One Way Ticket

"So...I might leave on December 4th or January 7th. Are you going to be ready if I leave on December 4th?" I dropped the bomb at the dinner table in the window between our food coming to our table. He looks at me in shock- "Wow, that's fast. I am not going to be ready if it's December 4th or January, Div." I look at him, with scrambled feelings inside me which eventually made their way up to my face. "I am going to the bathroom." he tells me. I look upset. "I need a moment. It's not you bubby. I'll be right back." and he walks away to the toilet. I sit, reflect and listen to the English people conversing beside our table. I can see one of the guys looking at me, from my peripheral. And then, I drink the champagne in my flute, bottoms up, and pour myself another glass.

One way ticket. One way tickets give you the thrill that a return ticket is never capable of giving you. You are leaving the life you knew and going forward to start a new one. Coming to the States was a one way ticket. Going back to India, is a one way ticket. But I will come back, after a year. I guess I will. I guess. 

Certainty has never been a part of my life. Neither stability. I have nothing but dynamism and stagnancy happen to me for the past 19 years. It's kind of ironic. Actually more of an oxymoron, but true. But I am proud to say that I lived in each moment, but also died in some. I was dead inside for a while now, but now, I am born again. I am glad for all that I have been through. It makes me who I am today. And it will keep shaping me, certainly.

We spent the night, together. One of the most painful nights I have spent with him. I tried to harm myself, again. I thought I was past that but I was not. I look at the scar his dull Swiss knife left on my skin. I probed it enough to make it bleed a bit. I remember laughing when that happened. Dear lord, what have I done, again? Little reminders. Souvenirs of Chicago.
I wake up in the morning and wake him up. I am looking at him trying to take charge. I am looking at him breaking down piece by piece. Little shards of him falling onto his laptop screen as he tries to make sense of the financial mess he is in. I transfer him 50 dollars while he's at it. He looks at the notification. "Oh thanks Div." and I see a little part of him die a bit more inside.
I look at him make a phone call to Design Bureau. "I'm sorry I let you down. I am turning in what I have. I'll take a kill fee. I just took way too much on my plate and I am sorry once again." He's looking at me while he's on the phone. Is it me who caused it. He did not say it, but he clearly showed it. Maybe, it was me, after all. Maybe leaving is going to do us both good. That's something that is going to happen in my uncertain future, so I choose to just live in the present right now.
I can see him crumble down internally. It's as if I can look through him. It's so upsetting to see the people you look up to, the people who inspire you being so fucked up. It's really painful. Everyone looks so correct when you're not a part of their life. Once they let you in, they're actually in a shit show. All the geniuses I have met, are all in a shit show. He's one of the very few who I look up to, and seeing him like that, crushes me down. I am hurting, physically, mentally and emotionally. Dear Lord, what have I done, again? 
There is complete silence for a while. He looks at me and says, "I've never done that before." on the verge of sounding liberated, which he was not. "Do you know what it feels like to quit a job? Well, you have dropped out of school. It's a thousand times worse than that." he tells me looking mad. "Let's go smoke this cigarette, please." I tell him and we proceed.
We're standing outside, both looking at different directions. I am scared to look at him in the eye because I am really scared of him. He has told me before that it was me causing it and I just cannot get that out of my head. Maybe it is me after all, innit? "I feel kind of proud of myself. I feel happy for being honest. I have never done that before." He blurts. I just look at him, not showing that I am scared, I say, "Well, that's the beauty of honesty. It's a pretty cool thing you know?" He nods. I am worried about him, though.

We take a cab back to my place. I had to drop him to therapy first. We had a pretty interesting driver called Mark. He had a wonderful Chrysler cruiser, or something. It was black so it instantly got me. We had a pretty great conversation with him. I had a deeper one with him after I dropped my bub to therapy. I inspired him to publish his book. Mark looked at me deep in the eye and said. "He's blessed to have somebody like you to take care of him." I said, "But I am leaving, Mark. I owe this to myself." He kind of was upset. He looks at me, very carefully and says, "Look Divya, you are very intelligent. You are very unique and I can see you go far in life. I have met many people in my life but you are different. You have a flame and you will make it to where you want to go. You inspired me to publish my book. I am very certain about you. I can see it in you. You have a very clear mind and a very pure soul. Do not worry about anything. I know you will get what you want. I am very sure. I am going to drop you off here but I hope to see you again. Well, I guess I will, one day. Take care Divya. Go and fulfill your dreams. Have a nice day."

This was the day I learned that I am really good at marketing.

Who are we?

