Nineteen :)

Nineteen leaves me stuck somehow-
dangling precariously
between

The dignified glory of adulthood 
and the delicious nonchalance of childhood.

Nursing nostalgia for school 
and dreading the end of college years.

A reminiscence of summer break laughter 
and a fear for all those “Farewell” tears.

Between

Being too old for uniforms 
and too young for corporate suits.

An overwhelming urge to catch rainbow hued butterflies 
and looking for internships to bolster my CV.

A craving for the biggest piece of chocolate truffle 
and the realization that I have put on weight.

Between

A desire for company 
and the will to fight it out alone.

A compulsive obsession to figure all of it out at once 
and mood swings that do not let me get out of bed.

Between
Me and myself.

Nineteen leaves me clueless.

There are so many choices to choose from 
That sometimes I have no choice but to choose 
What I would rather not choose 
Just because… I am nineteen.

The last of my teens- 
The trickiest of my teens.

I am no longer a child 
not quite a grown up either-

Simply nineteen.

Insecurities

Insecurities

Wash over me

Like winter rains...

Dripping,
emptying me of themselves,
only to collect
in puddles
at the bottom of my feet

And

in those puddles,
I glimpse again,

Reflections of them
Of me...

Having left, they never did leave
Like rains go back
To being rains.

My insecurities stay,
looking up at me
as if,
through my own eyes.

My insecurities
sweep over me,
drenching me as I try
to step away in vain;

Insecurities hurt-
A sharp, bitter pain.
Insecurities hurt
like the winter rains...

On Writing!

That is the beauty and the curse of writing.

It helps me erase who I was,but confines me to who I am.

It helps me mask my pain from the piercing gaze of the world, yet, it leaves me vulnerable to my own darkest face.

It saves me the trouble of explaining things to everyone, yet, pushes me towards a confrontation with my self.

It gives me answers that questions cannot question. Yet, it leaves behind a search that just does not end.

It tells me I can share my pain with the world, while reminding me that there are some burdens that need to be borne alone.

It has won me admiration, awe and applause. Even love. But it fails to explain the sense of loss, of emptiness, of inadequacy that has come to settle inside me.

Writing fills me with all I need, but it has taken away all I had...........

Prayers

Simple Scribbles # 7

Stories!

Simple Scribbles # 6