted to change my seat.
But for some reason, I couldn’t stand up.
Then something happened.
He touched my leg, and felt me.
I was in utter shock.
I quickly stood up, regaining my posture and my mind was finally off the place it was earlier.
I slapped him hard and he looked at me like he wanted to beat me all over.
The anger on his face scared me for a second.
But then I slapped him again and kicked him on his shin.
He bent down towards my feet and this attracted a mob.
I clicked his picture and when the next stop came, I handed him to the security guard.
I don’t know where I got the courage to do this cause I am not this dominant.
But this incident awakened me.

Have you ever eaten a chocolate dipped in a tub of spices !
It tastes sweet at first, but then you realise it’s just not what you thought it was. It burned and it hurt.
It bruised my heart.
That’s how I felt when my boyfriend ****** me thrice and not once did it happen with my permission.
And we have been going out for one year and four months.
I never realised those signs, the forced kissing, the changing of topics to always a *** conversation.
Him always trying to touch me.
But that day, he lost his patience which was saving me till now.
I kicked at his *****.
I kicked his arms away.
But he was too strong.
His hold on me was not letting me even move myself. Kicking took too much.
And the irony was, his body used to be my temple.
When he used to take me in his hold, I used to squeak from the excitement of it all.
I used to wet my lips on seeing his bulging muscles.
But now, his arms around me, holding me hostage, feels like a suffocating experience.
I wanted to get away from him, but I was numb.
I was frozen all away, not with fear, but for feeling nothing.
After a few minutes of kicking, all I feel is the emptiness.
His breaths on my neck.
The stench of his sweat disturbs me, yet I am silent.
And after he ***** me, he looks at me like an animal looking at his food and says, “I’ll be back.”
Those three words, he uttered were the scariest of all.
The thought of him ******* me over was disgusting, but the thought of him coming back and ******* me again scared me out of my wits.
So, like every other harassed woman, I am running away, from him, from truth.
Cause after all this, I have not just lost faith, or myself, but I have lost hope, the one thing, which would have kept me running. ©anothergirlwithfantasies

21 was his age when we first met
21 was the date when we sat back but our lips met
21 was his birthday date, when I brought him a bundle of chocolates
21 was his jersey number
21 was his flat number
21 was his phone number’s middle digits
21 was his lucky number

21 was my age when he left me broken
21 was the date when I saw him uniting his lips with my bestfriend
21 was the time when I cried of losing two most important people in my life
21 was the number of times I cried for him
21 was the day of the month when he turned me down in public rudely
21 was the number of things he returned to me
21 was my unlucky number

©anothergirlwithfantasies

There was a time when you used to be my deity
Your feet were my home
Your satisfaction was my ******.

There is this time now when your prayers start with mine
My home is your house
My ****** is your duty.

©anothergirlwithfantasies

blue eyes
green hair
pink shoes
red pants
orange shirt
white tie
He was not what you would call simple.
He in his way was colours all around.
©anothergirlwithfantasies

Your innocence
is wrapped up
in the blanket of
maturity.
Your kiddish behaviour
is embedded
in a cocoon of
society
and it’s
measures.
Your happiness
is locked away
by yourself
in a tin box
whose key
is lost forever.

©anothergirlwithfantasies