Tag: c’est la vie


She was constantly turning melancholy Into poetry Splattering the pain, that Coursed through her veins Onto pages of blank paper And watching, as her pain Wrote beautiful verses Turning pain into an art form Making people cry, at How something so ugly Could create something … Continue reading Poetry.


“Words, in my not-so-humble opinion, are the most inexhaustible source of magic we have.”

– Albus Dumbledore


The words you speak, go straight to my heart

Like an arrow, shot from your mouth

The words get dipped in sorrow and heartache

They mix with my blood, and flow through my veins

Until my whole body, is singing with the pain

The words break down, into a million little pieces

Flowing through me, cutting me with their jagged edges

I just might die, not of a broken heart

Rather, from your broken words.


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore



You took pieces of me with you, when you Walked out the door, on that cold December night Now I’m an unfinished jigsaw puzzle, with pieces Missing here and there. Since then I’ve been searching For all my missing pieces, in All the wrong places … Continue reading Pieces.


Hypophrenia: A vague feeling of sadness, seemingly without cause.

Have you ever been doing something completely normal, and then a wave of sadness hits you out of nowhere? You don’t know why, but you feel so sad and depressed all of a sudden. You think talking to people will help, but it doesn’t, not really. You try to talk to a few people, but as soon as you start talking to them, you realize that you don’t really want to. You realize that you don’t actually care about anything.

There’s this gloomy cloud hanging over your head, and the sunshine seems so far away. You lose interest in everything, even the things you used to love doing so much. You feel like sleeping all the time, you feel so tired. You lie down and close your eyes, thinking you can just sleep it off, but sleep chooses that moment to play hide-and-seek with you. Its SO close, but still not close enough. Sleep is just out of reach. And your brain chooses that moment to replay every memory of you getting hurt. And, before you know it, you’re crying and you don’t even know why it all began.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

P.S. Sorry I’ve been MIA.

What is love?

To Pranay Oscar Lakra, again. Why? Because I can. Also, because sometimes love is simply a best friend being there for you.

Love is finding someone who loves all your broken pieces.

Love is finding someone who doesn’t want to tame your demons, but wants to dance with them.

Love is understanding them, and not judging them at times when everyone else would.

Love is loving them even when you hate them.

Love is giving up your last slice of chocolate cake, even though you love cake.

Love is finding someone who knows the complete version of the real you, the version you keep hidden from everybody else, and they love you for it.

Love is finding someone you never have to be anybody but yourself with.

Love is arguing with them with all you’ve got without the fear of losing them hanging over your head.

Love is when their mood can easily affect yours.

Love is taking care of them when they are too old to take care of themselves.

Love is sitting on your porch swing when you’re old and wrinkled, and watching your grandkids play.

Love is not letting them go to bed sad.

Love is making their favourite food when they’re mad at you, even though you suck at cooking.

Love is wanting to kill them, but not doing so because you would miss them.

Love is telling them the truth, even if it’s going to hurt.

Love is getting up off the dinner table and suddenly twirling her around, and watching the happiness flash across her face.

Love is when you can think out loud in front of them.

Love is finding someone who would just.. Stay.

Love is home.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

A post without periods.

One of the worst feelings about losing someone you used to be close to, is when you talk to them again, and they don’t even make an effort to keep the conversation going, and you feel like you’re talking to yourself, and you realize how much things have changed, and how much about them you don’t know, and you don’t even know what questions to ask because you just don’t know what’s going on in their life, and the best thing you can come up with are empty conversation fillers like “what’s up”, and you can’t even ask them about their life because you don’t know if you still have the right to ask them that, so you settle for the little things that they do tell you, and you make your own theories, and you convince yourself that you shouldn’t worry about their life because they clearly aren’t worried about yours, but you’re screaming inside because you want to tell them how much you miss them, and you want to ask them if they miss you, and whether it hurts them too that you have drifted apart, and you sit there listing all the reasons you think they won’t miss you, but some part of you is hoping that some part of them misses you, and it finally hits you that they don’t really care, and maybe its better to let things go and make a clean break rather than hanging on by a thread because its just too painful.

And, if you have reached the end of that sentence, you have my massive respect.

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

A letter to you.

Hi. I’ve been wanting to say a couple of things to you for a long time, but whenever I had the chance to say them out loud, I somehow couldn’t form the words. So I decided to do what I do best, write them instead.

This is not a letter about how much I love you, or how much you mean to me. Because you know all of that already. And, I know that you love me too. And I also know how much. I’m the first-and sometimes, only- person you tell stuff to. I’m the person you call bursting with news because you couldn’t wait another minute to tell me. I’m the person that saves you from yourself, the one that is always there for you. I’m the one that keeps all of your broken pieces glued together.

And you’re all those things for me, too. You’re there for me. You’re there for all the important things. And, I wish that were enough. But, it’s not. I want¬†need you to be there for the unimportant things, too. The little things that do not matter, I need you for those, too.

I hate the fact that you take me for granted. Hate the fact that you think I won’t go anywhere. And, I hate myself more because it’s true. I hate that your problems always overshadow mine. For once in your life, I want you to stop talking about your life, and really pay attention to what’s happening in mine. Even if it’s not interesting, even if you’re bored out of your mind, I want you to just.. Listen. And, I hate that I keep hoping for this to happen, even though I more than likely know that it won’t. I want you to be the kind of friend that I am to you.

I know you’re probably never going to read this. I guess it’s one of the main reasons I had the courage to write this. And, truth be told, I don’t want you to read this. Because I’m scared of what might happen if you do. About what comes after that. Because, no matter what, I don’t think I want there to be an end.

Still all the love in the world, R

Don’t be someone who doesn’t look out the window.

They say, in life, the little things are the most important. Like, someone calling you pretty, or someone picking up a book you dropped, or a stranger smiling at you on the road, or a homeless person blessing you when you give them two bucks.

Life is not one grand gesture. It’s a million little things strung together beautifully to make the whole picture.

But, some people are too busy with what they think is important, that they miss what actually is. Yes, you career is important. Making it in life is important. Buying a home, being successful, becoming rich, all of them are important.

But, think about it. Is that all there is to life? What if you were so hell bent on making it in the world, that you lose everyone you love in the process? That you miss out on all the little joys the world has to offer?  Having everything, but having no one to share it with. Is it really worth it?

There is this line from a song by Alicia keys. If I ain’t got you. “Hand me the world on a silver platter, and what good would it be, with no one to share, and no one who truly cares for me?” When you are lying sick on a hospital bed, your career is not going to look after you.

“Don’t be someone who doesn’t look out the window.” I came across this line in a book by Sophie Kinsella, The Undomestic Goddess. The protagonist is a lawyer and she may very well become the youngest partner in her firm. But, it all gets to be too much and one day, she just runs off and lives in a small town working as a maid for some very nice people. There, she realizes what’s really important in life.

But, when the people from her firm find her and come to take her back, she goes with them. But, in the train, on the way back, she spots a very rare bird through the window. She cries out “look out the window, you guys!” But, nobody looks up. Everyone is too busy tapping away in their BlackBerrys. She thinks to herself, that these people are married to their work, and in that process are forgetting to live. She feels ashamed of having been this way. She says to herself, “I don’t wanna be someone who doesn’t look out the window.” She quits, and goes in search of the man she fell in love with.

I fell in love with that line. And since then, I never miss an opportunity to look out the window. Literally, and figuratively.

Wake up at 5 AM and look at the sunrise. Walk barefoot on the grass in the morning, when its fresh with dew. Go on a rollercoaster and scream like a little girl. Never forget to tell the people you love that you love them. Live for the little things. Look out the window.