We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

I look up at my phone like every morning.

Instagram filled with fabrication of documented lies or I like to believe it that way. I just linger around the idea of using the app day planner but I know what will happen through the day.

I have been living almost the same day everyday since past few years. Which my mum gladly likes to refer as “running out of time” phone blows up with texts from my folks for meeting up as usual.

I find my shoes, get my jacket and try to get some money from mum and make my way out. My mum stops me to blame me for everything under the sun but lends me what I need for a typical summer day of my life.


Summer days are longer and well summery.
Must be the reason why we feel so warm, youthful, lethargic and timeless even though we are younger as a minute.

We don’t need any policies, no out dated stereotypical rules. We know we are the coolest.

Getting tipsy, running around on summer nights, playing stupid dare games.
We roam around the roads where the houses don’t change; we watch each other tirelessly trying to grow up and we effortlessly fail, we mock at that because it’s humorous.

It must be humorous otherwise the alternative would be something else related with guilt of failure.

Eyes get rolled when people try to shove mannerisms down our throat. They think we dumb? We don’t know that? Everyone does. We just choose to be diva queen in tears who just don’t care.

Eyes study the floor when they boast about their studies of business and human bodies. Makes us wonder why people talk so much!

Eyes won’t stop bashing skulls but still they don’t quit their blathers.
They and we talk like there is actually something to say but the truth is we are just killing time.
Cause we are never done throwing useless words at each other. Words summed up to sentences that never really hits but ends up with burned throats.

I am glad that we stayed to feel timeless, hopeless and useless rebels. We want this summer to end and never end at the same time.

I return with the same old feet and shoes, with jacket swinging in my hand. I try to slip as quietly as possible but the booze won’t let me.

Mum’s voice rings, “who’s over there?” A minute or so flies she is standing right in front of me hands crossed against her chest with a frown blended with anger. I know that look on her face; I see it everyday on every summer night. I don’t like being choked by my mother’s love. So I try and ignore.

She just shakes her head in disbelief and walks away murmuring something about responsibilities, growing up and being tired.

I produce a short giggle moreover a yelp.
I am tired of myself too.
I am Tired of people, Tired of life, and Tired of expectations.

So, I decide to disappear because I have to breathe for another summer day of my life. A year long summer to survive. I try to disappear into my dark room staring the darker ceiling.

We are hollow. But we believe we are brave.

(listen to lorde’s 400 lux)



You are like my wine stained shirt that I can not, should not wear.

You are like my wine stained shirt that I can not, should not wear.

I know better at this point.I must, because I  cannot go through all this. Not again. Not with you.

You are the high tides of clear blue water which never stays constant nor that it should. Otherwise that would be unnatural.

Yet somewhere inside me I have this slightest bit of tendency towards incase. Incase you notice the change, incase you want to break the natural, because I don’t have no guts to do it.

Lucky ones are only held more than just a friend.

I just happen to fall under the unlucky.

An unlucky who wishes you would just consider the million reasons I give you everyday to just acknowledge the incase, the alternative of being a still blue water; staying in, holding on, canoodling with the unlucky because months and months of back and forth just cuts more deep.

You see that is a rare case i.e. unlucky turning into the lucky ones.

A rare case that tears up my expectations, manipulates my decisions, makes me fall on my knees. A rare case that makes me an unlucky fool pondering over a smile, a touch hoping it meant more than it is supposed to. Most of all it is frustrating to see myself standing back where I always stood before.

It is like I have lost the ability of being mobile, lost the ability of being heard as my lungs are filled with water and my screams are muffled under water.

I know you are happy now with your lucky man and last thing you would want is me barging into the places where I am not expected.

So, I decide to stay out because I know you will refuse to stay in.

Your attention is all I want but not like this. I want us to cross that delicate line of friend zone but isn’t possible when you patch up suddenly with someone with whom you have a relationship younger as a minute.

Then it isn’t even your fault. How can you answer something I never asked?

Eventually, I will have to let it all go. But you are like my favorite wine stained shirt which can neither be seen going to waste nor can be worn. 

This was my twisted love on the straight pathway built out of friendzone.


Man enough?

Man enough?

