Nobody's shit

 Every morning I have a tonne of things to do but I hardly end up finishing anything. I start with 1 and then some stupid shit sucks all of my energy or even worse, I keep listening to music for motivation but it only makes me feel depressed and shitty and lonely. Life sucks. Why the fuck is music so disappointing or is it just me!

Why does life have to feel so slow in the beginning and so fast as we approach the end?

 Behind the bushes, she rushes to her secret box with a piece of paper in one hand. The sky is clear, flowers glitter in the broad daylight. Her mother is looking for her since morning, her phone lies on her bed with 5 missed calls. Its Saturday, 6th of February, every year on this day she adds something to her box. Its been years now and the box is filled with all kinds of things, from a stone to the receipt from her favourite bakery when she was 15. She has to move to a different city this year and she cannot carry the box with her or else it will no longer be a secret. She intends to read the paper when she comes back. Its been 7 yrs since then and lately she feels dazed all the time. Its been a rough year for her and she feels she has made some terrible mistakes in her personal and professional life. Tears roll from her eyes as she sits on the balcony staring at her glittering plants. She closes her eyes and she is translated to the same place where her secret box lies. She ope...

As I peep out of the window sill on a Saturday afternoon sipping coffee the last thing I wanna do is write. I would rather watch a movie or read a book or go out with friends or do anything but fucking writing. It sucks to write, its never good enough, it isolates you from the rest of the world, leaves you stranded, makes you find patterns and overthink stuff you should not. Its a pain. The words stab your mind with all these ideas, so fucked up they can shake your soul. Thank god I am not a writer. I just cannot.  The problem is, its way too draining, I don't think I am ready for that investment.  So I left my house, far far away from a pen and paper, dived right into the real world. It was so much fun. Everything felt like a game and I kept playing. One day I got sick and I could not play. I could not do anything. I took turns on my bed cursing everything that lead me to that bed. I had to do something to get rid of this devil in my head screaming day and night. I asked him ...

In the past two decades there has been some key transformation in gender roles and the focus of parents towards empowering their girls has grown rapidly. Girls who are born during the past decade are less likely to face the prejudices common in the older generations. Technology has helped more people find solutions to bridge gap between sexes. Today's woman regardless of her age is aware of her freedom and can fight for her rights. She is modern, independent, driven and confused.  Why confused? She is confused because the world around her is a paradox.  On one hand is this woman who is full of hope, acceptance and radical ideas that she idolizes, and on the other is this woman who is left behind by our tech-savvy generation.  This woman is her mother, grandmother, aunt, house help or maybe the wife of her colleague. She was brought up in a patriarchal society where she was judged on the basis of her skin colour, body shape and everything other than her mind. She was taugh...

Evenings at the sidewalk are rarely this pleasant. She admires men dressed in yellow and pink in pursuit of the most delicate and aromatic flowers. Sinatra's one for my baby is playing near the pond by some young college boys to charm irises. The marigolds are trying to lose some petals and grow thorns in their stems like roses. Orchids and lilies mock marigolds for lacking dignity. The sidewalk is full of colours and men, courtesies to the much awaited rain. It's said that once when it didn't rain for a long time men had to resort to seeking flowers from even cacti. However she personally finds it ironical for during her encounters with men they mostly seem jeopardised by her. She finds lilies crass for they talk about feminism all day long but are always seeking validation. She senses a new cultural transformation these days wherein flowers no longer want to grow thorns.  Once upon a time, even lilies were desperate to be called roses but it was only after orchids came th...

When I was 5, I used to spend hours focusing at the window pane talking to myself, calling myself special, my mother used to tell me that mad people do that. I was always a notorious kid and knew no limits, not much has changed since childhood for I grew up thinking of this as my superpower. I was brought up in a middle class family by very ambitious parents. From childhood taking care of myself felt very foreign to me, and I always chose to challenge myself instead. Everything was going fine apart from the anxiety attacks, which became frequent during my teenage years. By then, I went through a series of inhumane events and I learnt that not everyone needs a reason to hurt someone. Day by day, I turned myself more and more into a recluse. I never had a lot of friends because I feared getting rejected by them for not being good enough. My mental disorder gained its gravity by my late teenage. I was always a sharp student, but having brought up in an environment of insane competition...