PUNCTUATIONS...

Those unsent letters

Half unwritten poems

Those times when you just want to complete the puzzle but you're scared that something unexpected might turn up.

Should I? Or should I not?

All those nights when you sit by you sit by your window looking at the grey sky and asking yourself if you even belong in this face of the world. Do you? Maybe. Maybe not.

Every time you watch a candle turn into a heap of wax you realise that once you're asleep, you wouldn't really matter anymore. Would you? You don't think so. You just hope you would, really.

Every time you're pushed down you ask yourself what you're even awake for. Do you think you really needed that? Yeah, me neither.

Those times when you loose a person who meant everything to you. Your everybody.You wonder if they sit up all night thinking about it as well, or they're just getting on with it. Did you ever really matter to them? You pray that at some point, you did.

Those grey nights where you curl up by window with a cold cup of hot chocolate and ask yourself these questions you know that you're never going to get the answers to. You get so frustrated that you just want to go to sleep but you really want to know if you'd at least mean something after you close your eyes. You feel the blood boil in you and the silence pierces through your ears and your head feels like exploding and you tell yourself to STOP! 
Silence. You want it. But you don't.
Breathe. You don't know to. Not anymore.
Why? You ask. Why haven't you fixed the last pieces yet?
You want answers. Full stops. 
But all you do is watch yourself drown in an ocean of questions and right at that point,
you find yourselves asking another one:
Afterlife? Maybe. Maybe Not.

~Esha xo

The weather has finally changed into my favorite season of the year. Grey skies, cold nights, peaceful evenings. Finally done away with summer. Is it weird that, for me, dull days are a lot happier than bright sun-shiny ones. Something about the sound of  heave rain, soft thunder and people walking through puddles puts me at ease. It's almost as if the rain makes people miss each other. Or maybe I'm just finding excuses, to stop and stare- get lost in my own thoughts, before I realise there's miles to go before I sleep. I guess truth lies in handwritten letters and small pieces of paper we hide away for safe-keeping- the truth washes away with the rain and dies as this season ends. And most of us will never find it.
~Nidhi xo