To My Ex- Best Friend

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

You called yesterday, it would be unfair if I said that it didn’t matter to me, or that I never hoped you would call. I did, I prayed to all gods, all mortals wanting to be gods, all myths and all temples, that one day, we’d meet on the street and hold hands like lost lovers, finding their way back home. I hoped for alot of things, crying, screaming, regretting, hugging each other to oblivion. What I did not expect was- nothing. I didn’t account for nothing. It never crossed my mind that I would respond the way I did. I was, for once in my lifetime, mature. Not because someone expected that of me, but because  it was the best way I could react. It would also be unfair to say that your call did not move me and make me tremble. I did not cry myself to sleep as I had once thought I would. I didn’t make art out of my misery, I didn’t loose my sanity; but I wasn’t all that sane either.

You did in fact make me cry. I dont suppose that is why you called. At least I hope not, but the next day, once the initial shock had glossed over, once I could revisit my decisions, you did make me cry. I chose a life I hated because I thought that would make me stronger, but no one ever told me that happiness is worth more than dollars. I wish you would have. I wish you would have talked me out of it, out of changing schools, out of entering a field I hated for money, out of all the bad decisions I made. But I often forget, that it was me that pushed you away. You make me loose my train of thoughts my love. You always did that. At one point, I knew you’d continue to do that. You’d continue to be mine, and me yours. I never accounted for reality. I was a kid back then, you were always more mature. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blocked you, I should have told you the things I was writing and thinking about. I should have mentioned once that I wanted to cease my existence because it all seemed too much. But I was just a child. I couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t know what to say.

I wanted to live up to the expectations the world put on me. Sometimes I think that you were the only one that made me want to live without any restrictions. You made me want to fly. With you, I’d want to run through a sunflower meadow, my hair let loose, my glasses lying somewhere on a tree, in a dress, or maybe in some loose tees. You made me want to be- be without expectations. In some ways you let me prosper. We use the word rather loosely though, prosper. We put that everywhere, I’ve seen. In birthday wishes and wedding anniversaries. I dont think many people really do live upto the meaning of prosper. I haven’t either, but when we were each others best friends, you made me want to choose for myself. You were influential, even if you were unaware. I’m so thankful for the time we spent together, and will always be regretful for leaving us barren. In some ways, I really did love you. I just never had the words to say it.

Words and me have a tough relationship. They come to me when I’m trying not to say, not to think. But leave me when I am gasping for help. Maybe somewhere when I was young, I just hoped you would read my mind. And now that I know alot more than I did before, I’m sorry. I truly am. This sadness that I have been feeling, ever since you called, this is something I will take to my grave and beyond. And if my pain has a little bit of you in it, then it’s worth being remembered every single day. 

The thing is, you called yesterday. And we talked for a while, and we discussed life. And it’s insane how in the pursuit of being the ‘bigger’ person when I was little, I forgot to be little when I was bigger. Our story doesn’t end here, at least I hope it doesn’t. I hope one day I’ll meet you on the streets of London, maybe Mumbai, or maybe a quaint little town in Karnataka. Somewhere in this universe, we’ll make space for ourselves. We might have to push around a little, scoot over maybe, but I promise that this time, I won’t ghost the one good thing that I once had. I promise that this is not a one time wonder. I promise you, this is a sparkle of defiance in the universe meant to crash, and it’ll be ok since you’ll be there. Right there, with me.

Sending love and hope, 

Your ghost. 

words, money and me

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

this is an old rant I wrote and I like it alot so here we go!

I’d been reading since I was little. A little girl with nothing to my name other than the stories I made up. I wanted to be a writer when I was a child, inspired by what I was taught in my books. All the chapters, all the characters. I thought that was it, the 15 chapters that made up my 4th grade book. They were the epitome of imagination. When I was a little older, in my later years in middle school, I went to the library. My eyes wide, I couldn’t possibly believe it. So many pages, with an infinite amount of knowledge. It scared me. Intimidated me. But I picked up a book. I read what the author wanted to say and in my childish fantasies I thought I understood the deep symphonies of words. I didn’t, but the idea that I did, it fuelled my brain and my hands to turn more pages. I became engrossed in writing and reading and later on, listening. Words, they became my solace. I couldn’t say alot when my father started drinking,  I could barely listen to him. So I turned to my beloved once again. Stories of children my age, going on heists, living in fantasy worlds, loving. 

