Tag: personal life

Only pride and no prejudice

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

This is my first time doing NaPoWriMo- a friend of mine was kind enough to make me aware about the existence of this challenge. And I was excited enough to be able and willing to do it. Here is my first entry- first of 30.

The challenge has prompts- optional, but I am not creative enough to write 30 poems without prompts. The first one said to write about a book plot- a book I hadn’t read in a long time. Here’s my version of pride and prejudice, and my recent discovery that I had in fact lived through a couple scenes in the book. Oh how I love Mr. Darcy. 


I was walking through the ruins of the mansion above the ocean
When I came across Darcy
Running through the grass fields by the ocean
He held his vision high and mighty
A strain of his hands
Flex of his fingers
And I came to the crude realisation that he wasn't inked on paper anymore
He was there- and I stood dumbfounded with a vigour that changed my bones
My own gown dipped to the core, from the rain that soaked my flesh
My flesh and my conservations
He was a god to my devotion that had no place to go before
I screamed at Darcy, he couldn’t be true but he simply swayed 
To the beat of the sun and the clouds that covered the rays
He shone so bright
I had to close my eyes
He had done everything to help my existence in the oceans 
And what had I done?
I didnt know- doesnt matter
I wasnt aware- I was too rude
But the look in his eyes
The simple acceptance of my being
The adoration of my smiles
The simple loving of my skin
And I couldn’t fathom he didnt ask for anything in return
What was this man- no Darcy wasnt this humble
And then my eyes burst into a thousand lights
And I saw myself sitting- in a temple- far away from the mansion above the ocean
And there sat my Darcy
In his glory, on my lap 
And the world made sense 
Only pride and no prejudice for the man I thought didnt exist
But my life had colour now,
Gowns dried down and flesh scratched
He kissed my scars away
My Mr. Darcy. 

The purpose of the challenge is to simply write. Not write masterpieces. Therefore this piece. Please forgive my horrid writing.

Bye snakers.

I have never been happier.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

It’s been a month since my mom left me, alone, in a city whose language I do not speak and people I do not relate with. A month and I’ve met so many people, I’ve made friends, I’ve thought extensively about being alone and adulthood. I’ve managed to somehow be very quick with some people, trust them too quick. It’s not that I regret that decision yet, only time will tell, but im happy now. I’m happier now than I have been in a long time. It’s almost as if the thunder that once shook my spine has now subdued into soft whispers of the sea, barely audible, late at night. The music hasn’t stopped, but it’s a different genre now. The instruments are calmer now, a little more exciting also, but not at the cost of my sanity.

I think about the constant dilemma of being 17, away from the only reality you have known for your entire life. But in a month, the definition of home changes. Living alone and yet you feel surrounded by comfort. When there’s no crying at 3 am, when there’s sleep at 10, when there’s a schedule which is dull sometimes but also consistent and when there’s no screams of alcohol and drugs and addictions, I suppose, even grey seems better than black. And I often wonder if the sudden wash of calm I have let upon my being is a result of a cyclone’s aftereffects? Is this how it feels after a war tears apart a country? Is this how it feels to have an entire island change latitudes after a tsunami? I suppose it’s calmer than during the war, the remnants of what once used to be.

And in the process of enjoying my new found calm, there are bouts of anger and sadness and nostalgia for things that never happened. I feel angry at people for not letting me have a childhood, experiencing universal moments.

The disparity in expression and experience makes me sad and weirdly nostalgic too. Nostalgia for the heavy ‘what could have been’. The question that haunts the collective experience of human race, only because critical thinking was blessed upon us. Growing up and living alone in the capacity I am right now, is giving me perspective too. I am a firm believer that because we live in a world with 3 dimensions, our opinions on issues and topics should be, at the very least 2 dimensional. Thinking about people and cultures and words and art and history not only as an individual who was affected (or sometimes not) is evidence of narrow thinking. Said realisation has made me question the moral compass I once held and how I thought of the actions done by people around me. Everyone wishes they did things differently but most people end up choosing the option that suits them the best in the present. Hindsight is not a strong suit of humans apparently. 

A month I’ve been in a city, she’s pretty and she’s bold and she demands attention. She’s not the kindest of the lot, she’s not the most helpful at times, but she’s there, she’s strong and she lives and breathes determination. She has stood through storms and cyclones and she knows that there will be calm, before and after the destruction and tears, and she’s ready to pull herself back up. She’s not going anywhere. I’ve not met my family in a month and I’m happier than ever. It is calm, it is serene, but the city I live in, is teaching me to not expect it to last forever and be prepared for when the cyclone comes. Tsunamis never last forever, but neither does sadness and neither does tranquility. 