Who are we?
I sit with him in his bed, drinking champagne with him. It's around 10 pm. We were talking about him and then we were talking about us. It felt like a repeated conversation, to him. Always does. But then I said something. I asked him for the first time, as awkward as it felt to say it, I said, "Can we talk about me? We've never talked about me." He complies with a sigh and a nod, "Yes. We have not. Let's talk about you." I made a mistake by saying that.
As I kept digging up my past and told him about me, I realised that I am just as broken as he is. But I can navigate through it and he has trouble with that. I feel it is a recent event. He looks at me, deep into my soul and tells me, "We're the same. We're different people but God, we are so similar." I drop a tear from my right eye. I look at him and said, "I know."
As we keep arguing and talking about each other both of us drop down our walls and look at each other. We are both so fucked up. I never realised that. I knew him so well but he did not know me at all. What were we doing to each other? What  are we doing to each other?
A new relationship bloomed on the ashes of an old one. The same place, the same room. I remember late nights and mid afternoons just talking and falling bit by fucking bit. Did I do wrong? Did I put in too much? Guess I did. But I am hoping that I did learn. It feels like I have but you can never be too fucking sure when it comes to stuff like "love." I am worried about myself as much as I am worried about him. I am, for the first time. That is why, I plan to move. Call it running away but I need my roots again. All men need roots. And my roots are in a different country. A place I lived in for 10 years and some more months. I need to go.
Shallow people make their wishes come true by wishing ill upon others. I am not wishing ill upon anybody. I am just trying to make things work for myself. I am trying to make things work for us. But will we ever have that "us" again? I do not know. I thought it was meant to be but maybe it was not. Maybe I was just a person who needed to help a soul realise where he stands. Maybe. Well, if it works out well, I will be nothing but happy. I guess.
I will do my best for the best to happen. I am not really sure what the best is at this moment of time but it will be something. It has to be something. I made a mistake. I lost charge. I lost control and the worst of it all, I lost myself. No one is to blame. Nobody is responsible for my happiness and nobody is responsible to make me happy. Nobody. It is purely my fault and now when I have come to terms with it, I am shaken up. I thought I was getting better but I was, wrong. There is not much time for waiting for reciprocation or waiting for a miracle. Now it is the time to-act on my behalf. Act for myself and finding myself. Pulling myself out of this quicksand. If I do not do it in time, I will drown and be lost in a void and never be retrieved. It's painful but, it's essential.
I am over it all. The ideas of everything. I am really over it. I have realised and learned a lot from life in this year. I have learned what it has to offer and what it does not have to offer. I have realised the true meaning of illusion and a distorted reality. And I am not scared to make changes any more. It does suck balls to be at this stage in life but it would suck even more if I let it pertain and do nothing about it. I have condoned with my "desires" enough. Now, I have to stop. It is time. There is no use prolonging something which is not meant to be prolonged or worse, which is not meant to be there. I tried to create my world without considering the fact that I still have to deal with reality. It does not work that way. To think that it did got me here and now, I know. It's been harsh to learn it though. But it will be fruitful, I know that for sure.
There is no room for regret or remorse in my heart or mind now. It is time to "deal with it." It has been painful but I am glad that experiences like these push me to become a stronger person. A better person. A wiser person and last but not the least, a happier person. I am pained that I had to go through this. I never thought I deserved this but-what is it that I deserve then? No one can ever know. I will make a mark. I will leave a scar. I will have a mark and I will have a scar on me too. A little dreamer died a little today. A little illusionist became a realist today. A little child grew a bit more today. Today is a painful day. 25th November 2014. A day which will always be marked in my calender.
In conclusion, I have been damaged and I have damaged. I apologize to everybody who has been hurt in the way. It has been tough on me and has taken a toll on me. It has been tough on the people who had to go through all of this crap because of me. It's a genuine apology. I do not need any sympathy but I do need some support to get back up. I am blessed to have known such amazing people in my life and I am proud of each and everyone I am close to. I do not have any idea where my life is going but I think I will make it through, somehow. I always do. I just need to focus on myself a bit and be the best person I can be at this current moment of time. Change is always hard and not very comfortable but it is essential. I have lived a hell of a life for a 19 year old, caused some really cool shit and stuff. I cannot believe that I have had such great opportunities to visualise and grow in this life of mine. I am proud of the things I have accomplished but also not proud of most of the things I have done. In the end, I apologise to myself for letting myself down. I am hoping the future would be good for me but I cannot be too certain. I am certain about the present and even though it may feel and look like a "wrong choice" to many people, I know it is the best choice for me. I will achieve my goals and maybe, one day, if I am ever ready again, come back. This year has been a turmoil and I wish to grow to become a better and happier person. I am on a new, mission. Thank you for everybody who supported me and believed in me. I hope, you will be able to witness the new me sooner than later. I promise, I'll never lose the crazy.

Divya Taneja.

It's not cold in Chicago

Div.
It's not cold in Chicago yet.
What the fuck are you doing shivering and quivering with that cigarette in your hand?
You have a wool coat on, cashmere blend.
And you hold in your hand a camel long.
It's not cold in Chicago, Div, you are wrong.
It's not cold in Chicago yet.
You saw your first snow, flurries to be honest.
It has not even snowed yet. It's not a white forest.
Not yet.
Your coat's fabric is made in Italy
And you're standing outside your building, timidly
What the fuck Div, why?
It's not cold in Chicago.
Remember about the man who walks around on the streets?
Torn shorts with broken shoes and a broken mind?
How the fuck must he be feeling?
Are you fucking willing
To be him?
No you're not. So why are you cribbing?
Instead of living
In this fucking city like the boss you are?
It's not even the beginning
It's not even thrilling
So what the fuck are you talking about, Div?
It's not cold in Chicago.
Not fucking yet.
You're standing tall in the streets
You're walking with the beats
Not the ones by Dr. Dre
But I am talking about the music you play
While you're commencing about your 'swag walk'
Enough talk
It's not cold in Chicago yet Div.
Get a hold of your fucking self.
And a hold of those pair of balls you just lost.
It's not cold in Chicago yet Div.
It's only cold in your heart.
Only in your fucking heart.

Just how many times have you Lol'd today

Just how many times have you,

lol'd today, you fucking whacko?

