xoxo boy... only if you could hear all my complains in one go... 

The week began with a quiet determination to set my worries aside for a while and meet each day with a little more lightness. But I didn’t realize how dangerous expectations can be; how they don’t just bruise the heart, but weigh on the body too.

I tried, I really did, to silence the noise in my head, chasing small, simple joys to keep myself steady. But with every passing hour, I felt myself retreating, shrinking back into my own little corner… my breathing space. It’s the only place where I can pause, steady myself, and gather the strength to rebuild what keeps slipping away.

Today, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I gave in, took the day off, and just… drove. Aimlessly. Through unfamiliar streets that honestly terrified me, I don’t think I’d ever dare to take them in the dark. But I needed something, anything, to feel grounded again.

I tried reaching out, tried to distract myself, but it all blurred into restlessness; snacking without thinking, soda after soda, a bad mood I couldn’t shake… and yes, an entire bar of Toblerone. I can already imagine your disapproval. But maybe you shouldn’t have left me this scattered, this lost, trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite feel whole anymore.

 

Sip Into Something Fresh

I know it sounds a little whimsical, but I wished he was there, holding a tall, sunlit glass of lemonade, pausing long enough to just smile and allow me say, How thoughtful!"

On heated summer afternoons,
we’d drag out the enormous lawn mower
(at least, it always felt enormous to me)
and let it hum and chomp its way
through the wild, restless grass,
until the yard softened
into something serene…
a quiet place
where I could finally breathe.

A place where morning would arrive gently,
carrying the scent of happiness
in its very first breeze.

If you’ve never noticed
those early hours belong to no one.
They are meant for gathering yourself,
for stitching together fragments of peace,
for learning how to simply be.

No human echoes
only the soft, scattered songs
of wandering birds,
the delicate rustle of life unfolding,
even the small, unseen creatures
finding their joy in the ordinary.

And there a spider’s web,
finely woven with impossible patience,
catching light like a secret
reminding you how life, too,
can be intricate
and still beautifully simple
all at once.

Oh… how did I wander here?
All this,
just because I was missing my lemonade… huh..hmm.. 

The heat may have lingered,
the work may have wearied me,
but I held onto the quiet hope
that look of satisfaction
he would wear
after every long, tedious task.

Now it lives only as a soft memory
something I return to,
to refresh,
to rebuild,
to remember.... with or without the lemonade.

Evernear!

Since his muscles felt weak, I began missing the strength in asking for a scalp massage. Not because I thought I wouldn’t get it, but because I didn’t want to risk the emotion it might stir in him. He wouldn’t express it openly, but I could sense the subtle weight in his words, the quiet way he missed those cozy moments we shared.

We had built a rhythm, engaged in small but meaningful habits of self-care or rather, caring for each other and I missed that deeply. The simple things that surrounded us had became practices that nurtured our bond, extending our time together with giggles and effortless boundaries.

Today, it felt strange when she touched my scalp, trying to create that “customer satisfaction” ambience. A brief flashback distracted me and nudged me to ask for a little more. She was time-bound and couldn’t understand the reason behind my request, but I realized something: even though the process was the same, the fingers were different. The pressure, the comfort, the pleasure - it wasn’t anything same.

... pausing it here as I walk deep down the memory lane... 

Wherever you are…..

Little did you know how much your guidance meant to me, how much I quietly looked forward to it. Sometimes it came gently, other times wrapped in teasing observations and soft giggles. Either way, it always felt like an earnest pull, as if we were effortlessly drawing each other closer, only to end up wrapped in the simple ecstasy of being together.

I miss every breath of that process, from the moments of getting ready, to the end of the day when I would return and slip back into my pajamas. Yet today, I step forward prepared to feel your presence in every move I make. Because I know, and I trust, that somewhere you will be there in the audience, smiling at my mistakes and waiting to say, “Ahh… you still don’t know anything.”

Life moves on, and so will I. But from the moments of dressing up to the quiet moments of letting the day go, nothing remains quite the same without you, my love.

Wherever you are… wish me luck!

Keeping Some Memories at Widdershins

 I kept my calm to ease the pulse: 

so much to hold within so little time.
I pushed back old memories as I walked that familiar path,
this time to create new captures with him.

Leaving a part of the past behind felt awkward, almost heavy, 
but I knew I had to move through it.

