The Messed Up Mind

Everyday is such a cruel joke and fate stands there laughing at us after playing such heartless pranks on us; sadistically saturating itself with our miseries.

We are all so much in pain- wishing on dreams, battling the past, working our asses off to run our families, regretting and mourning over dead relationships. I wouldn’t use a word as strong as “depression” but everyone around is stressed. We need to talk. We need to find ways to calm ourselves. I’m no expert, I’m not even close to being one. But on a human to human level, I can only talk you into using three strategies to help you calm down. No buddy, these are no way going to solve your trouble but they can calm you down, temporarily, to help you think better. These are not step by step processes or anything related.

How often we hear people say, “just take a deep breath”. It does sound absolutely pointless. I mean, I have this plethora of problems hanging on my head and I’m sweating like shit every night thinking of them and you expect me to just breathe and pretend every problem is going to disappear?? This idea turns out to be more nonsensical the moment I try it and it actually works!!!
Let me tell you a little secret now- Breathing is how most of us remain calm and that’s exactly how most of us escape the almost mental breakdowns that life pulls us towards daily.

How, I don’t know. But it really helps. If you try to think too deep you’ll never be able to convince yourself. That one second when you take a deep breath is the moment of realization that panicking will not help. Don’t find a solution at that point, just calm yourself. Best decisions come out when one is calm. I don’t guarantee your problems to disappear, but the weight will be lighter and your head a little less messy.

Next.

You know that one point in life when you have no idea what’s happening and why it’s happening; and you’re in the arms of your 2a.m and you know you’re the only one awake. No one is even online. And even if someone’s up, I save my 2a.m only for myself.

So, there’s me, with my earphones plugged, and the volume on the highest. My feet tap softly to each beat. It’s so soothing to close my eyes and breathe with the rhythm. There is my entire world crashing to ruins but music makes me forget about the havoc. It feels demonic sometimes, how it lures me to stop worrying.
I breathe, a bit longer than usual. The storm in me is bearable – no, not settled, just bearable as long as the music lasts. I’m relaxed.

I know there are people who are not dealing with the present, but rather the haunting ghostly past. The present might be a perfect moment but the past has left scars too burdensome to see the beautiful present without being hazy. And everyday we think, “how do I forget and unsee what I’ve already seen?” Or “how can I change my feelings?”

Truth is, we cannot. Feelings can only be surpassed. Perspectives are changed, not feelings. Too complicated? Let me explain.
When we feel sad, we can’t stop feeling sad unless another feeling dominates the former one. Okay, I’m definitely not able to explain here, right?

Imagine this- You recently started loving someone. Now love is an amazing feeling. I don’t think anyone has ever escaped it’s clutches. But, you’re not loved back. You are frustrated, basically almost always pissed off. You realize people cannot be unloved. Then months later you fall for someone new. You see, your feelings did not change. You loved that person. But the bigger truth is you love the second person so much more.

Feelings are so complicated. No one really teaches you in school how to deal with them. I fight my feelings everyday – anger, anxiety, restlessness over absolutely nothing. I am still learning. But I have learnt one thing. The best way to move on from a feeling is by accepting it. The more you try to escape, the more it will ricochet back. So anyone out there trying to fight, stop. Accept things as they are. I know it’s so much easier said than done. But you’ve got to understand, holding on will only get you stuck on a loop of sticky events.
Start putting your mind to other things. Find your passion. If you like writing, write till your pen runs out of ink. If you like dancing, dance till the floor shatters. If you like to sing, sing at the top of your lungs. If you like to paint, paint till the brush needs rest. If you like to roam, then walk around and explore place you never have.
Accept things and move on.

I sometimes wonder that very less people read my blog anyway so what am I even doing. You see there are two reasons. The first, as I always say, writing always puts spirit at the right space and the second reason is that even if one person reads my post and feels my word, I feel good. If there’s even person who can feel better or relate to what I wrote then I think I might be somehow being useful (even if to just that one person).

– Post By Yuri

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For The Ugly People

*Note/Warning (or whatever you want to consider this)- If you are expecting to find a drastic change in your moral values after reading this, you might be in the wrong place; I don’t write to turn people gold.*

A few weeks ago, I was a pathetic creature. I know, more or less I still am, but, a few weeks ago I was pathetic in ways I shouldn’t have been. So, I looked at myself, the person I had become and I loathed my own very existence. Life was not “tough” on me, I was being tough on life. I have had a sticky situation I have been trying to get out of (no, I don’t want to talk about it) and life had forever been giving me my way out but somehow I couldn’t. Call me dumb if you may, but trust me that felt more difficult than learning how to shoot in the Resident Evil game (oh, you find that easy? Well, you’re smarter than me, congrats). With all these negative energies flowing through every portal in my veins, I felt evil. I felt hate and I felt rage in a way that made my hair smell like burning tires or burning coal (whichever is worse) and I would look up to my face and think, “That’s one ugly shit face!”. I have been a devoted follower of the whole “love yourself” scheme but somehow I could love every destructive force in my life except my stupid self. Perhaps it was the acknowledgement I had of myself that I was in fact this cold and numb human, until I sat down one night, curled up like a foetus and felt my own warmth. I never had that one life changing thought, but instead, I knew amidst that little warmth, I could love myself, the way I am, the way I might someday change.