Today is a weird day. Chicago is surprisingly neither cold, nor wet. But the people down at Wicker Park most certainly are. Probably because it's a Friday night and they are looking to get "turnt." But seriously, fuck these bullshit drinking laws of the United States. It's one thing that divides me from this country. Right now I would probably be in a club in Singapore with a vodka shot in my hand, another one already going down my oesophagus.  What you doing at home on a Friday. Boy, I am waiting for my fake i-day. I cannot fathom the stupidity of whoever thought that people should start drinking "legally" when they are 21. Like adolescents are known for fucking around in their age groups. They're going to fuck, drink, do drugs anyway. There is not only one way. Fucking idiots in the system. This is one of the areas which makes me lose my faith in the government and rich people. If I could just knock some sense in their brains... Or knock them in the fucking gut. 

I feel surprisingly arrogant today. Maybe it is this iced mocha I just had, or maybe it's the stupid people around me all over the fucking place. I would go with the second reason. I cannot stop thinking about this psychotic woman who's giving everybody a hard time. I cannot believe she can even give someone a "hard" time with that face and personality. Jamming to five hours in a cafe shop writing this, tell me I am Dali. 

I feel like the female version of Kanye West today. I do not know how that fucking bloke made it so big lol. I am looking at this wankstain typing something on his 4 inches waste of fucking technology. No seriously fuck that shit. I'd rather have a lobster telephone in my hand, because FUCKING DALI.

In case I did not tell you, there is no defined purpose of this post lol. But is there any defined purpose of any fucking thing any more? I guess not. 

I will tell you, one thing that I am certain about. Being an artist is f u c k i n g c o o l. Word. You can do anything you want without any given explanation. Why are you wearing that? Oh, I am an artist. Why are you drinking that? Oh I am an artist. Why are you having a seizure? Oh I am an artist. Why is he wanking about in public. Oh he's an artist. Just saying that I am an artist or he/she is an artist makes one think that one is fucking weird and basically just gives you a free ticket to do anything. Drugs, women, men, coffee, pissing on a Warhol painting when he's standing right there. Believe me, that's been done by the one and only, Salvador Dali. Shit you not. 

Dali is my alter ego. Or maybe, wait. Dali is my real ego. I am just not that great of an artist to fuck around with people's feelings but that does not stop me. Because I am Divya fucking Taneja. Literally, sometimes I feel like I am an asshole but then when I look around, I am surrounded by them. So I tend to conform. I just say everything I feel like on somebody's face. Take it or fucking leave it. I do not give a bloody fuck what you think. And I do not fucking care what you say about me. But the difference between you and me is that, I have shiny ass metal balls to say it to your dick shaped face. This may sound like a hate post but it's just what I feel about some people and I really do not give a fuck lol.
This bloke is stoned out of his fucking mind and is playing Mario and sucks at it. Lol, he is so bad at this. Bro, you just got killed- he does not give a fuck. But on the contrary, he wants to fuck. There are three kinds of sheeple. 1) those who give a fuck. 2) those who want to fuck. 3) those who just don't give a fuck in any shape, size or font. I think you can tell that I am obviously type 1. Lol. 

So, I have no clue what I am doing right now. The bro playing the video game just flaked lol. My lungs feel full of smoke and it is difficult to breathe right now. I do not know what I am doing with my life right now but I do not fucking care- why do you? There are sometimes you just got to tell your brain to shut the fuck up and then flash your tits. Yes. Believe me, you will feel 100% better. I swear to God, I'd be remarkable therapist. I despise the "self diagnosed" kind of people who just crib about everything and then turn out to have nothing wrong with them. I just think to myself, man, that cannot be true. You definitely do have something wrong or maybe it is just the absence of a brain. Gave that a thought, therapists? No. You know why? Because you cannot be truthful to people as you will not make any money, any more lol. You know it. You money hungry pieces of shit. After the greens- both ways. And no I am not talking about the vegetables.

ANYWAY, I have no idea what the fuck this post is  about. I literally do not know how I am such a fuckwit sometimes but it's cool. It makes me hip- lol. Back to the topic, just how many times have you lol'd today? I have pretty much lol'd through my day. Still loling to be honest. I scratched my face because I had to deal with somebody's stupidity today. So yeah. People do way too much to amuse me sometimes. It's great. A free comedy show, whenever, where ever. Well anyway, I have to sign off now because I cannot think of anything else to write. So bye cool. 