Loving. 

I never saw real love in the universe I lived in. For the most of my life, I did not believe in love. All I believed in was, mutual satisfaction. Understanding maybe, but mutual compromise and gain. Profit and losses. I hated numbers ever since I was little, but they made more sense than words saying how the prince died for the princess. Words started to look like myths and mysteries. I realised that I only ever thought that I knew what love was. And I only ever thought that logic made no sense. I thought I was artistic, but to be artistic and to be imaginative and to understand what the author meant, a person needs to be open to ideas. Hate, revenge, jealously, envy, I could understand. I had seen them. But love. That was not, That is not, what I consider real. 

If love was real, then someone, someone I knew had to be in love. I know multiple people, many claim to be in love but all I really see is opportunists. They trained me, the world I lived in, it trained me to hate, to work for myself and to be content with it. Because although it looked like people cared about each other, it wasn’t ever about religion, or beliefs. Love or hate. It was about power. Because it was about fear. With fear comes power, with power; money and that is what everyone respects. It never mattered that women were allowed rights or not, if sexualities were allowed to love or not. It was about opportunity. About taking away power. Before the construction of institutions, we confined some ‘defaults’ and the whole of humanity just- rolled with. 

Women in the kitchen, men out in the open. Women and Men having intercourse and then children. Women take care of the children and men earned money, made institutions more powerful. Women could cry, although they did ‘no real work’ and men couldn’t show vulnerability. Women could not love women. Men had to be in a competition with other men. White people held power, people of colour worked for them, not with them. The more money one had, the more respect one gets. We never enabled our women to earn and then we go on to cry for equal rights. Rights are not earned, is what I’ve seen. Rights are directly proportional to the money you make. One does not have to fight for rights, only for money. It’s all math and we act as if we care about emotions. About art. About words. 

Words are just little symbols on little pages in little books. You can destroy words, just like you can destroy a little girl’s wish to become a writer. Because the little girl grew up. She became greedy after money because the more money someone had, she saw, the more respect they got. 

She left her words and her books alone, because eventually, it all comes down to simple maths. Earning dollars, spending pounds. 

The girl is not me though. I grew up even worse. Did I give up my dream of writing and exploring and sharing my words? Yes, of course, I live in capitalism. Did I give up on love? Yes of course, I am from the  50% of families that end up getting divorced. Did I do it for someone else? For society? 

Yes. Yes I did. Because I’ve finally learnt to live in it. To understand the symphonies of words. Words tell us to be kind, to respect, but Ive understood that is false. 

Love and hate and jealousy and revenge, all are equal. 

Love just had more money. 

men cannot cry

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir 
And then he wasn’t the same
He cried alone at night because 
Men aren’t supposed to tear away
Its shameful, its a sin
You cannot be vulnerable, 
You cannot be sufferable
Men cannot be defenceless
Men cannot be fragile
Because the moment you show that you are helpless
The gods will believe you are not suffice
But is it really so bad as to be sensitive?
To be open and cry
Because I’ve tried both ways of living
And it takes guts to be weak and 
Admit that without being high.