(Join us to normalize modern masculinity. Let’s just get rid of these gender stereotypes.)

Maybe I was around 5 years old. My daddy had bought me a new 4 wheeler pedal bike. I was able to learn it as quick as possible and then after few weeks my dad got rid of the small wheels at the back of my ride. 

I was terrified with this modification. I felt that it was somehow wrong but my dad insisted it wasn’t. 

So, I did as he told. I sat on my cycle with out my deepest consent and I looked up at him with a frown of disbelief.

He returned the warmest smile and said, “Go on I will be grabbing right back at your seat” I said, “I can’t do it!” and all I heard was “just pedal.” So, I pedaled as slow as I could but my heart was beating faster than anything. 

I was constantly screaming “Don’t let go yet! I am not ready” But little did I know my dad wasn’t behind me. When realization hit me hard I lost my balance and fell down.
I could feel my tears running down the top of my nose. It felt a bit tingly but in a weird way. From distant I see my dad running towards me with a little box. I knew that box had a brown liquid which would give my wound a burning sensation. I never understood why my parents would give me box of pain instead of box of healing. 

My dad came up to me with that “I got it all under control” look. He wore his spectacles like he wears before doing any important thing and he started cleaning my wound with the brown liquid. My agitation increased and I probably cried louder but my dad said, “Don’t cry. This will just take a minute! You are big boy right? High five, High five me. Say you’re a man: ‘I’m a man!’” 

At the end of the dressing session I was whimpering, with screwed up face flashing anger, gritting my teeth and pounding my chest, barking “I’m a man”

We get that society has pressurized women to look and act in a certain way for centuries. But how many of us has ever realized that men are also expected to look and act in a certain manner? It is depressing as a man to verify and re-verify masculinity, our own identity.

 It is funny how a set of unwritten rules have affected us this much. The responsibilities with bunch of pros and cons are deep rooted in people’s mind. We are expected to be that young angry men with the sportsmanship on the top. There is a liability for men to be presented in a certain ways otherwise they are assumed as un-masculine by all adolescents, pre-adolescents and even adults sometimes.

So, I want to talk about how people and we men ourselves throw this subject under a rug just because we are too ashamed to deal with this.

With women lashing out on banners like, “RISE OF WOMEN” “BETTER THAN MEN” is only widening the gender gap between men and women. I guess this is the time where women should give some space, cut some slack. Just enough with “he is men” and “she is women” I guess this is the high time for young people to be relevant with the modern masculinity, Knowledge of equality that should be passed down to our upcoming generation.

If women are encouraged with being emotionally honest than men should be also encouraged equally to recognize and speak about the spiritual damage they are suffering from years and years. With the media projecting the same heroic stereotypes over and over again. 

We are obliged to form an image of an ideal man that says in a bold letter, “WE ARE MEN WE DON’T FEEL ANYTHING!” Examples of these destructive behaviors range from the socially approved, such as workaholism, to the criminally punishable, such as drug addiction and violence. Men are twice as likely as women to suffer from rage disorders.

Society has bunch of unattainable and unobtainable standard in store for us. This is our time to get past through the out dated ideas of definition of “real man”. Real man is someone who accepts his flaws. Listens to others and let himself speak out his emotions. We just need to stop searching stereotypes in men rather we need to live and let live. Stop slaughtering of young men in the name of proving their own identity.

Everything under the sun frightens me.

Everything under the sun frightens me.

Truth runs wild, vast as ocean, greater than the constellation, Truth runs wild deep as life, pure as water fall and fierce as forest fire.

Truth runs wild and free. 

The truth that I only have. My truth…..

I  was walking along the streets, I dont remember what time it was but I knew it was dark. I found myself heading towards the jog spot. Why was I here? I made advances to my so called destination, I could feel and listen the crunches as I walked over those fallen leaves and twigs. 

The neighborhood was awkwardly silent . I imagined aliens abducting everyone overnight and shook my head in disbelief of my childish thoughts. 

Afterall it was normal, the silence! What would I expect to see at this hour anyway but somehow I knew the silence was hurtful rather than peaceful.

