Expectations.

I think it’s easier to live by Dale Carnegie’s secret, don’t you?
Because, I often worry what I’d do if things don’t turn out the way I expect them to,
Be it the outcome of an examination I’ve taken,
Or the response to something I’ve written –
Disappointments stop me from trying,
They stop my brain from thinking,
So, every time now, I find myself preparing for the worst that can happen;
For the heartbreaks, for the setbacks, for the unrequited anticipation –
Trusting, it’d prepare me enough to help me take failures in my stride, hoping, it’d give me the strength to get back on my feet,
And wishing, it’d help my every success taste more concrete.

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I’ll see you soon, on the other side?

I live in a world far away from yours, inside my head,
In my world, “The Boy Who Lived” actually lives, in flesh and blood,
Mr. Half Blood Prince isn’t just a memory of the past,
And, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, they are still pretty steadfast,
They are as real in my world, as much as you and me –
I’m sometimes, with Hermione in the Hogwarts library,
Sometimes, with the Weasley Twins at Honeydukes, sipping Butterbeer,
Sometimes, with Harry and Ron and Professor Trelawney, checking if one of us is a real seer,
Sometimes, with Luna, chasing the wrackspurts away,
Sometimes, at the Quidditch stands, watching Ginny play,
Hey! Don’t you think I’m taking you for a ride
Take a peek into my realm of reality – I’ll see you soon, on the other side!

Cling on.

You say what’s once broken can’t be fixed again,
You say there’s no way you can erase the pain,
You talk of cracks and distances, you speak of ties that can’t be mended,
You talk of hurt that was not entirely unintended,
But, I want you to reach out, I want you to cling on,
I want you to stay, I want you to wait before you decide to call it all a bygone,
Because, despite all the chaos and the scuffle,
Who says what’s broken can’t be beautiful?

What will I do without thee?

I met you first when I was fifteen,

You brought into my life that missing pop of light and sheen,

Ever since, there’s no looking back – I search for you first thing in the morning,

Because, my mornings, you make them bright, you bring, in them, the bling,

My world blacks out without you, and everything becomes a blur,

For it is you, that gives me hope, it is you that brings me my spur,

There’s not a moment that I’m awake and you ain’t with me,

Oh my half frame, horn-rimmed glasses, what would I do without thee?

You, are enough.

She often stands in front of the mirror and despises what she sees in it,

For she sees in it, a failure, she sees in it, an embodiment of flaws,

She finds in it a lacking, a longing, a wanting, a desperation to be someone,

Someone who she would want to look up to –

Someone, who’d be happy in her fragile, patchy skin,

Someone, who’d walk her talk and own her flaws,

Someone, who’d win her fears to reach the stars,

Someone, who’d learn to fight her wars and be proud of her scars,

Someone, who’d look for sunshine in her rainbows,

Someone, who’d believe, she, is enough.

Don’t.

Don’t tell her she can’t –
Don’t push her down and tell her what she should want,
Don’t shatter her will into a million tiny fragments, and tell her she wasn’t meant for it anyway,
Don’t break her confidence, and then belittle her to stay,
Don’t ask her to stop, or persuade her to let go,
Don’t force a yes out of her every no,
Don’t ignite her into a flame of ashes, and ask for her fire,
Don’t reduce her to a pool of tears and become her pacifier,
Don’t peek into her flaws and tell her who she is,
Don’t define for her, her definition of bliss.

She lived because…

She wasn’t a great conversation starter –
She was, in every instance one can think of, a party pooper,
She was an introvert of the highest possible order,
Crowds, they scared the daylights out of her,
The people, their questions, their what, why and when,
The awkward pauses, the callous smiles that screamed for attention,
The “Long time, no see”, “Let’s catch up when you’re free”,
“Oh, how much I missed thee!” were definitely not her cup of tea,
As for her, she lived in a world of her own –
In a world she had wantonly known,
She lived, between the pages of her favourite book, breathing in their scent,
She lived amidst characters albeit fictious, but incandescent,
She lived, with their conversations in her head,
She lived, because, they, in her world, existed.