Nanaji

It's nearing, the day he died.
The day I lied about "not feeling emotional." I wish I had mourned enough.
Dear Granddad- I miss you.
It's going to be 4 years soon. It hits me harder each year. Not mourning when you passed. I knew I had you but I was young and I did not want your wisdom back then. I wish I did get some of it because I am so fucked up right now. I knew I had you but, I do not, any more.
My tiny 15 year old hands were your deathbed. You and I were alone that evening, it was not cold or anything. Your last minute was what was surrounded by your wife and this relative I disliked. I remember you holding my hand and asking me to give up before I started to give you the little CPR I knew. It was painful. To know what was going on and yet not to acknowledge it. It was, painful. I looked at you and I did my best. I am sorry for not being the doctor you were, maybe if I was, you would have been physically with me, today. I feel hurt.
I did not mourn your death. I was so in love with this "first love" of my life that I ignored the fact that this will ever affect me. And it did. As I said, it gets worse every year. The more I learn, the more I repent. I wish I could have spent more time with you in your last days. You were getting better and then, you were gone. I feel shattered, right now.
It's 4 am in the morning, 21st October, 2 days before it all happened. I remember the brief fight you and the other family members got into because of some dumb reason. I remember but I ignored it, I did not want to be a part of it. You knew me, I'd keep myself away from all of the shit that was going on in the house. You knew me best, I just did not know that. I wish I was older, wiser so that I could have understood you better.
I had saved your life before. I would have lost you before but I saved you. It felt really scary but I saved you and it makes me proud of myself. Thank you for teaching me and spending time with me. If you had not, I would have lost you sooner than later. Thank you for keeping with me for a while longer, granddad.
I'm writing this post to you as if you will be reading it, but you will not be. It hurts to know the reality but not being able to face it strongly. I always tried to forget this day since the last four years but this time, it's getting to be really bad. Life has been hard and I wish I could have held you and come up to you for guidance. I swear I wish I could.
You were always proud of me. You always believed in me even when nobody else did. I wish I had people like you around me who would tell me my value. You made me believe myself. I wish I was older. I wish I was older enough to talk to you about the stuff I am going through right now. About life, about you, about me. I wish. Oh how I wish.
Ever since you left, my life changed, nana. I fell in love, I fell out of it. I was in depression for a year. Nobody saw it, really. I hid it quite well, according to myself. I wonder, if you were there, what would you have seen. What would you have told me. Would you have taken me in your arms and tell me that it will be okay, that you will always be there for me? Would you have seen my scabs and sterilised my wounds? Would you have taken me on long walks to get me a cone of ice cream even if you had trouble walking? Would you have sneaked in my room at 12 am and eat sweets with me? Would you have let me cried on your lap? I wish I could have experienced your wisdom when I needed it most. I wish.
I keep wondering, what we would have talked about if you saw me like that. Talking about love, friendship, parenthood etc. I wonder how those conversations would have been. I wonder how you would have talked to me about my parents. I wonder how you would have talked to me about the people I disliked. I wonder and I cry that I could never talk about such things with you, at all.
You gave me liberty and freedom. You shaped me up and made me turn into this crazy, twisted person I am today. I feel wise for my age and that is all because of you. I wish you were with me in this stage of life so that I could have shown you my artwork. I wish you were here with me so that I would not have to depend on my biological parents for anything. I wish you were here so that you could have seen me acknowledge you when I receive my first award. I wish you could have taught me things only you knew. But I never got the chance and when I did, I was too young and uninterested.
Nana, I miss you. A lot. I still keep the phone you bought me with me. I never really realised that that phone is actually the last physical memory I have of you. I have your notepads lying in India in my room's bookshelves. I loved your writing. It was and art. I really wish you were here so that I would not be crying writing this but it's something I will not get. I know. I always wanted to make you proud- and you were always proud of me but, I wanted to be proud of myself and then make you proud. I wish I was elder. I hope you are in a better place. Anything must be better than human life these days. I hope you are at peace. If you're reading this over my shoulder in ghost form, blow me a gentle kiss on my forehead and know that I love you. I hope, if reincarnation is real, that you will be a major part of my next life. I do not have any more words to say--just-- I love you, nana. Rest in Peace. 

Hope

The topic of this piece, I've lost it all.
Hope.
I remember when I was younger, about 16-17, I framed this quote, "hope is a dangerous thing, but it is the one thing that keeps us alive." which is true, if you think about it, but yes, now that it is all gone, I feel dead.
I have felt dead before but this time, it's a more advanced level. I do not know where I am or who I am any more. What people are any more. I am just mentally and emotionally prepared to- give up, quit living. I do not know when I might take that step but, I think it might be soon. I do not know, I am not sure.
Hope. I used to be a very hopeful person, once. By once I mean, until day before yesterday. Everyday now seems to be spiralling and hazy. Every morning feels bland, every night, feels weaker than the one before. Funny how I have demeaned my life so much, yet again.
I do not know where to go. I do not have anybody to go to. Friends, sure, but I still hide the darkest parts of me, somewhere. The lack of direction and focus has got to me to such an extent that I am prepared to, end it all, for good. I feel worthless and unworthy of anything. I feel like a waste of human space. I feel so gloomy. My eyes have started showing that and so has my body. There is nothing that I can think of doing, no where I can think of going. I do not have a home. If I return back, I fear that I will feel the same and still end myself. I would feel better about it, ending myself around people I know, to be honest. I am just so scared and lost. And lost as it is, I have. In every way. I have lost my people, I have lost my interests, I have lost my skills, focus, bravery, strength and most importantly why I am cribbing about it is that I have lost myself. It just feels like nothing was "mine" to begin with. Nothing. I do not know where to run to, any more. To my mother? To my safety net? To- myself? I just do not know.
I am not certain about what I might do in the future, but it seems to me as if there is no way out. With such treacherous familial relations, friends who I can not breakdown in front of, a person who I call "dad" not being here, all in all, adds on to it. I feel morbid and shallow. My life feels teary-eyed. I have lost my vision and I do not know what I desire any more. I got what I had desired but, it is lost too. So, everything feels "gone." It's all vanished somewhere. Into thin or thick air, I do not know. And to be honest, I do not have the strength or capacity to look for it any more.
I have lost all. I have given up on everything and myself. I do not know what I am going to do. I just want to be happy, like I used to be. Even the music that plays does not give me joy as it used to. Conversations with people tire me. I just want to be put to sleep forever. I do not want to wake up. I do not want to start over. I just want to be in a vacuum, with no thoughts in my head and not face any reality. It all felt like a surrealist art piece before, now it's just a realist art piece which I do not appreciate. But both of those movements have ended, question is, when will I? Will I have to make it happen? I do not know.
I am so scared.
I am so, scared.

Assurance

2:02 Am.

A cold and wet night. 15th October, 2014. 

I made it, to 19. 

Pretty much alive.

But I am not so sure any more.

I am not sure about anything. At all.