 I felt this sudden urgency inside me. I felt the silence was trying to swallow me. I tried to get away from this. I wanted to scream, Just scream any form of words but I found myself struggling to choose the words. I asked myself the most queer question, “What would I scream?” This question just intruiged my urgency even more. I felt like the faceless monster of silence trying to grip  me.

 As my adrenalin accelerated I reacted by running. My footsteps thumped over those fallen leaves and twigs bringing distruption in their initial position I guess. It was still dark and afterall everything was just merely a guess! As I advanced my speed the surrounding around me oddly enough managed to be more darker and it eventually ended up being pitch black.

 I engulfed huge smoulders of air into my lungs as if someone has blocked my trachea but I still didn’t dare to stop nor look back. I ran faster, I ran till my feets were numb. 

Suddenly, I stopped. I stopped running and fell on my knees almost like surrending. I wasn’t consious anymore, I was panting constantly, reaching out for air. 

I felt a shot of pain inside me. The pain wasn’t a sudden one. It was just like it’s been there the whole time, it was me who failed to realize. I felt like someone was pinning on me or or a heavy weight was on my chest. I wanted it off me so badly. 

I struggled to reach out to something but I failed, I tore open my jacket hoping for some relief. I wanted to scream again but this time I felt drops of water dripping on my hands wetting my cheeks. those muffled screams managed to come in the form of tears. In no time I was brusting into tears and wailing like a blithering idiot.”

After math
 The dark hour refers to the upcoming time in my life and the silence monster is the responsibilities that come along as the age of innocence strips off.

I feel numb. I see my life, my plans crashing down because of only and only one reason. They are non existent. They dont exist because half of the time my mind is juggling between hope of possibilities which are often shattered by the harsh slap of reality. 

Reality hurts.

They say, “The truth behind the life I want is unreal But  the life that I tend to want is real.”

Isn’t easy as it seems. Isn’t as worthy to jeopardise everything but breathing yet stoping to live isn’t easy either.

Walls of responsibility can’t be teared down, It can escaped though. But isn’t esacaping an act of cowardice.

So, I am trying to search my truth in the wild. Trying make peace with it,with life because it is all I have, all I need, and all I can do.

“Pack yourself a toothbrush dear
Pack yourself a favorite blouse
Take a withdrawal slip, take all of your savings out
Cause if we don’t leave this town
We might never make it out
I was not born to drown, baby come on”

Confession to my confetti

Confession to my confetti


“I have italicized my favorite lines from this blog :)” – lalahang

Its 10:45 pm over here and all of these people chattering in my sitting room about their New Year resolutions got me thinking about the fact that it’s been almost a year now since we first met with some lame flirtation technique bored out of me during my vacations.

So, my new year’s resolution is not to make you my security blanket to wrap around whenever things get a little bit intense on my real life.

Not anymore because my real life composes with you.

I guess I was lonely back then. I was in a very queer phase of my life. I was turning 17 the adulthood-ness was being understood but not making sense which was highly agitating me.
It was so selfish of me to rant about me, me and me all the time while you just listened to me patiently. Honestly, all I wanted was ears that would genuinely listen to my affections, boasts, achievements, goals, regrets and sexual jokes because I was numb for a long long time. But you are so much more than listening ears to me. Your patience and solicitousness tore down all the walls that were stopping me from feeling all the kinds of good shit and bad shit.
Felt like I was 14 again with a jolt in my heart covered with fresh passion. I wasn’t looking at those happy people and pretending to be one of them.

Because I truly was happy.

I know it is sooo weird to still look up to you and expect you to relate to my stupid mood swings and emotional roller coaster but I guess I have a tendency of finding my way to you some how.

I have never had such a great feeling of gratitude for anyone in a long time and I guess we are at the point of our friendship (friends zone excluded) whatever-ish where we just have stopped to expect gibberish stereotypical crush stuffs. No wait re-phrase it is more over like, “where I just have stopped to expect…………”

The thing I am tryna say here is that you are the person that ignites that fire inside me and yet I still have to decide how the hell I am labeling this kind of feeling.

Spoiler alert: No it isn’t love! LOL so don’t scream or.. or run away.