The next day I was sitting in a restaurant with a pizza and coke, alone, on a date with myself to treat myself how I should be treated, to love myself how I should be loved, to be taken care of. I sat there reading a manga for five minutes to avoid the awkwardness of sitting alone and devouring a pizza. In five minutes, I told myself that I did not like it so I stopped because I was out there to be happy, so I must do what keeps me happy. I leaned to sip my coke and I thought of every ever funny joke I cracked and could feel my lips curve yet I would suppress it to avoid the “crazy woman” stares (not many managers accept mentally unstables in their restaurant, you see, those racist bastards!). I clicked pictures and I turned on the filter, took a breath, switched it off again. I could clearly see my rough skin with almost an army of pimples like some mini dragon was laying eggs all over my skin. I fixed my hair and ended up worsening the already rusted quality of twigs I called hair, a few strands desperately stuck around my fingers and I looked around, embarrassed, to see if anyone saw that (I did spot a waiter giving me a “wtf” look but he did turn around as soon as our eyes met). I put away my phone. It had made me unhappy enough for the next four lives already and I was not going to ruin my beautiful date over a few stupid pictures. I did eat my lot and came back home. I was happy with myself (unhappy with the bill, though).

I was never the prettiest nor had I for once wanted to be so (before). I would look at the mirror, watch my hopeless self and one of those pathetic past few weeks I realised I was not even close to an average (don’t pity me already). I let my shirt loose and I felt my thin arms. I had spent 20 years of my life making jokes about this almost-skeleton-wrapped-with-only-epidermis kind of body and never for once I felt the need to be told “You’re pretty”. I never took much thought over it. Yes, I did dress up and no, I did not look like a homeless hobo or a runaway convict (at least not always) but I never actually felt the need to groom my hair and stay all night to give my face a beauty therapy. I bet 80% girls out there don’t but that’s not important. I was starting to feel concerned and my search engines were starting to fill up with “cost of facial surgery” kind of shit. I hated my face and that was not even the worst part. The worst part was me feeling happy over these imaginary surgeries and transformation inside my head and my subconscious mind was tearful over this part of me.

Then the whole sleeping like a foetus night came along and my beautiful date. Back home, I went through my pictures, made jokes to myself and laughed. I laughed at my ugly shit face and before I knew it, I was talking to myself, out loud. (no, no one was home). I poured some whisky and I sat down with the pizza I packed and I could hear myself speak things I already knew. I accepted I was ugly. Yea, I’m ugly in ways you could never imagine (or maybe you could, depending on the flexibility of your imagination, just saying). No I’m not a Barbie and I’m done trying to look pretty. I’m ugly and God made me this. I have been fine by it since the last 20 years and I am gonna be fine for next 20 lives. I know it sounds pessimistic. Being “ugly” is not a crime. Yea, people judge you, you would think. But, if there’s someone out there looking at me and thinking about how ugly I am then I’m sorry but I just peed my pants laughing at the fact that they care enough about things that I don’t give a shit about. I could treat myself with make up if I please to make myself a Disney character or I could stay an ugly yet a proud person with enough courage to accept myself before I judged someone else. I could do both, and I do.

If someone out there does judge you because they feel they are perfect, then I guess they just scribbled off the perfection by putting in such thoughts at the first place. Stay true. Just because your face is scarred and it does not stand the standard definition of the “tall, straight hair, fair-skin” pretty, it does not mean you’re not beautiful. I will not stay and tell you that you have a beautiful face and let you believe that. I would rather want people to know that their ugly faces can carry hearts that are brighter, if they let themselves shine. Run after me with a cannon after reading this if you want, but we are all ugly and pretty and we need to stop prioritizing our faces.

-Post By Yuri.

Undress

When I undress I often think of you,
You talking about your father or a game that you liked,
One finger playing with my rusted hair lock,
The other finger brushing softly over the lip bite.
Your face made it’s way from the back of my mind,
Every time I slipped my cotton off my body
Invading my thoughts like a 3 a.m poem.
And I think of your face and those perfectly carved features
And there I go into a time lapse in slow motion.
I think of your hands, strong yet soft,
I know they can carry me but they never hurt my soul
Your fingers a little fat, broad to hold my face
To pull me towards you and plant blissful kisses on my forehead.
I think of your fair chest, oh, how much I dream of it
To put my bare skin on yours and let the warmth diffuse through it.
I could kiss your moles and your soul if you let me,
As you caress through my waist and shuffle through out my flesh,
But, here I stand with only luscious thoughts embedded on my head.