So the story behind this is kinda sad, there is this one guy in my chemistry class that was telling a story in a free period about one of his injuries, he was telling how deep it was and how much blood he lost, although when I asked him about why he smashed his hand in glass in the first place he said something along the lines of ‘ah my family- never mind its not important’ and it killed me to see how painful the memory is, or would have been for him. I’m not that close to him and I couldn’t or rather, shouldn’t have pried deeper and I didn’t. But I did mention it to one of his friends, I couldn’t even go to the teacher because I dont think he would like it or appreciate it, he has a ‘bad boy’ aura about him, but I’ve never seen him bully anyone or do anything wrong, so its more of a ‘tough guy, won’t cry’ situation. You know how teenage boys are, the typical kind. So basically I wanted him to cry, because I know he’s not reading this, he doesn’t even know I have a blog, but if by any means any teenage boy who is scarred is reading this, it literally is really tough for all parties involved, the person who probably knows about you, you, and the people who dont know about your issues, but love you and would rather help you than see you suffer. The kid I was talking about, he uses many things as a distraction from his pain. He has a girlfriend, which even though I can’t judge the relationship, I speculate is only for show. Not gonna lie, her girlfriend is also very similar, exactly same to be honest. So I think it is a symbiotic relationship. Anyways, he uses alcohol, women and sex to hide behind. He’s a nice guy, a respectful guy, but I really wish he talked more about things that hurt him rather than things that he can boast about. Everyone has issues, I agree. But that is why I believe that everyone needs a little help. Humans are not meant to be alone. It’s just not in the chemistry of us.

Anyways, I think this is the first time I’ve written anything real and personal here. I dont know, his expression while he said about his family just- disturbed me. I wish he would talk to me, to anyone and know he’s not alone. I can accord to that.

Bye snakers 🐍

Let’s talk about things that are possibly stupid.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

A person makes various relationships throughout their lives and the general rule of the thumb is that relationships are fleeting. Be it someone as close as your mother or as insignificant as that one kid that offered you their chocolate in elementary school. Either that person makes you, breaks you or has no impact on your life; you create hundreds if not thousands of relationships throughout your lifetime.

I have no idea if you as an individual believe in fate or destiny or soulmates, but I for sure would like to look forward to that one special relationship that would change me for the better. When it comes to the idea of soulmates, I do not think that a persons soulmate has to be someone they are romantically involved with In my opinion, your soulmate could be a friend, your siblings or your parents, teachers, anyone. Anyone that just, gets you.

And knowing the amount of people I do know, I have realised that most people do not get the opportunity to even meet their soulmates which is pretty sad when you think of it. But this gives you one more reason to exist, doesn’t it? the opportunity to form this very sacred, very deep, very literally, life changing, relationship. This one person who would embrace you for who you are and would be the cause of your growth. Similarly you would change this persons life too. They would get you and you would get them. Every thought, every emotion, you would get it. Would accept it.

But at the end of the day, the truth remains, relationships and people are fleeting. They are not forever. Forever is false. Every once in a while you meet this amazing person, might even fawn on them, but at the end of the day, some people are just not meant to be anything. Not meant to be friends, lovers, soulmates. It’s not even our fault, we as humans crave validations and will seek it from anyone and everyone. We crave this sense of affection and sometimes we do get it and obsess over it. Naive people might even base their sense of happiness from a person, which is again, a stupid idea since at the end of the day,

say it with me;

RELATIONSHIPS ARE FLEETING, TEMPORARY AND NOT FOREVER.

unless you are like very very lucky and have found your soulmate, and life is a fairy tale where nothing happens to either of you and you live happily ever after. I doubt that happens alot, amiright?

anyways, I formed a very close relationship with this one person, long story short, covid happened, and we lost touch and she formed another very close relationship, possibly wayyyy closer than I could ever gotten with her. sure, I am extremely happy for her, but at the end of the day, I am human. Jealousy is something I am bound to feel and honestly, we as humans need to normalise feeling envy and jealousy. THOUGH harming someone is bad and envy is not an excuse for that.

here is the poem where I express how much I know more about this one person, how I am more closer and try to make the new friend realise how much they actually have no idea about this person. Not to say that they dont already know it, I am just being petty and thats pretty much the whole concept of the poem. A 15 year old being petty. Which again, not the most suitable situation but the most realistic. 