But I guess this is turning into something better than just some stupid basic relationship. I mean I don’t know about you but I definitely am sure I really really do like you and eerrmmm and if you would have liked me back than we could have had a small quiet world of ours! But it is not the truth. Even if it would have been the truth than we had to kneel down against the long distance monster and things would have been messier.

Let’s just say I expect everything yet nothing from you. It is just indescribable in terms of words. I guess you just need to know that you have been soo unconventionally good to me. You didn’t run away from my queerness, you dealt with my unrealistic ego, you kept hanging out with me because you exactly knew my social life was similar to kylie’s lip fulfilled from outside but fake ass from inside.

I don’t usually say this but “I miss you so much” and I know I can do nothing about it because I simply cannot. There is no specific reason for my disability and I don’t want to grasp on the straw of any false hope so I just try to just let it go sometimes, well most of the times and I am frustrated with the amount of failures.

No, I don’t want a committed relationship with you but all I want from you is to look me in the eye and say me that you like me like I like you! Damn that sounds soo fucked up tho! I feel like I am caught up in a tornado because at the end of the day I go to sleep with out any conclusions on my hand which is the worst feeling of all! But then again

Do I even want conclusions?

“All I ask is
If this is my last night with you
Hold me like I am more than just a friend
Give me a memory I can use
Take me by the hand while we do
What lovers do”

Unquestionable answers

Unquestionable answers

Dear hope,

Why do I keep myself in delusion? Why am I letting you win over me?

I won’t deny the fact that you make me insanely happy even though you have constantly bruised me, tore me apart but at the end of the day I find myself standing by your side just for that one fleeting moment of ecstasy.

You say that your happiness is my happiness. But do I really believe in you? You always tend to be that optimistic ray of sunlight that can turn a deserted road into road side buffet party with two rainbows in the sky. You always manage to see the light that’s been trying so hard to be seen underneath all the darkness surrounds me.

So, you show me an open door; Put a band aid on my wound.                                                       Eventually, things just start to get a little bit better!

You slam the door on my face and the realization hits me hard that the band aid was never mine to stick with me.

It’s funny how people shatter our hopes and we shatter theirs in complete absence of our deepest consent. We all know the truth that it wasn’t done on purpose but the irony is, it hurts like it was.

Dear Hope, you are the work of exhaustion and I am just done with you. I have realized no matter how alone I am you just don’t care.

And Dear Hope, I really do hope that you won’t ask me to have faith because every time I do so I am dragged again back down to the point of zero. This crushes my heart by itself a little bit and I don’t how many pieces I have left.

So, I am not giving up on working on myself less lonely. It is something that I’ve always done and I will always do. But dear Hope don’t ask me to hold on to you because hope hurts and I don’t wanna hurt anymore.

Yours sincerely,



“I’m giving it my all                                    

 But I’m not the guy you’re taking home          

                 I keep dancing on my own”

Body Say

Body Say

“Let’s not put a label on it
Let’s keep it fun
We don’t put a label on it
So, we can run Free”- Tove Lo

Never knew anyone can be so caught up in unattainable and unobtainable. You are every opposite thing that I stand for or what I find attractive in women. You are nothing like my expectation but I dare say you got some temptation. I mean we’ve been friends for quite a while but never knew about this tension between us that I lately have been discovering. Never knew my heart could beat this faster, never knew your finger tips felt this good on my lips. Lately, I love those intentional sneaks of dry humps as we pass across our way through narrow hallways. Even the touch of your damp sweaty hands! I know that is supposed to be gross but I think we are past the point of anything at this point.
My brain tries to wake me up constantly but I ignore everything just to hear the moans slipping out of your mouth.
I love when you grab my hand and take to your genitals. I love when you make bold moves. I love bold women, that is the only common thing you have among my likeables in women but we connect so well. Your thighs over mine, your breath on my neck. Damnn you are so vulnerable yet such a power house. No, we are not this person; we just can’t act this way. I know this isn’t right but I never felt something bad this right. As much as I love to throw you into one of those bathroom stalls. Tear our clothes until we are just wearing our skin. Kiss every inch of your body. Make you moan, scream, call my name. Never been in the hold of someone whose power is unknown. But we are just keeping it hush even within ourselves because this isn’t right for long run. So, let’s get over it. How do we get over it?