It’s nice to have that reminder often. 

Fear of the unknown.

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

As a young adult about to enter college, it is, obviously, a dilemma among others as to ‘what do I spend the next 4 years studying’, this is definitely the most crucial of them all. As a child with no external pressure regarding my course choices, it was all upto me. And although I had been procrastinating the ever evident ‘heart vs head’ for a solid 2 years now, this was the time to make a decision once and for all. Wether to follow my passion for words and diplomacy, or study business. I had a whole list of pros and cons that had seen multiple changes over the last years, I had talked to professionals in the fields, My own mother is a career counsellor for god’s sake. But yet, my mind had always faltered between these extremities. Safe vs Passion. 

Before delving into my inner dialogue, I wanted to touch on a rather sensitive topic. Financial insecurity. Lack of money as you grow up, or a traumatic incident wherein you experience a shortage of money suddenly, can alter your world view. Can make you question your Morales, ethics and sometimes, your integrity.  I experienced financial insecurity for a short while, it wasn’t ever as evident, my lifestyle had no sudden changes, but the underlying tension whenever my brother asked to eat out. My own hesitance when it came to asking mom for a new thing. Nothing was ever said, always felt. My mother handled the situation like an expert. I owe my entire being to her, but even a mother might not be able to understand what goes in her ward’s mind. Not her fault, not in the slightest, but sometimes it’s the situations that are to blame, not people. 

After experiencing an unsaid restraint of money, my entire concept of life changed. I started viewing my existence as a means to earn more money, my dreams, discarded. What are passions if they do not provide a comfortable lifestyle. I started preparing for entrance exams to the top business schools in India. I did so, with little interest because- it wasn’t something that I had honestly wanted to do. While applying to yet another business school I came across a course, one that was- quite honestly- a dream for a person like myself. Diplomacy, international relations, psychology, government, all wrapped up as different subjects, moulded into one perfect course. But, although I loved what they taught, I couldn’t bring myself to apply. With a lot of regret in my glassy eyes, I closed the tab. Let myself wallow, and went to class to prepare for B-School the next day. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t like business. A good amount of people said that my ideas had value. A few suggested I focus on entrepreneurship. And I respect and thank them to have such faith in me; A random 16 year old they had talked to, a handful of times in their lives. And I knew these weren’t the kind of people to flatter and appreciate shallowness. So there was substance in my preparing for business. But I knew that I could do B-School at 26, but I wouldn’t be able to do diplomacy at 32. The time limit for passion, was short. It required immediate action and dedication. On a random Wednesday evening, I offhandedly mentioned the course I so loved to my mother, as a ‘what is your professional opinion on this’, and her curt reply was ‘I’ve never heard of it’. Immediately my brain became foggy and I knew that I had wasted time even thinking that I could do this course, but her next sentence piqued my interest ‘But it seems like something you’d do well at. Tell me more.’ Enough to light a spark in my brain. I blabbered on and on about how this was the perfect course ever, it had the best subjects in one specialisations and it was so freaking interesting. My mom simply looked at me and smiled. The one which screams ‘I’m your mother and I know you better than you know yourself’. Enough to light a fire in my brain. 

I asked on the internet, used the hyped ChatGPT, an AI model to tell me about the career pathways by this course, found government departments I didn’t even know existed. I found a stable pathway after this degree, and then 5 more. And then the emotional rollercoaster started yet again. I cried almost every night, wondering if I should follow my heart or be practical. Humanities never pays enough. Science isn’t where my heart lies. Business isn’t something I want to do at this point in my life. Oh what an academic mess. 

Eventually, on one faithful night, I opened my email. There lied a mail from ‘The Daily Stoic’ a newsletter revolving around Stoicism; a philosophical theory publicised by Seneca and other great roman men way back in the day. The title read ‘Handle what you can control first’. An except from the letter says,

It’s interesting though how often we complain or chafe against these constraints…yet when the ball actually is in our court, we’re slow. We’re indecisive. We don’t do our best.

More than strange, it’s wasteful madness.’

And so the puzzle was solved at last. This is a decision I have to make, I have control over my life, I know where my interests lie. I had to consciously choose not to choose the easy way out. A run of the mill career pathway is so so enchanting. Get a good college, do a course, go to B-School, get into FAANG and you are set for life. There is no debate that some people enjoy this, some are good at it, and some get satisfaction from working 9-5. And it is not to shame the employees of big companies. But I knew that if I were to spend the next 30 years of my life in a MNC- I would be highly disappointed in myself on my death bed. Not because it would be ‘bad work’ but it would be work with no impact. I wouldn’t be able to improve anyones life but mine. I would think that I would die selfish in the most extreme sense, and I couldn’t settle with the idea. I decided that I needed to go big or go home, and home wasn’t comfortable. So I did what 30 people in all of India will be doing. I applied and got in, a relatively new course. Studying the national policies of India. With a glimmer in my eye, hoping to work on public policy. I am, ultimately, selfish, as most of us are, as I hope to do something the world will remember me by. But I think I can live with being selfish if it improves lives.