The past 7-8 months in my life have been tormenting and amazingly shaky. A part where I did not do anything, could do something but yet could not.

I am just not sure about anything any more.
I wish for something stable. Something I know that will last long. Something that I will stick to and I just am not able to find anything like that. Nothing is stable. Not me, not my life, not my mind, not my sight. I have a vision and an apparent goal but I do not know about that either. It is a very disturbing time in my life, one of the toughest phase in my life. Everything is so disturbed and distorted. Whenever I reflect back at my life, it feels as if I am looking through a prism, but except for seeing the white light turn into a spectrum, the light still remains white. I am afraid.

I am afraid and I am scared. I am a turmoil inside out. I am a storm, a hurricane, a tsunami. I am just scattered. I do not know where to pick myself up from. There is a lot going on my life but yet I feel so stagnant. I hate this feeling. I want to be dynamic and fast, like I usually am but nowadays, I am not even sure about what I am or who I am, any more.

I have gone through some major changes in my life recently which have made me, different. I have broken down to pieces, rebuilt and broken down day after day, night after night. I am a different person. I can feel it and it is hard, for me, for the first time in my life, to adjust to this change. It is hard.

I just want something stable. I just want some assurance that I will have something. All these years of independent living and behaviour, I want something stable. I want to know what I want to do. I want to know who I will be with in the time when I am "doing something with my life."  For the first time in my life I want to earn money, my potential wants to. I want to reach amazing heights but the only heights I can reach to are the buildings from which I might fall down, on purpose. I see skyscrapers but I do not work in them. I see tall figures but I do not work with them. I see inspiring activities but I am not a participant. I see coloured canvases on white walls, but not my creations. I want to be there. I wish I had something I was sure about. I wish. This is the first time I have ever been scared in my life of everything. I do not feel like taking risks but I still am. I pray daily, that I find some stability and some sort of acceptance. I might, in the near future, but will I be a part in that near future? I do not know. I do not know what I might do. Life is a gamble but not a casino. It's been tough. I wish I had stability, for the first time. I wish I had myself when I need me most- but I do not have me. 

The Breakdown

A tall figure of a recently grown girl,
Sinks to the ground in utter disbelief,
Her hand grasp her face so tight,
She does not live, she does not die.

Holds and idol against her breasts,
Which were fondled not only by her lovers,
Her eyes pouring out, her lashes fall,
She slams her head against the wall.

She screams in physical and mental pain,
She looks away, she looks disdained,
She wails like a little bitch in distress,
Yelping in pain, she rips off her dress,
Which was once the work of a man,
Who she loved- who she destroyed.

She takes the blame on herself,
She looks back at the things he did- things she said,
A wilted lover's memories in mind,
She sinks further into the bed- she cries,
Looking into the mirror, she does not recognise,
Her own image, the tears act as blinds.

Her eyes and face smeared with kohl,
She claims to have been here before,
She sinks into the bathroom floor,
Curled up in the foetal position, but not in her mother's womb.

She wished to be held by the one she loves,
But the one she loves says he needs to fuck,
Other women to build this love,
Which was not as strong for him as it were,
For her.

She wants to go ahead and die,
She goes to the fire escape and lies,
On the steps breaking her spine,
A sudden gush of fear in mind.

Her body is exhausted for the fifth time,
Passes out with her imbalanced behind,
She wants to cuss herself out loud,
But she does not because she is somehow proud,
Of herself and the things she's done,
And she expects nothing in return,
But just love from the man she loves,
But he just gave up. 

A conversation in a dimly lit street

I look into the void, left side, upward. Not facing a face or a car or house. But the night sky and the distraction of two street lights. I feel comfortable that way. I talk about memories which have built me. It is an intense night. I have felt this "off" before but this time, it was something which triggered deeper and less thought about thoughts. They poured in, one at a time. Every single sorrow I felt, as if I was feeling it again, all at one time. Timing, can be a horrendous thing. 

I sit between two cars, on the elevated curb, with a friend of mine. I hold a cigarette in my hand, royally, like I always do and bring it to my mouth, for a puff. The smoke feels like an extinguished form of joy. As if I just doused a fire inside me. That puff gave me time to put words into an understandable sentence. And so I begin to speak and he begins to, listen. 

The universal and most common question, "What did I ever do to deserve this?" as I take a look back at my 19 years of existence. I am in confusion. I never know the answer to this question. He says to me "You have to stop looking at things that way. It is not healthy." I keep looking upward. I do not face him. With a broken voice I say "No, I cannot stop looking at it that way. Believe me when I say it, I have never done anything so pathetic to deserve something as pathetic as my life has been." He replies promptly, definitely with an answer he already had in his head, "You have to stop beating yourself about it. It is all right. You have to learn to love yourself." I smirk half heartedly, let out a tiny chuckle and say, "Haha, you have no idea how much I love myself." to which he responds promptly, yet again, "No you don't. Asking this question is sign of it." I look at him, with some fury inside me, a broken girl replies to him, "Trust me, I fucking adore myself. I just don't show it to you." There is a moment of silent, I take the opportunity to go on. "If I did not love myself, I would not be sitting here, I would not be here. My happiness and myself are very important to me. It's different that I just choose not to show it to you because I lov-" I pause, choke, cough as an excuse and take another drag of the delicious tobacco, which once tasted like something nice. He looks into my eyes and he understood.

