Open Heart Surgery
The man I called ‘Mr.Everyday’ broke my heart and other things.
The man I called ‘Mr.Everyday’ broke my heart and other things.
The first week of June spells pre-monsoon showers in Mumbai.
How am I? It’s pain like I cannot even begin to articulate. So much that I’m numb. A thick sheet of plastic over a boiling cauldron of black, festering poison. That’s me.
A cry of pain. The ten thousand fragments of my heart are the least of my worries when I’m a skinned being.
Unfollowed him today. It felt like the right time and way to do it. I let go of my hurt with great difficulty. Today was that day, though, and I’m not going to feel stupid about it. It may seem sad and pathetic that I feel the need to chronicle…
Because I’m in a rare confessional mood and it’s past midnight and I can’t think of anything great to say or I’ve said so much of it in my earlier posts today and I’m saving it up for the week. Or because I’ve just read Thought Catalog and a healthy…
You don’t get to excuse yourself from the life table if you’re still partaking of its delights. Are you an introvert or just a narcissist?
I’m reclaiming my right to write. There’s much I’ve felt and been and heard and wanted to say but didn’t. A relationship, an engagement, a bitter breakup…aren’t all of these fodder for a feeling writer? And yet I’ve been quiet. I’ve been under a self-imposed gag order that no one…
Your heart is a barren wasteland. It’s where dreams go to die. And hopes have a masochist side. But there’s no going back for me now.
I was thrown out of the house that I labored to find and turned into a home. There will never be forgiving someone without a heart.