And I am not a pessimist, a realist maybe. If I do end up empty handed after a few gruelling years in this course of study, or if I end up wanting to pursue business ,I will always have the option open. There’s a backup plan for every backup plan in my books. (Probably why I considered Strategic studies in the first place)

To all the people reading this. I promise you, I dont- infact- know. I dont know if I made the right decision. Only life and time will tell. But if time does me right, if I do me right, I think I might be on the right path.  As I once read, ‘It is easy to steer a ship on water than on land’. Although there’s no shame in steering your ship, you need to get in the sea. See what lies ahead. 

A life on the waters is most probably more adventurous than on land I suppose. Wouldn’t be wasteful madness.

17 is a weird age to be 

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

I turn 17 today if you can’t guess by the title already. Anyways, this is the confusion of being 17.

Also Lana Del Rey has my heart.

At the age of 12, you wonder if you’ll ever reach 
independence large enough to get a coffee on your own
Wonder wrapped in 14 year olds when you reach the mall 
and with wide eyes you glance across the massive structure
16 is the epitome of innocence 
and between childish humour and the age of universal suffrage, 
There’s the little awkward 17. 
I dont know what to do when I turn 17
Is it a day to mourn my childhood coming to an end 
or to celebrate the nerve wracking 18?
I am closer to 20 than I am to 15 and it is not fair 
It is not possible, I know I was 14 a couple days ago
Such a weird age to be- 17.

All songs are written for you but you relate to none of them
Such carefree grandeur 
Falling in love, falling out of love
Falling in general 
But I seem to be balanced 
And yet such sadness 
And the moment I turned 17 
I understood how fickle time was
There’s so much left to explore
And it feels like I’m almost done. 
My teenage has almost come to an end, but it’s still there. 
Almost- that is the word to explain my year. 
Almost an adult but not quite, 
Almost a child but too old now
Such a weird age to be- 17. 

I do not know if this will remain, 
The confusion, the chills
I study the entire night
Yet my mind is somewhere else
Did I loose my golden years?
Are they still out there?
Am I there? Will I ever be there?
Such melancholy 
Such a weird age to be- 17. 

It’s almost as if the number is stuck
Stuck between the shiny bright 16, where the world is at your feet
And 18 where nothing is yet investigated
There’s the little 17, 
Timid, shy and awkward
What is it about? 
Such a weird age to be- 17. 

But its not all regret muffled by a birthday cake
Today I feel liberation. 
There is so much yet to see
So many friends yet unknown
Many opportunities yet untapped
And even if it were the end today
I wouldn’t feel entirely too bad
It was a good ride, one to remember 
Almost there but not quite. 
Such a weird age to be- 17. 
Such a weird age to be.
Such a weird age to be.

Goodnight snakers!

Does money buy happiness?

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

I used to think that if I got rich, I would be magically happier.

– Emma Chamberlain

“When I was younger, my answer would’ve have been- yes. I always had everything I need(ed). I had an incredible childhood, but I was always comparing myself to the rich kids at school. It made me feel angry and resentful because their lives seemed easy. Even though my life was incredible. But I still felt bad because I didn’t come from money.”

This is a rough extract from Emma Chamberlain’s podcast. And this is the experience of many children growing up. She goes on to mention how when she had just started making money as a 17 year old, the luxuries she could afford further solidified her belief. But nonetheless, the question still stands, Does money buy you happiness. Well for starters one has to identify what happiness means to them. Is happiness in saving millions for an early retirement. Is it spending quality time with your loved ones. Or is it in meeting the societal demand of a big house, bigger bank account?

For many people, happiness is complex, and as human nature goes, the concept of happiness is every evolving among most populations. From wanting a good nice Hyundai to maybe the cheaper SUV to the next new Ferrari, our wants never stop. And for a second; objectively thinking, that is a good thing. If our aspirations go dormant, so does our will to live and explore. Now, that is not ideal is it? Our goals and hunger to achieve them are not only respondent to our own self image but are also vital for the company we work with, or the people we love. Having no goals is reflective of a sad, sad life. But again, if sadness lies in not wanting anything, is happiness the opposite of it? Wanting all and always?