I look up again. I cannot look into his eyes without letting myself completely forget myself. I am vulnerable to him. I continue to speak, "Everything, I have been through, has been a disaster. You do not know what it is like to not have a childhood or a proper adolescence and being have to be an adult ever since you could remember. All I remember about me being a child is a grey and gloomy picture, smeared into my memory as if it was cereal in a child's tiny hand and he abused it instead of eating it. I remember a kiss, fingers and hands over my body, a feeling which children are not supposed to feel. While that passed, I grew into my adolescence, where I lost a life in my hand and I did not value that loss because I was receiving love from somebody special." He looks at me, I see it from my peripheral vision but I ignore it and I gaze into the street lights. "Do you know why I keep this phone with me?" I ask, inquisitively. He asks, "Why?" waiting for a probably stupid answer. I say "When I was 15, I needed a new phone and I was being a teenager about it. When my grandfather woke from coma, the first thing he said was, go and get the kid that phone." I peek a look at him. He looks astounded. He pulls me close and he puts my arm around his neck. I feel uncomfortable, physically, but emotionally and mentally, I felt.. loved. So I ignored my discomfort. I bring the cigarette to my mouth and look up again. "I cannot believe I did not mourn his death because I thought it was a sign that my previous lover came back to me the same day and today, we are not in talking terms." I say. He looks at me and tells me that he remembered this part. "I wondered why you always kept that phone with you."  he says looking pained. I reply to him, "I wondered too. But it wasn't until when I cracked it's screen yesterday, I realised why I kept it with me." He looks pained and empathised. "Come with me." - I look at him when he says that and I said "No." He insists. I ask him, "are you sure?" He responds with a firm and definitive yes. "We will share the cab. Let me drop you to your place." he adds. I say, "You do not have to do that you know, I will be fine. You know me." His response is not whimpered. "No. You will come with me. I have to drop my things at the apartment and get ready." I retorted, "I am not coming in the apartment." which he thought was a question. He says, "Nah, you should not, it will be overwhelming." I say, "That's exactly what I said. Should I wait here?" He looks at me, "No Jesus, don't wait here, you can wait outside the apartment. Come on now." I take the last puff, he takes the last puff of the cigarette. We both commence towards the painfully long stroll to his apartment, which I was a minute part of too, once.

We reach the apartment finally. All I thought about on my way was, why is he doing this for me. He has changed. I felt happy that he was doing this for me. I did not feel like a burden on him or anything. I initiate "I'll wait here by the stairs then." It's the building next to his. He says "Yes, this is all right. Do you need a cigarette?" I greedily reply, "Yes." He hands me over the box with 2 sticks inside it and the lighter. "Would you need my mace?" he asks. Before I could refuse, he hands it to my hand. "I will be 10 minutes. I need to brush my teeth and change shoes and stuff." I nodded and I it on the steps. There is a party going across the street. I look at those people and I am nostalgic about my life in Singapore and India. I used to be one of them, until I moved here, with hardly any friends and a bullshit law of not being able to go to bars before 21 years of age. I feel hurt. I listen to some of my favourite music but I am still not able to completely enjoy. I am scattered all over the place. I do not know where to pick myself up. Each moment I spent alone felt the same. I light up a cigarette and groove along to the music while I wait for him. I think, what would it have been like if we were on the same page. What would it have been like if he was as in love with me as I am in love with him. It would have been beautiful, right? I do not regret my decision of coming here. What I do regret is my behaviour. And being true to people who did not need it but seemed like they did. I sit in silence of my mind and I continue to smoke. And wait. After some 10-15 minutes, he comes out. "Hey, sorry I was too long. Let me book this cab." I just nod and stare at the concrete pavement. "Man, I really want to go to France." I say. "For Stromae?" He asks. I squeal with joy, "Hell yes! He's just 29 after all." He sounds somewhat sarcastic and displeased "Well, that makes it 5 more years apart. We're 7" I look at him with a funny expression, "We're 6 apart, dumbass. I'm 19, you're 25. With him, I will be 10 years apart" "Oh. Wait, but that means we're 7 years apart at some point of the year." I was hoping that he did not say that but he did. I look at him and say "Haha, yes, but luckily, our birthdays are close, so it's not for long." We both laugh and wait for the cab in silence.

The cab driver sounds Indian. By name and accent both. He might be Pakistani too. I did not ask. I was too exhausted to ask questions and receive answers to them. He apologises for being 2 minutes late. Both of us shrug it off. We enter the car and take our seats. It is a big SUV and really roomy. I sit at a distance from him. After the car starts to move, within half a minute, he pulls me towards him. I comply and take shift my arse from where I was sitting to right next to him. He puts his arm around me. I rest my head against his shoulder. I felt, safe and comfortable. But it was nothing more. It was love but not lovers. I keep quiet the whole time till we make it to my place. The car stops a bit further off from my apartment but it is okay. I look at him and I say goodbye. He hugs me, tightly, I hug him tightly too. "What will you do after this?" I look at him, look down and say, "Just try to go to bed. I cannot paint so yeah." "You should come to the next house party with me." He says. I cannot understand where that came from. Sympathy or love. I reply "We'll figure it out." and I smile. "Text me, okay?" he asks me. I smile and say, "You have a good night okay?" and make my way out. 

He's meeting someone for a date. 

Lost another lover, lost another part of mine.