I wonder if she knows
How her best friends dad ditched her birth
How she hates her maternal aunt, 
Yet adores her paternal cousins
How when she says
'the other day' 
It could mean any day from her birth to yesterday,
And how that is copied off of a book she loves
How even though she doesn't particularly like books, 
She loves to read
How she doesn't particularly enjoy math
Yet never failed 
How she wishes to go away
But only with her mom
How her dad revolts her
But she cannot seem to give up
How that is close to me, 
I wonder if she knows how she liked history, 
But she would rather study english
How she learnt all poetic devices
In just a month
How she learns a new word each day, 
But never brags about it
How she had planned a trip to Europe, 
I wonder if her best friend ever thought of me
Ever realised 
I might be in need
Of just a shoulder to lean on
I wonder if she knows
I wonder if she thinks
I wonder when I'll stop wondering
And come to terms with
Having no-one to text when it all gets hard
Having to lean on myself
Needing only myself
Crying to myself
Because I tried being vulnerable before
And it didn't turn out great
Now I'm disgusted with relationships of all kind
But at the end,
It's ok. 
She was prettier,
Happier,
Friendlier, 
Better. 
And I wonder if she knows thats all that matters.

NO ITS NOT ALL THAT MATTERS, I SWEAR I WAS IN A DARK PLACE WRITING IT AND JUST REALLY JEALOUS, FRUSTRATED AND ENVIOUS.

DO NOT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.

THANK YOU!

anyways, I would like to be your friend if you want one, just contact me on my Instagram handle.

bye snakers 🐍

what is anything anyways??

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

I overthink. I believe most of us do, or at least have, at some point. or you know those shower thoughts. or like late night weird ass things you question about the planet? like what if an alien attack happened RIGHT NOW, what would I do? or like if I was robbed RIGHT NOW what would be my escape plan? and sometimes your brain tricks you into thinking that this the best use of your time. to make an escape plan, of your own house. but my overthinking has a ✨variety✨

I can think of anything from ‘what if I met harry styles’ to ‘what if I had a more, chilled out family?’ and the last thought stuck with me, for a little while. what if my parents were the more traditional. the more normal kind? what if my brother was more calm and laid back? what if my grandparents were more involved in my life? what if I made more effort in relationships? and so many other ‘what ifs’

these thoughts are overwhelming to say the least. and honestly, they are tiring and a waste of your precious time on this planet, but I understand that it is hard to stop them, they are like this pesky little insect that just won’t leave you. and its hard because people may mistake your obsessive thoughts with being philosophical. which ok to be fair, in my case im kinda like this overdramatic wattapad fantasy writer?? I mean, I basically overdramatise every little thing.

anyways, like I was saying, stoping these thoughts is a long hard process, and im not a psychologist so I won’t even try to mention any techniques, though I’ll mention a few links that might help, right here

but sometimes, we do question everything. our economic status, do we deserve it? or do we deserve less or more? we might even question what it means to be a young adult? to be ourselves? to have friends, or family? at least I did question all of them-

here’s a tiny tad bit of a long poem with everything and nothing all at once. I meant nothing and every damn word in this poem : D

What is anything anymore?

Sometimes I question 
What would be my state
If I had a normal family
Would I still be up at 3 
Overthinking?
Or would my papa 
With his angelic voice
Put me to sleep?
Would he still be drinking away
All his problems 
Or would be he up and awake
And try to make a way 
For his children?
Would my mom be crying
Because she hates her husband
Or would they be a team
Like they promised in their vows
Reality is nothing anymore
People can change with the blink of an eye 
And that is freaking scary 
To be 15 
And know things that shouldn’t be known until later on in life
You grow up faster,
Correction, you are forced to grow up faster
And you loose yourself in the process
What is you anymore?
Do you cry 
Or not? 
Do you smile
Or not?
Do you think of magical fairytales
Or not?
What are you anymore?
You lost yourself 
The second your father 
Raised his bottle to his lips
The same sound that once comforted you
Keeps you awake
Wondering
Worrying
What comes next?
15 year olds shouldn’t be thinking about making money, right?
15 year olds shouldn’t be up at 4 am thinking of a plan to run away, right?
15 year olds shouldn’t be crying silently when the world is sleeping, right?
But what is a 15 year old anymore?
13 year olds shouldn’t hate the man who brought them to life, 
13 year olds shouldn’t be making comics of himself in a world without his father
13 year olds shouldn’t be wishing on someones death
13 year olds shouldn’t have to see their hero drown himself in whiskey and beer, gambling away and crying when he lost
But what is a kid anymore?
A wife shouldn’t want to leave her husband
A wife shouldn’t want to seek for divorce
A wife shouldn’t have to ask her husband to leave their children alone
Correction, her children alone
But what is a working mother anymore?
A husband shouldn’t have to ask her wife for money to gamble away
A hero shouldn’t have to miss out on his child’s life for liquor
A father should have to be the kind of man her daughter would want for herself not the kind of man she is told to stay away from 
But what is a father
What is a messed up husband anymore?
What are friends anymore?
The ones that leave when things get too messy?
Or the ones who stay
And make things worse?
What is family anymore?
The blood that connects them
Or the money that blinds their filthy actions?
At this point I’ve started to question 
Every thing I’ve ever known 
And for that I’m grateful 
Because I’ve known wrong
And treated them as rights
Its time I realise
That nothing is black and white
And nothing is anything anymore.

