In The Grand Scheme of Things

When I was nine (let’s say nine for now because I can’t remember the specific age) I had only one close friend. We were friends, not because we really worked well with each other, as to how childhood friends are formed, out of situational circumstances. Our situational circumstance was that she was the only person in my age group who lived closest to me, and who my mum allowed me to hang out with because she wouldn’t let me go to my other friends’ houses since they lived too far. As of a result, she was my one and only friend, but only outside of school.

In those days, we would come out to play when the sun started to set and it wasn’t too hot outside. There used to be this fire hydrant in front of her house which was roofed over by a tree and so we claimed it as our hang out “house”. And we would play tag, hide n seek, fantasy and whatever else kids played before the age of smartphones. And soon we began using our imaginations and planning ahead of our time. How we’d be friends in the future, living together in an apartment. We planned out the bedrooms and even made a list of kitchen utensils to not forget. And then I came up with ideas of making a group to change the world and we would have meetings to discuss these ideas. Like I remember I had an idea to have an enlarged version of an ambulance to carry more patients in one go, the ambulance bus. I even began making a presentation for it and told everyone to create an email so that I can add them to the google circle so that we have these meetings in the comforts in our home for when our parents wouldn’t allow us out to play. I don’t even remember sending the presentation, but I remember working on it with so much fire and passion like it was the best feeling in the world. Like I’m going to bring so much into this world with our contributions as a team.

Funny how time changes people, and how people change over time. My friend became snarkier towards me. She began to bully me, do pranks on me with the rest of the group and leave me out of conversations. Soon I realized that we weren’t right for each other as personalities go, and she made a new group of friends, so did I. Although, I was unfortunate to not be able to find someone just as driven to come up with ideas and contribute positively to the world around us. It felt like I was flapping my arms around against the current as I was taken down the river, not taking control of where I wanted to go for myself.

Now I found this guy. He’s a fresh graduate and I’m starting my 4th year of medicine. He’s beautiful inside and outside and every time I talk with him; he makes my heart smile in the My Funny Valentine kind of way. And the thing that has won me over like a little girl is that he gets excited every time I share my ideas. He makes it easy for me to get passionate about talking about these kinds of things, and even adds his input into making it better or how I could get it done. He could listen to me go on and on and on about them with his endless span of attention because he actually finds them too interesting to pretend otherwise. And just as I was, when I was nine, I immediately wanted him to be my life long partner in crime. To push, motivate me to carry out these incredible ideas that keep bursting into my mind too often and not have to suppress them with shame like I’ve done all those years after my former close friend bullied me for.

I’m an adult, I’ve grown and honed in on what matters to me, and how not to let others belittle my voice. Yet, somewhere deep down, I’m that little girl again afraid to be shut out.

My Image.

Nothing scares me more than not being able to speak for myself.

Than not having a say on what I want, how I should look, what I should wear.

Nothing scares me more than for me to not be able to be myself.

To lose myself in other people’s eyes.

Nothing scares me more than losing my voice.

To not be heard, to not matter, to not exist.

I haven’t been able to speak for a while. I forgot how to be truthful and accept my misery in living; denying my reality for the sake of everyone else’s comfort. I’ve been looking for approval from everyone but myself. But I’ve also been alone for too long to recognise who I’ve become and how I want to be seen.

I need to write more. Be honest more. Be accepting more. Suppress my misery less. And do more.


Under the belt
Think I can go another week without you
What’s another week without you
I wanna know how does it feel
To know that I’m not worried about who’s not missing you

I can see fine without you
I can navigate through my mind without you
Not worried about wasting time without you
Just like the days before I met you

And I knew, I just knew
I could do it
I could leave through the same entrance
Before I moved in

I’ve faced worse without you
This is not the sort of bs I should be going through
How did all the things going for me have to go through you.


Lately I’ve been throwing myself at people’s attentions too often. Enough to lose myself into their demands without stopping to see what’s right for me.

Despite being the preacher of “I’ll always put myself first” motto, I somehow forgot what it truly meant for me to do so. I’ve let things slide so far off that I’ve redefined my comfort to “If I’m making them happy, it makes me happy”, while giving more power to their priorities than my own.

So I’m standing here seeing all that I’ve lost and all that I’ll need to regain to retain what once was mine.

Another Episode.

She said you’re only human when you’re not alone

Not daydreaming about jumping of the side of a road

Running over your thoughts to find the solution to attain peace

Piecing together any words you can access to sound coherent

For here there ain’t much to soothe the loud loud… the train that you want is lost amongst the hundreds of others

Rush hours on end by end, broken backs, sunken eyes and trying to not try

Try to be

Try to be.

She said you feel more human when you’re alone

When the station’s empty, blanketed by the warmth of darkness close to your own.

What To Do?

I can’t get my head straight.

I can’t fail again but I feel no motivation to work harder either.

I can’t understand what’s wrong with me but I feel like I’m begging myself to be that person I think I am. Or at least used to be. I’m begging myself to be smart, perceptive and confident. To be as capable as every other person in my batch.

But the grades show that I’m not. I convinced everyone around me including myself that I could do it and I didn’t do it.

It’s a nasty burn and I don’t know how to elevate from here.


Do other people… do normal people…

Hate the sound of their voice after a long day and can’t get it out of their head

Wish that they would stop talking in their head

Wish they couldn’t hear their own voice in their head

But also has so much more to say

Also has so much to tell from thoughts and ideas in their head

So much to show, to express, to picture it into someone else’s mind

But can’t

People are people-ing

Life is moving and changing and making and working

Faster than they can conjure the courage to speak their mind

As if it, the sound of their voice will create a scene outside of this reality

And absorb the other person’s attention like this moment is the entire world and everything else cease to exist

The conversation holds possibilities to create something magical, something worthwhile and authentic, genuine, honest, original, real


I could speak and speak and speak until the waterfalls runs dry

And I’ll never feel satisfied because

I’ve said enough for today, more than enough, but less than normal

To people who couldn’t encourage the spell I whisked up to pull us out this slavery.

I have so much… so much to give, it could overflow out of my chest

But I can’t sleep because I can’t get my voice out of my head telling me all it wants to tell to someone who’ll listen.