6 months. Ever since February. I had been planning this move for 6 months.
I finally moved to Chicago on the 17th of August, 2014. 
I left my life in India and Singapore. I moved. Everything was in my favour until about August 10th when some really deep shit happened. 
I have been in love since I would say, July. Been infatuated since February.
6 months of daily planning and figuring my way out to be in Chicago for a thing called love. I chased my dreams and my wants and I am here, only to move out again. I am just 19 and I have seen so much shit in my life it is not even funny. My life is basically a sadistic comedy, humour of the darkest kind, in which I have a role to play but most of the reasons of why it is a dark humour has been other people.
I have always given way too much, to such an extent that there is nothing left for me.
I have, believe me. I have never broken a single heart, I have never screwed up with anybody's life. I have always done my best to help people in any way I could, even if they have never been nice too me. I have been hurt by doing the same so many times that I've lost count. I have never wished ill upon anybody but ill is just another word to describe my physical self and a huge part of my life. I have never cried about my life as much as I have ever since 2011. I have been in a very bad phase and I do not deny that there have not been good phases. There have, and it did feel amazing but it did not last. I have always tried to find happiness in everything and I did succeed a lot of times but now, I just, I just broke. I am just broken, shattered, tattered, numb, disorganised, devastated, afraid, ruined, scared, blank and vegetative. I have nothing to look forward to, when it comes to love, at least not for a while. By a while, I mean years.
I was so sure about this move, everything was good, everything was in my favour until one day when everything just changed. The tables turned and I knew they did. I choose to ignore it. I chose to, give another chance, to myself and to love. Yet again, I ignored my intuition. Well, I guess I did learn my lesson. I sure do hope that I did.
Many of you guys do not know what shitfuckery I have gone through recently, but those of you who do and have supported me, in whatsoever way, I am really thankful to you. I am really blessed to have such people in my life. I am not there for myself. This was the first time I spoke up against injustice towards me and it backfired. This event has scared me, has scarred me. And the effects look long term, to be honest.
The person I am in love with, considers himself to be just "some guy". Probably because I moved halfway across the world, left my family, my friends, my life behind for that person. Sure as fuck I am impulsive and I get what I need but man, as rash as I am, I would not just pack my bags and move myself to a country unknown to me, to a city which has nothing to do with me just for "some guy".
Interesting turn of events. Worst part was, my brain gave in too hah. That is how sure I was about all of this but man, I got smacked in the face by life, rather than pie or cake which I would have preferred, any day.
Today, I have decided to move to another city, get to my father who has not ruined my once but multiple times. I am going to leave Chicago. Fuck this has been hard on me but yes, it's another experience which I will learn from. I definitely will. I will not be able to give my whole heart to somebody for a while now. It just sucks. I feel innocent for the first time in my life. Everyone said that to me, that I was innocent, I denied, but now I see why they say it. I now see it all.
My face is burning, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes are numb, my fingers are laying all of this for you. Look at this ruined life, laugh about it, as most of you will, you know it. But guess what, I would still be there for you if you ever need me. Not because it's good karma but because it's in my nature. I forgive everybody, everybody. Sucks.
I feel innocent and young, for the first time in my life. I feel, completely helpless and I really am too. In the end what some people say to me was "it was bad timing." One of them even said to me "you were not in love" Haha. Of course I fucking was not.. Thank you for telling me that. Brilliant and remarkable.
I look to the left of my facebook profile. ANA Tokyo (Narita) Airport, about 4 months ago. That was my layover before coming to the States. I remember thinking to myself about how I got what I really wanted, needed and how made all ends meet. I remember a girl who had 3 changes of clothes in her bag feeling like she could conquer the world. I felt, wonderful. And today, the exact opposite of it. I feel hollow, but hey, I do feel.
I am just out of words and sorrow is the only emotion I have been feeling since August 29th. I do not know if this is going to inspire any of you to get your shit together or not, but I hope it does. I pray none of you have to go through what I went through. I really do. I hope you become strong each time you get hurt. I hope you will handle your life properly. I hope you will, love and get it right.
Feel lucky. Learn from my decisions. Do not make the same ones. Please do learn.

Another chapter has to begin, even if the previous one has not ended. I am hoping for something that is not going to be fixed. I am still praying but I do not know till when. I have to let go, again. What an adventure this life has been.

I miss you.
I missed you.

-excerpt from the adventurous life of divyataneja.

A cigarette in Chicago

Hey passerby,

I am smoking a cigarette in Chicago. 

I made it to Chicago,

I have got to give it to Chicago.

It is an evening in Chicago,

It is close to a day in Chicago.

I am trying to be poetic in Chicago,

I am a romantic in Chicago.

I am a building in Chicago,

I am an architect in Chicago.

I am a lover in Chicago,

I am a hater in Chicago.

I am a giver in Chicago,

I am a taker in Chicago.

I am a shitty philosopher in Chicago,

I am a dream come true, in Chicago.

I am in Chicago,

But I'll never be Chicago.

Assortment of a dull life

Hello there my 3 blogger followers
Today, I will present to you some pictures I clicked some time back
It's called the "assortment of a dull life" because that is what my past 3 months have been, quite frankly
To have an eye for something ordinary has always been my thing
So here you go, pix

Untitled yet again

Tall buildings and big dreams,
Wild camels to clear streams,
A backup plan in front of me,
A plan of action behind this sheet.
Fancy shoes and clear cuts,
Clear roads but afraid of,
Standing tall in front of trees,
Kneeling down in front tall walls.
Black ink and a chilly wind,
Month of July, summer is in,
Lady in black with gold jewels,
Man in white with a dark soul.
Looking across in brown shades,
Waiting for the moment to get laid,
A cigarette butt is on the ground,
A lady's butt in front of the crowd.
No purpose but a twisted mind,
Look in front, look behind,
Another moment passes by,
She doesn't live, she doesn't die.
A yellow sheet with blue lines,
A red one, on the side,
This margin tells me I'm on the other end,
A shot at freedom, yet denied.