bye snakers, meet ya later 🐍

uselessness

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

hi. I have felt useless before. I’m so sure at some point, you have too. my condition might have been a little towards the extremity of the emotion, but im sure yours is just as painful. watching someone being harassed, or someone being rude or abusive to their partners, sometimes you feel as if you can’t do anything. to some extent, you can’t and its not your fault, but sometimes, you are in the receiving end of something unfair. that doesn’t mean that everything is automatically under your control and you can walk away from feeling weak and vulnerable, instead, that situation makes you even greater of a survivor. to have been feeling lost, weak, pathetic to standing up and hoisting your middle finger like a flag to all your abusers and uncomfortable situations is a long hard process and if anyone manages to get that done, they deserve all the love there is on this goddamn mud planet.

now, let’s talk about trauma. it exists, and your trauma is real. everyone has trauma, ranging from ones in the battlefield to trauma in their households or schools. childhood trauma is real, and it has the power to change someones whole fucking life, though whether it dominates ones life throughout is a question only the survivor can answer.

well, I hope you don’t really like my rantings, because

here is my ranting, but in a poem form : D

early mornings, late nights

Did you ever have to go to your mom
And ask her not to cry?
To sleep beside her because you were scared of what she would do 
Not to you but herself
Did you ever have to 
Hear her cry 
And sob 
Her shoulders shaking violently 
And all you could think about was to leave
Not because you didn’t love her
But because it was way too hard to see
Her husband
Is in the living room 
With a bottle in his hands
Like every other day
He doesn’t give a flying fuck 
And at this point
It doesn’t matter
You used to cry about every little pathetic thing
But now you barely shed your tears
If someone twists your arm to the best of their ability 
Or if someone yells at you for yet another mistake
Its as if, your tears are shy 
And petite
Only when you are alone
They seem to appear
In little tiny streams 
From the depths of your tired eyes
Slowly taking away every bit of life with them 
Across your cheeks 
Gliding over your chin
And falling onto your empty bed
Leaving your eyes hollow and lifeless
With each passing day
You can’t look at your mom 
And find her happy 
Because she rarely is
And as much as you’d like to blame her husband
You seem to find faults in your own self
She might not regret having you 
But you know that life would have treated her better
If she never had your useless self
There was a time 
When you had a father
And you could remember his eyes, sober
When he didn’t say things that caused your tiny heart to rip apart
When he actually talked to you
Without having drunk any poison 
And he kept all those ugly cards
And things are different now
The only constant is change.
He only talks when he’s fucked up
And tries to make us his slaves, 
But a day will come 
When I’ll leave 
I won’t even talk to them again
And believe me when I say
I won’t even wake up in the middle of the night
Consoling my mom 
Like every early morning, but in vain.

I’ve recently learnt that in case you relate to this poem even a tiny bit, please visit a therapist.

so, snakers, whatcha think of it? my online fiancé said and I quote, ‘the trauma tho, depressing, its beautiful im ur biggest fan’, so that positions taken, but oh well, she loves exaggerating shit for the ✨theatrics✨ of it.

bye snakers 🐍

childhood traumas lmao; a word dump.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I have issues. Like every other human being I have issues. Some internal and some born out of external stimuli that I had or have no control over, and yes sometimes it feels like it’s my fault, in many cases it might as well be. But the thing is, I don’t have to blame myself over and over again, especially for other people and their actions. Now where am I going with this? I’ll let you in on a secret and then we will go from there.

