If Tears Could Think

She had been trying to hide me all day long.

Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling. To an outsider it may seem as though she’s listlessly staring at the wall but I know what she’s really looking at. All the memories are played by her mind and she relives it all; the joy and the sorrow.
She is watching him walk out on her and her mother for the billionth time. The memory evokes longing for a father she never saw. She bites her lip to keep me from getting out.

Hang in there, she’s telling herself over and over again. Her hands are tightened in fists as I tickle the back of her eyes. “No” she whispers under her heavy breath.

In a distance the screeching sound of the breaks of a car are heard. The leaves rustle against her window sill as the soft breeze caresses them. The dark night resonates her mind but I hope she can see the faint flicker of stars at night and begin to live again.

She holds her breath, she knows I’m making my way out.
She forces me to stay one last time but gives in eventually. She closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. As I trickle down her cheek I hear her thoughts, Why am I so weak?
Trickling softly down her flesh I wish I could tell her how strong she really is. It takes courage to let me go. As I bid farewell silently, I pray that she will remember me someday when she’s happy.

Cry,please,
Free those tears.
The pain will ease,
Melting your fears.

Remember them again,
When happiness blooms.
This isn’t the end,
You’ll know it soon.

-Nameera.

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Fly

If you had wings,
Would you let them destroy you?

Or would you rather fly,
Exploring skies unknown?

Don’t give up hope just because you don’t have wings. You don’t need them to fly. All you need is a heart brave enough to endure your differences and make them your strength.

A state of mind

“Her lips traced her laughter, her lungs could barely contain the joy”.

The music was loud and people I called my friends laughed with me. A minute has passed and we’re still cracking over some lame joke. An incongruous feeling settles deep inside my heart. I feel it getting stronger with each passing minute.
I’m still laughing while my mind plays flashbacks that I thought I had forgotten; old faces and memories still reside safely in the back of my head.

My heart can barely take it. The images inside my head are so vivid I don’t know what’s real anymore. I’m choking on my laughter. I’m happy, right?

Laughing doesn’t help me forget anymore,
It only brings back memories I love and loathe.

Dreams.

There was once a time when i dreamt with my eyes closed, of things beyond imagination.
With age, wit & so called wisdom; transient waters of time washed away those winsome eyes.
All that remains, are dreams. Yes, dreams that we see with open eyes, that are nothing but a reflection of reality.
The very purpose of dreaming has been seemingly lost along tides of time, every corner of our minds sees only those dreams that reality can confine.

Inspiration for All Rounders.

What truly inspires us?
Now that, folks is a question that nobody really asks themselves. We’re always searching for inspiration and looking up ways on the internet to stay hooked onto one thing. Sometimes, we even narrow down our perspective to the point where we believe that there is only one thing that can truly inspire us. At least I used to think that way. Until I realised that it would never work for me. I’ve seen people draw inspiration from one thing like; there are writers out there who can always pen down their feelings, artists who find peace through a canvas, doctors that love saving people’s lives and social workers who put others interests before there own.
Yet what of those people who don’t fall in just one category but many? I happen to be one of those people. Leonardo Da Vinci was too. Well, I’m not comparing myself with him but it’s quite evident that people like me and him leave things incomplete. The irony lies in the fact being an all rounder; almost completely talented at everything leaves less space for a complete outcome. I start writing stories and never complete them. I’ve tons of artwork that’s mostly painted half. When I was in school, I’d at times leave a tiny chapter at the end of the syllabus for no specific reason. It just made me feel like I was doing the right thing; I was being myself. So, what truly inspires people like us?
Since I haven’t had a chance to meet many people like me (just my mom and a best friend) I’ll try to answer this as best as I can though it’s going to be based on my personal experiences.

1. Remember, inspiration isn’t a concept confined by singularity.

So, you don’t just have to be good at just one thing to be inspired. It is a very wide concept. You can define it in your own way. You can be an artist, a writer or a social worker. Focus on your present, what do you feel like doing right now? Writing, painting, studying( I don’t know most people that enjoy this but I do; I don’t mind being called a nerd), helping people, doing chores, cleaning your room, dancing, playing video games, watching a movie, and there are countless ways to get going.
2. Drawn from feelings.

If you don’t figure out what you’re feeling then how could you find inspiration? But I do get it. At times we don’t feel inspired. The real problem is that we don’t know what we’re feeling. So, give yourself sometime and try to seek the hindrance making you feel down or lazy. Having patience and simply thinking can work wonders unless you end up over-thinking which could drain out all your energy.
3. Know yourself.

I strongly believe that it’s important to know oneself. Because inspiration is truly a personalised concept. If you don’t know your hidden talents and aspirations; you might have a hard time finding inspiration because it’s all inside you. To do this, try new things. Surprise yourself and who knows, inspiration might be waiting for you right around the corner.
4. Have an open mind.
Lastly,think big. This is helpful in almost all situations in life. Don’t go around thinking that you’ll always be the same or you can never do a certain thing. Like, if you have stage fright then you feel that you’ll never be able to speak up. At the end of the day, you’ll be fine. Are people telling you that introverts and extroverts are meant to do different things? Like, the former can write well and the latter are good at public speaking; that’s just plain stupid. There’s no such thing that only certain people are made for certain talents. You can be whoever you want to be, if you have what it takes it achieve it.

So, all these are just my notions about drawing inspiration being an all rounder.

Letting Go.

In my first post I wanted to delve into the aspect of letting go.

Often we end up getting confused between two questions- ‘How to let go?’ and ‘When to let go?’.

Lately I’ve been teaching myself the concept of letting go. You see, that’s where I went wrong. It’s not a concept but an art. How, you might ask.

What are poems or artwork? Is it something that an artist forces himself to feel to paint the canvas with vibrant colors? Can poems be weaved together if the poet has no feelings?

All emotions when channelised towards a medium, be it paper or a canvas, contribute to art.

Not only does it relieve us of our pain but also helps to clear our minds.

Previously I was trying to grasp the logic behind letting go, I decided to approach it later as an art. I starting putting down my thoughts. Words made the whole process easier than any consolation, pity or piece of advice I might have been bestowed with.

Letting go

It was like pricking your finger on a thorn,
While you could always caress the rose.

For me, this was letting go,
Of past, comfort and hope.