Well, no. The theory of humanity has always been in  extremeties. We love to believe that it’s all black and white. But ironically, the most interesting thing that we are yet to explore in the human brain is the grey matter. The part that is neither black nor white. Having said that, it is the truth that when your basic necessities are met you will be happy. There is no doubt that someone with a small cramped apartment and having barely any money to feed themselves will not be nearly as happy as someone who doesn’t have to worry about the next meal and the electricity bill next month. The freedom of travel that money gives you. The liberty of having access to quality health care these are all immeasurable. But still, what is happiness? 

Many believe that it is a subjective question impossible to answer. I dont. I think that happiness is when a person does not have to worry about much in their lives. It is not possible to live a stress free life. Stress is not a one off event. It is engrained in our living and you cannot imagine to live without it. But again, happiness, I believe, is when you can stop working for a few days when you dont feel well, you can afford quality education for your kids, provide yourself with good opportunities; when you have a nice little backyard with a dog and life doesn’t feel like living on thorns all the time. Financial independence is not overrated. Pseudo happiness lies in the macro luxuries. In the best red car, in the diamond studded gowns. Things that can wear with time. Education, experiences and moments remain forever, bags and houses they rust and wither. The beauty fades the brain remains. 

So, does money buy you happiness? Yes and no. Because sure it can give you the freedom to explore, resources to have memories and experiences that you otherwise would have missed out on, but on the other hand, in the pursuit of making said money, you may loose on the people you can share the experiences with. Making huge money often has a pattern. 4 wives, 7 kids, all from different wives and girlfriends. You might earn a good amount but you have no family to share the money with. The only leverage is, with insane money, you can buy friends. And the thing is, in todays date, money isn’t that hard to find, but authentic relationships and experiences are worth the world, the world and beyond. 

tears of a student

Posted on by Jahnavi Dhir

before I start talking about this poem- a quick mention to the prompt I got at WordPress. It said to write about my father or a father figure in my life, and to that I say, no thank you WordPress I’ve trauma dumped enough here already.

Anyways, sorry for being awol for months. I hated writing for a hot second there. I hated reading, writing, even calligraphy. I think I have successfully, burnt out in my senior year, not good timing. I think today’s poem is very reflective of how I have been feeling for months on end. Board exams are near, entrance exams are near and you’ll be proud to know I am failing my exams left right and centre. I might have to make blogging a full time thing after school. Senioritis is a real thing, but I am feeling is more than a mere ‘I’m so done with school’ its a full blown- I will fail and will end up homeless and alone on the streets.

I will give these last couple months my entire heart and soul because fairly, I DO want to be just done with the subjects I study at the moment because I love love love political science and international politics and history and sociology and English and I want to learn those in university as soon as I possibly can, because the sheer amount of tears physics and chemistry have made me cry out is actually insane.

I present to you- tears of a student. 

Everyone has a best friend that is not me, 
Everyone knows what they want from life, just not me
I click on the ‘undecided’ tab under major preferences because I see
I battle
I fight my inhibitions
Why do I feel so worthless when I think of how I love to study the world
Not in the scientific sense, unfortunately 
I hate that I love subjects that dont seem to make any money
I hate that I love paintings and music, and arts and dances
I hate that I’m not smart
Why is that I am the furtherest from reality when I need to be aware
I am a product of sheets and marks
Social media consumes me from inside out
A soul sucking addiction I can’t seem to get out of 
I hate myself for making decisions I regret
I have an irrational superiority complex
Each night as the tears that were meant for my happy events
Gets soaked by my pillow
I fear I will wake up the next day with 
An email meant for another
But it will say, in bright bold letters
Failed to discover.
Recover myself from my empty desk 
Full of ambitions I have neatly folded and kept
I dont know if I have the courage to look at them again
I matured too early, but I am too head-fast
I know that I am not as smart
Academic validation is my craving
Like a vampire searching for its prey
I am tired of feeling this way
Please  let me have a year
A year of pure discovery 
I want to learn and travel
I want to know what it feels like to be alive
And not be restrained by just another institution 
But I am not as bold,
I crave stability and risks are scary
I am just another cliche 
I failed myself and my parents
Just another disappointment, waiting to be discovered 
By the monsters in my head, feeding off my regret
My leg hasn’t stopped shaking since the last year’s result
I know I can learn given enough interest 
Its just that my love lies in the hall across from mine
But I never had the courage to listen to my heart, 
I hate that I love to pick myself apart 

It’ll all be over soon but I fear,
It might be too late to save me from myself
I’ll drown in an abyss unable to breathe
And I’ll die sinking thinking of myself
As a product of yet another unresolved destiny.

I would in fact, love to be done with physics and chemistry.

Bye snakers, hopefully see you soon!

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 🐍

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!