Life is not perfect. No person that you know is perfect. No relationship is, no family, no friends, nobody’s life is perfect. And honestly, it’s time we as a society let that sink in and actually believe in it. Photos lie, people lie. That might be for various reasons, face saving, protecting yourself from societies remarks or any other reason, but to assume that if someone looks happy, they are; is wrong. Sometimes, people reach out but to the wrong people and then, it is too late to help. So many people stay in relationships they hate, just because of reasons they can’t explain, or are waiting for the right time to leave. And to judge them based on half truths is wrong.

Now what does that have to do with me? Lets just say, my life is not perfect either. I wanted it to be that, I really wanted it to be like the girls I see online, but the realisation came not so long ago, that their life had to be really messed up too. When I was younger, I wanted the girls that I look up to, to loose what they had. To have a life like mine. Problems like mine, because in my naive conceited mind, they didn’t seem to have any problems, problems like mine. But as I was scrolling through the internet one day, I came across this saying which went something around the lines of “Would it make you happy if they lost everything?” and that was when I realised, ‘Well, No-‘ and my perception, the very narrow minded perception I had, changed. Jealousy is an emotion we all know very well, but we don’t discuss it enough, it’s natural but we as a society have constructed this idea that those emotions are wrong, but the fact of the matter is, it isn’t. How can something that every human feels be wrong to talk about?

It’s about time, we talk about how our warped idea of a family, of relationships and of people affects us as a society. Heres a poem about, well its for you to interpret.

Gambles.

Sitting at the desk 
Trying to complete your math homework
You sit
You cry 
You don’t understand
But you try 
Its been a good 2 hours
Suddenly your dad comes to you 
Roaring with laughter
Happy 
Jackpot 
Win 
He won money
We can be rich
But dad, why?
Doesn’t matter 
He screams
Whistles
Intoxicated
You cry 
Of fear
Of anger
Of him 
Hours pass by 
Its dinner time
He isn’t here
Must be by the living room?
He had his phone
Might be earning money? 
Everyones asleep 
Its 4am 
You are awake
Hyperaware
Confused
You hear muffled cries
You go into the living room 
You gasp 
Unfathomable
He’s on the floor
Crying
Screaming
Muffled screams
Weak 
Stupid
What happened dad?
He won’t answer
You sit beside him 
Water? 
Food?
That might help 
You are scared
He never cries
Last time you saw him cry 
His mother died
What happened?
We lost it 
I lost it all 
What? What dad? 
Its all gone
A lot of it
Im gonna loose everything
Dad you need to stop 
You go the bathroom and 
close the door
You cry 
Disheveled
Hysterical
Useless
Unstable
Pathetic.
You wake up 
But can’t think of anything else
The amount is not enough to 
Make you homeless
Or kill you of hunger
You realise
Exactly how fragile
Reality is 
You can’t trust
You can’t love
You can’t be sure
You stay awake
Afraid to sleep 
Because you dream of 
Hunger 
Starvation 
You live each day in the fear
of loosing everything
Tired 
Stupid
The only thing that 
keeps you going
Is the fact that 
you have time
To leave him behind 
To start a better life
Without fear
Without cries
Farfetched 
But not impossible
You try 
But its too late
You never had time
Its over
Its all gone
You lost
You were never enough
Family is mere blood
Dishonest
Weak
Screams 
Muffled failure
It’s done.

So, a pretty dark poem, as I said, it’s up for interpretation. Snakers, this blog is turning darker by the minute and you should be here for it.

See ya later!