We sat around the corner, refreshing memories but now, only for laughter.
We remembered every bit of it,
and marveled at how much had changed…and yet, how nothing truly had except:

The young man sitting beside me had grown immensely in responsibility.
Admired by many and still deeply rooted, he now walks with a quiet strength that somehow strengthens me too.

There weren’t many words exchanged this time, yet he spoke; he spoke endlessly through his actions.
The room was just as I had expected,
but he turned chaos into calm, steadying every nerve.

He wouldn’t let me sit still.
We wandered through every corner of the dorm,
and yet, somehow, he made space for me to rest. A small nap beside him brushed away more than exhaustion.

Meeting his studio-mates filled me with awe.
Their support for one another was rare and beautiful.
They checked in, stood side by side,
listened, truly listened and gave each other room to breathe through worries.
They laughed at the silliest moments
and embraced every experience with open hearts.

Watching them celebrate and uplift one another was deeply heartwarming.
In a world that often feels rushed and competitive, their affection, respect, and camaraderie shone brightly.

We giggled about future plans,
while quietly acknowledging how grateful we are for the people who walk beside us.

A few hours, filled with love and admiration, felt like an ocean of cheerfulness.

And in his silent see-off,
he taught me something for the days ahead:

There is no looking back; 
only moving forward,
carrying the warmth of what was,
grounded in what is,
and hopeful for what will be.

Sanguinity..

The heart bleeds again
into the quiet corridors of the subconscious,
where memories hang like unfinished frames
and every color stains a deeper red.

Sanguinity does not suit every season;
sometimes hope feels like a costume
stitched too tight against the ribs.
I am tired of pretending
the moment is enough.

With each breath
I fasten a smile to my face,
threading effort into the hollow spaces,
yet every attempt goes in vain
a promise whispered
to walls that do not answer.

I tell myself
that someday all things will settle,
that the chaos will fold into calm
but I do not know
if I am healing
or merely hiding.

I tuck away the aches,
name them anything but longing.
Still, when tears descend unannounced,
they lead me back
to where we once stood
to where you let go.

How miserably I miss
the simple sanctuary of your arms,
that quiet wrap of warmth
where the world softened its edges.

There are moments
I want to unravel before someone
yet I swallow the storm,
afraid to disturb another sky
with my thunder.

So I rise for the sake of days ahead,
brushing sorrow from my sleeves,
wearing cheerfulness like armor.
I will try
in every small, stubborn way
to keep the light alive.

But tonight, my love,
your absence aches with a sharper voice.
I drove through restless roads
thinking motion might steady me,
yet even the wind
could not dry the salt of my cheeks.

They say tears trouble the departed,
that peace trembles at the sound of grief.
Do not worry my love
I will learn to cry in whispers.

Still, carefully, quietly,
I will continue to crave your love.

And in the hush before sleep,
I confess the simplest wish
to rest my weary head upon your lap once more,
and gather the comfort
I still believe was meant for me.

 xoxo...miss you so badly

Who has seen the Overmorrow.. It’s now or never!

Every step heals a quiet part of me.

It took courage to rise and begin rebuilding, and it took the steady presence of my confidants, their faith, their encouragement to keep me moving when I could not see the way ahead.

For a long time, I overlooked the fierce strength they were pouring into me, brushing it aside because I could not find a reason to stand up again. They gently reminded me that the reason was never for anyone else; it was for myself. I did not fully understand the depth of those words then, but I carry their meaning now.

With reflection and silent gratitude, I began to untangle the knots of my setbacks. I returned to Mother Earth through the anklets, the ghungroo, whose rhythm steadies my breath, heals what was shaken, and slowly shapes a renewed self with every sound.

They say I don’t owe them anything.
What they may never fully realize is how deeply their presence has shaped me.

There is something rare about the way they hold space, grounding without dimming, steadying without restraining, allowing me to shine while gently reminding me where my roots are. In a world that often feels hurried and transactional, that kind of quiet strength is uncommon.

I may not always see what happens behind the scenes, but I know enough to understand that much is done without announcement, without expectation, simply so the show goes on, so the moment feels effortless, so I can stand a little taller.

This is my quiet acknowledgment; humble, sincere, and deeply grateful for all that is done, seen and unseen. (xoxo)∞