Together.

She was as pretty as,
A mid summer's night dream.
The only catch was that,
It is a cold winter morning,
And she's right here in front of me.

Adoxography

Adoxography: Beautiful writing on a subject of little or no importance

I'm exhausted.
These past few days, I have not been able to sleep. In the nights.
The rays of the Sun in the morning are unbearable.
I sleep diagonally, on my king sized bed, made for two, used by one, feels for one.
My room is pretty cosy. That is probably because of the mess that is all around. I have two broken almirahs. One, done by me, One done by I don't know who, but I think I was about 5 or something. I've seen broken things since I was small. But no one got it repaired because it's hardly of any use. It's a steel grey steel almirah, with nothing but some old files, books, electronic crap and of course, childhood pictures, where my brother's  pictures outnumber mine. Clearly I was the lesser loved child. Clearly. But as clear as this was, my room is not. It was a wreck. But I like it the way it is. Except for those voices which come out at the middle of the night, sometimes of plastic swirling on the ground or something falling off from my 2 racks which are full of clothes. Sometimes, I fear that the luggage and other stuff packed in suitcases and cardboard boxes will fall on me while I am sleeping but I do nothing about it. Simply because, it has not fallen down on me, yet.
I kind of still like it.

So, since the past few days, I have been using my sleepless nights as a platform to start practicing on my sketching. It still looks like crap but you gotta push yourself. Today is one such night. Just, I am a bit sick. Down with a bit of cold and fever, due to being so exhausted. Nothing serious.
I was doing a figure study today. Basically, sketching the female torso. I was nervous at first as this was my first time but it was essential. So I picked up my 2D and 3D staedtler pencils (I lost all the others) and got to work. After drawing some basic sketches, I logged on to my facebook, in hope of seeing a "hey" from this person, who shall be talked about later, probably when you meet me in person.
I did not get a hey.
But what I got in return is priceless.
I found a new word.
Adoxography.

Facebook for me is not just a social networking site where I chit chat with people, write on their walls, fill my walls with my crap and stuff like that. Facebook to me now is something like an instant newspaper or magazine. It has everything, the latest news, political, geographical, whatever.. It is the platform of showing me what my younger and older generation is up to. It is for me, a new level of dictionary. Most importantly, it is for me, the stage where all the like minded people come together and have open discussions about almost everything. Starting from how is the food is in this restaurant to what the meaning of life and death is. It's got it all covered.
But today, it acted like an inspiration.
It gave me a new word and also the inspiration to write this post.

So, the word, Adoxography.
I found this on this page I liked called 'Wordporn'. (well adding porn to stuff like food, word etc seems to be the new trend)
This word is so new to me and probably to most of us (unless of course you saw it on wordporn already) that my computer is failing to recognise it and underlines it with a red squiggly line, which determines that it's a spelling mistake, like most of our names are to this piece of technology, one being mine. The replacement of the word is even more remarkable.
It's Radiography, haha.

So, getting back to Adoxography. It's meaning is 'beautiful writing on a subject of little or no importance.'
As complex as the word looks, as complex is its meaning. Well at least to me. Let me explain why.
It says it's a piece of beautiful writing on a subject of little or no meaning. Now the first question that popped in my mind after reading this was, "what can the subject be?". Interesting, is it not? The subject can differ from a person to person. For me, the first "subject" that came to my mind was, the most cliched and the most overthought (not sure if it's a word but what is the harm in creating one) topic, Love.
Now well, I know, most of you might think that what kind of a lame subject is that. When it is so talked about and so cliched, so "overthought", how can it have an Adoxography? Well, to some of you, it may be of a lot of importance. But to me, it is merely a word, an emotion, which I have felt and certainly do not wish to feel again.
Love.

It rips you off. It's like a thug. It will steal your soul, rip your confidence, it will bring you down in ways not imaginable, it's an emotion which has given birth to many other emotions. But yet, everybody wants it. I did too. I got it. And boy, I can tell you, I am done. So for me, love, the most talked about, cliched, and "overthought" topic is something meaningless and something which I am definitely not getting a hold on to in the future.
Love.

Whenever I see someone talk about it, how they feel, how love feels, I cringe a little. It's that feeling you get sometimes, like someone is squeezing your stomach. It's just that this time, it's not my stomach, it's my face. I feel bad for them because in the end, GOD FORBID, if something happens, they fall out of it, he falls out of it, she falls out of it, somebody quits loving, What will they feel? What will they do, then? Will they start hating, or hold on to loving, finding the right one, risking their heart and emotions who could do the same thing which was done to them earlier, or something worse.
Now if it works out between the two, it's all good, it's brilliant. For them love is the most essential thing. It makes them happy. I on the other hand, after my battered heart decided to love again, not necessarily a man, or a woman or an animal, anyone and everyone, I could not. Because usually most of them gave me the reason not to. So I gave up on love. So I gave up on,
Love.

Now you may think that I should not be so critical about things, but hey, that's just the way "love" has made me. However everything about love is not bad. I like the whole concept of being pampered and treating once correctly, which I have started doing to myself, recently, like staying in, watching movies and having ice cream and sketching and waiting for the "hey" which instantly brightens me up. But that's not love, or maybe it is, but it's still a rare topic for me. One, which is of very little value or no value at all.
But my wait, for that little "hey" is of no value to the person who I need to hear it from. I am just mere. So are our conversations, so is my affection.

So for him, probably I am an Adoxography.
Well at least, I get to be beautiful in some way...

Oh Lord what have I done.