Written at night; A collection of unpublished poems.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

Its 3 am and i’m wide awake

wondering if someone else thinks of me

just as I think of myself

I hate sleeping. For whatever god awful reasons that might be, I hate sleeping. I usually try going to sleep when I am absolutely tired and cannot keep my eyes open anymore, but oh well, that might just be me. Now, here’s the fun part, when I am trying to tire myself, to try to get myself to sleep, I write. Or read, but I might as well write, and that process usually starts in the early mornings, around 3 am, but please don’t tell my doctors they might freak out because this happens, a lot-

So, what did I do of my poems? I kept them in a folder on my notes app, locked. No one usually sees them, not my family, friends, anyone. But a couple weeks ago, I said, and I quote, “F***k it” and decided to post them online and show them to my friends. Honestly I didn’t expect to get any positive reviews but I was sort of surprised because, maybe, people liked them? Or they might just be saying positive sh*t because its easier to lie.

Anyways, here are some of my poems that I wrote late at night and seem presentable to me. And if you don’t have anything constructive to say, please just- don’t say it. And try to learn the difference between “This sucks” and “This would be better if you replaced this word with this word, maybe?”

Also, y’all know how I’m like claustrophobic? Yeah keep that in mind for the first poem, maybe~

Afraid

i’m afraid of the dark
hold me close or i will shatter
the walls are too thin
too thick
too close
too far away
closing in
i can’t breath
but i can’t stop
it’s over
i’m fine
i’ll live another day in the fear of collapsing 
i’m fine.

Death

death is the only constant 
that nags the living 
the only factor
that tames 
even the most horrendous of beasts
but what if there were no repercussions 
of actions too gruesome?
of actions too kind?
of actions too black?
too white?
would there exist a grey?
a space to just
live?

Loneliness 

being alone and lonely 
are two completely different things
but which one is easier?
which one hurts less? 
to know that there are people out there
cherishing and loving you
yet you cannot love them back because you are scared
or to know that the day you are gone
the only cries will be from the sky above?

Feelings

you spent your days
your nights
your tears and life
trying to make someone
happy and feel cherished 
but then one day
you feel 
off
they don’t like you
don’t love you
don’t wanna see you
and then you stay up
at night
wondering, contemplating 
where did it all go wrong?
what did i do?
was it my laugh?
my giggles?
my body?
my tears?
and now it’s 3
you can’t sleep
so you cry
sob
pathetic.
hysterical.
useless.
unloveable.

I swear I write happy poems too, sometimes,

occasionally,

like once a month,

ok once every 3 months,

yeah that’s a good estimate.

Kindness

it’s 8 am
you are in school
your 7 year old self
sitting alone
watching
observing
the teacher comes in
and writes on the board
in bright bold letters
‘if you are kind to others
others will be kind to you’
you sit at your table
watching
learning. 
you are 25 and life hasn’t been easy
you cry yourself to sleep
you sob
delusional. 
kindness never got you anything 
you tried
you were kind
but that doesn’t matter now, does it?
your everything 
was abused. 
yet you chose to be 
polite 
petite 
pathetic.

Ok kids, that’s a wrap. I am done and this is good enough for today. I have WAY MORE poems and I’ll share them but I’ll milk them out as much as humanely possible. Because I love quantity not quality as you can very well see~

Bye, snakers. yes, you, reading my poems, you are a snaker.

fight me.

Street kids.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

The forgotten ones.

In today’s hustle and bustle, we generally seem to forget about the society and it’s components. It’s a complex structure and needs a lot of attention. Majority of our society consists of children. Some privileged and some on the verge of ruins.

Children are sought to be future saviours. They have the opportunity to change the way society functions and to improve all the negative impacts humankind has made on our planet, but what if a major chunk of these children are left malnourished and ill?


Children whose parents are well, earning and able to provide, live a healthy and happy lifestyle, while those who are left to rot by their parents or whose parents are no longer alive have to face the ugliness of homelessness from a very young age. Even if they have extraordinary talents, they will never be able to utilise them for the betterment of themselves or society. This is an issue that impedes the development of a nation and humanity as a whole. Children are sometimes forced to live on the streets, eat scraps of other people and earn almost nothing. Even though the government has planned for these sort of children, the benefits haven’t been able to reach all.

