Month: November 2015

Origami heart- Little Poem #24

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“Your love is like glue,
For my origami heart.
May we never ever have to part…”
-Fictionatrix

(For the curious, you don’t really need glue while making things in origami, as it is the art of folding paper.
However, one can and does use glue to hold the folded parts a little more firmly and to make the ensemble more durable.

Which is what I think love to be.
It doesn’t define me, doesn’t make me, but it does help in holding me together. 🙂 What do you think? Let me know! )

(Spending my time making cute origami heart bookmarks when I should be studying for exams. Then writing poems on them, taking artistic pictures, posting them on the blog, writing a detailed description of my procrastination! C’est la vie! 😛 )

– Fictionatrix

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What Depression Feels like? -Spoken Word

Recently, a very dear friend of mine scolded me for whining for attention when everything seems all sorted in my life. I couldn’t make them understand what it feels like. But to vent my emotions I wrote this piece.

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You ask me, What depression feels like?

Do you know that feeling.
When you are at the top of a roller coaster, and your heart is racing fast. And you get that sinking feeling as you descend.
Depression is being strapped on a roller coaster without my consent
Seeping into the depths of nothingness.

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Like a rock being thrown from a cliff but the land’s no where to be seen. 
There is a blackhole in my stomach which is swallowing me, bit by bit, organ by organ. 
Till one day when I shall finally collapse into my self. 
I feel that I will implode and internally combust, turning into the darkness I desperately want to avoid

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You ask me what depression feels like?

It feels like being on a reality show where everyone is judging you for your mere existence.

It feels like being in a boxing ring against Rocky, blood streaming from my nose. It feels like sleepless nights and panic attacks, nausea and migrain. 

Its like a dementor follows me day and night, giving me kisses robbing me.of my happiness and my soul, bit by bit.

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You say I hurt myself to gain attention
Please know that the pain on the inside is so strong that pain from the outside has no meaning.
That there is so much to feel that I feel nothing at all. 

Your suffering, and your pain,
is my “normal“… so much so that I am now numb to it all.
That I hurt myself just so that I can get some sense of feeling.

For when a loved one dies I do not cry cannot cry, but simply hope;
That I was in their place,
No one asks to be in this space.

Depression is years of guilt for doing nothing wrong but feeling otherwise.
It is being convicted for fabricated crimes being jailed within my own incompetence. 

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Depression is being lost within myself.
With no where to go.
I am going through hell,
and I try not to show.

So when you order me to get over it and tell me it isn’t real.
Depression is the silence of friends and love I never get to feel.

– Fictionatrix

Ghost of a memory

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Those of you who read my blog regularly would remember that I lost my dearest friend to Cancer last year. The past one year has been a roller coaster that only goes down.

I had thought Time would heal the pain, but this wound, this burden seems to only tighten my chest and clog my windpipe.

There is a battle between my rational mind which continues to suppress all that I remember…and my emotional heart that tries to hold on to whatever that is left.

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Leading to what I’d like to call Ghosts of memories. Because my mind keeps pushing and my heart keeps latching onto.
These memories are therefore like spirits..an essence of the time gone by.
They float in and out of my consciousness, and take me by surprise. They infiltrate my daily life and haunt me at night.

They are unclear and fuzzy. Blurred at the edges.
They never recede, never subside.
Like moisture on the coast after a high tide.
They come from no where and disappear without trace.
Somewhere into the nothingness of space.

I am in a state of Limbo, I belong to neither side. This tugg of war leaves me physically breathless.
Is there a way to chase these ghosts away?
Is there a way to bring them back to life?

– Fictionatrix

A world of love <3

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A couple photo bombing my frame at the right time! ❤

I imagine a world of love. Yes, it may seem utopian but it is not unachievable.
A world of love. Where everyone lives in peace. When there is no need to check borders, for everyone is welcome. Where we all have what we need. Where no person is made to feel less human. Where dreams are not caged in fear.
Not just a city of love, but a world of love. For every city on this planet is not only made up of buildings, and roads and monuments, but of heartbeats, dreams, aspirations, hope and of people.

Hearing about the blasts in Paris, broke my heart. So did Beirut, Lebanon, Baghdad and Turkey.

Our world today is run on western consumerism. So while Paris received a lot of love,(facebook filters, monumental dedications, media coverage) other regions had to struggle for media representation.

There seems to be a hierarchy of deaths-some lives matter more.
(Read white lives matter more)

This is wrong.
Every life matters! Equally.
Every heartbeat, lost counts.
We live in a world today where people have no boundaries and terrorism has no religion. Death doesnt discriminate on skin colour, on nationality, then why should love?

My heart goes out to the friends and families of these people.
And to the 4 million Syrian refugees who were running from the same terror which has found them in Europe.
May their hosts treat them with kindness.

The future seems bleak, and fearfull.
But the solidarity that the world showed in the wake of these blasts was somewhat reassuring. I hope we can all learn from such experiences.

A few days back, I was walking down the street, in a sad mood when I was alone on the footover bridge, lit by the golden streetlights. As I was taking the picture, a couple unintentionally photobombed the image, singing old love songs merrily. The fact that I got to witness the moment and even capture it, is a wonderful blessing for me.

In the light of the recent terror across the world, it made me thank God for his grace. ❤

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We often take things for granted.
Use this experience, call a long lost friend, call your parents. Let your loved ones know that you care.
Who knows it might be too late.

Special love to all my readers, please take care of yourselves. Each and everyone of you who reads my thoughts is a blessing to me. You have no idea how much it means to me that people across the world, not only take the time to read, but also relate to what I think at some level.  God bless. :’)

– Fictionatrix

Graveyard of Stars- Self Portrait

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Remember,
That girl with the wild laughter?
That masked away, her pains, her scars.
The girl with those twinkling eyes.
Her heart was a graveyard of stars…

(I wrote these lines a couple of days ago in a poem titled – Who is she (you can find it on the blog, recent past)
These particular lines have stuck with me, inspiring me to create this double exposure image.)

Created using the Diana app
Images from a Micromax Canvas A1

– Fictionatrix