Education has been made compulsory for all children under the age of 14, but many just don’t have the resources to reach schools themselves. Let alone gain education. Even though the government has made schemes for them, it isn’t enough because it’s rarely implemented in real life. The people should do more, the government should try harder, to provide kids with a better livelihood and lifestyle. To give enough funds to orphanages, and NGOs. People should be more aware of these issues, because when a person is aware, they will be more willing to help out. Books and clothes will be donated in greater quantities, and eventually, help more children. Adoption should be encouraged and taboos revolving around adoption should be discontinued. Upon doing these small actions, our society can make a great impact, because eventually, the society of the future is in the palm of the people living in the current era.

Overthinking.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

Is Overthinking making you a sinner or saint?

Who is a sinner and who is a saint? Two polar aspects of being human. On one side we have someone who knows nothing but evil. Is cruel and someone we dread, on the opposite side of the spectrum, we have an imagery of a person who is more or less “divine”. Someone full of wisdom, knowledge and will always continue to do the right thing, an angel of sorts. But how do we decide, who a person is? Is it their actions? Thoughts? Societal position? Or something they do at night before drifting off to sleep?

Overthinking or Analysis paralysis, is when a person spends way too long, over analysing everything, which can range from life altering decisions to things as minuscule as the breakfast they’ll have the next morning. People can also have a varied “degrees” of overthinking which usually ranges from overthinking a couple of times in a week to being paralyzed while making important decisions and as a result, coming to no conclusion and missing out on a lot of opportunities.  

Sometimes overthinking can lead to a loss of observation and shifts your focus from the larger things in life. It can make you not acknowledge the endless possibilities and instead force you to look and spend your day thinking and analysing situations that may not even be nearly as impactful and this leads to a lot of wasted potential.

In a discussion with an anonymous source on their personal experience with overthinking, they described it as “a defensive mechanism”. In their words, “When you live in a household with parents that are OCD about everything and can be quite sensitive, it starts to make you think a lot more, probably to cope with the ever-increasing stress”. Further, the source explained why overthinking has also been beneficial to them. “I would say that being an overthinker is often accompanied by higher levels of empathy and reflectiveness. It also tends to help you become someone who is future oriented, which is a good trait when it comes to your career”

But that is just the pretty side of the underlying monster. Overthinking can lead to trust issues and insecurities if the overthinker is in a relationship. They can end up believing that an issue is bigger than it actually is, which is usually because they misinterpreted their partner’s actions. Too much of overthinking might even make someone avoidant of challenges and taking risks, which may impede on their ability to form meaningful relationships or achieve social goals.

In an interview with another source, they explained why they overthink. “I am pretty sure, I didn’t choose to overthink, but it chose me. I suffer from OCD and it’s not like most people expect it to be. Sometimes, I just HAVE to wash my hands 5 times, because if I don’t, my mind will convince me that someone I love, will pass away. And it’s not only things as small as washing my hands, it transfers onto obsessively thinking about that one incident that happened 2 years ago. I know that I always doubt my academics, or my achievements, I have felt like I didn’t deserve any of what I have, an “imposter syndrome” if you may. I have an obsession to make my family proud, and I always question if I am doing that. When I say “always”, I mean it. The issue is, I don’t have a clue WHY I want to make them proud; I just do. It’s just sad and depressing. It eats up a lot of my mental space and makes me tired on a ridiculous level. I wish I could stop it, but I just can’t seem to.”

All of the people who I’ve interviewed are teenagers. Humans that are just like you and me. But they continue to live with this unnecessary habit. Causing both pain and focus. Well, I was told to answer the question of whether overthinking makes you a sinner or saint, but I can’t do that. Not now, probably never. Because its not an objective question, it never was. Is obsessively thinking about your future, your end goal, a sin? Is over analysing your partners action a good and noble deed? We can never answer these questions because this “obsession” isn’t chosen by a person, it is inflicted onto them, it is not their fault, they are not the cause, and therefore, it doesn’t make you a sinner OR a saint. It makes you valid. It makes you able to analysis. It makes you wonderful. It makes you human.

-Jahnavi Dhir. 2021