When I undress I think of you,

But you are not here
And the hands on me are of someone else.

– Post By Yuri.

Warrior

Make me your warrior of peace,
I shall be your sword of valour,
My edges as deep as my love for your eyes,
The power that resides or the power that helps you rise.
I want to be the fire in you that burns,
The storm that pulls you up,
I shall be the Phoenix of your soul, beyond control,
The protector of your heart, sinfully adorned.
Look up, soldier, look up to your goals,
I shall look after you, devote to you with my all,
Cross your zenith and conquer the world,
Let me take all your scars to flaunt my love,
Let me stay by you, to wave your flag of honour.
No crooked eyes shall cross the lines,
The lines of victory of you and I.
Beheading your sorrows I shall rise,
Be your warrior in this Game of lies.

Post by Yuri

Wars and Souls.

Another March morning I would wake up to the nightmares,
Shuffling my little beads by the edge of my cold bed
I knew not to look around for a hug or a kiss
For no one has been by me ever since the past September morning.
My heart went numb and I thought it had stopped beating,
Until last night I could hear my heart thumping.
What was it by my window, a shadow so similar,
Or was it for the squeak on the wooden floor that felt so familiar?
I was three feet drunk in whisky and ice,
But the cold never caught me more than that breezy nostalgic night
Was it in my mind, is it playing games?
I knew it was real, I could tell with my whisky veins.

I lick my lips drying in the heat,
The heat of urge to jump and hold you,
The cravings of your kiss and touch grasped my tender heart,
I knew you would be home in a while in my arms.
The while took too long, but I still always found you,
Wrapped in words and letters in crystal blue,
Carved in pages with several little cracks
And the smell of you and tears in the back.

But last night I knew it was you,
Even in the blindest nights I could feel your hue.
No war could ever keep you away,
No war, no armour could suffice to take your breath.
Your promise to come back two Septembers back were no false words,
For here you are dug in my arms in your proud olive regimentals.
I never felt so sober yet so drunk altogether,
The whisky was coming off but I was high on you,
I know you would be gone again to the borders before I even know,
Till then let me hold you till my soul’s satisfaction.

-Post By Yuri

(I just thought I would dedicate a poem to all those in love with a person who is always out there in the most remote regions protecting our country. The sacrifice made by both throughout is in itself a historic love story).

A Blog Of Thanks.

Remember being 12 years old and the English teacher walking in on the first day of the new session and saying, “Write about your friends”. The pages of the new notebook rustled and the pens ticked. A pause. Everybody is so ready to write, but the mind betrays by being blank. Slowly the pages are filled with blue inked words, saying how helpful, kind, wonderful their best friend is. I have been a bit nostalgic the past few days and my mind has been a bit off the track. But the urge to write is still at it’s highest. I decided to take the whole “Essay on friends” thing a notch up and I came up with this piece. I have written about so many things and eventually been left with zero idea hovering about my head and never did I once realise how incomplete my blog looked without this post.

I know, by now most people might be like “The blog holds no purpose”. I mean I couldn’t agree more to it. When WordPress asked me to put up a bio, I was nervous to the brink because I had no idea what this blog would exactly be about. I just knew I had to write. That’s when I had friends hold on to me and believe. This is perhaps the most aimless blog ever, but I don’t even want to force any aim to it. I just want it to be as random as my mind, filled with infinite unrelated thoughts, sprinkled with sarcasm.

Friends in my life have been no less than mysteries. I could write books on them, and still fail to understand them. I remember back when I was 6 years old in school, playing “Winx Club” with my three friends and later “Harry Potter” and other weird games every games period. I remember them building my innocence with every sand castle we built. We were the kids with pink girly ribbons and frocks of satin, teaching each other the ways we knew, the ways we could grow.

I was older when they got posted to different places and I met my eternal mate, someone still so attached, a girl who taught me sarcasm. You see that’s what friends do, they stand by and make you laugh to pull you out of the embarrassing moments. They stay and get annoyed as you drool over your crush in the creepy manner. They celebrate your first boyfriend like the ritual of some cult. I have been blessed with friends and I have been blessed with people I would never want to lose. I have those 2 a.m people everyday making me laugh, I have those douchebags who change my tears to hysterical laughs, The ones to call me up to tell me to do my practicals on time, the ones who actually help me complete my assignments without even asking, I have those “one call away” helping hands and I have angels who forget their own sleep to help me sort my shit. Perhaps a thanks could not be enough so a blog it is.

You see, we live in a world filled with beauty and dark. I am someone with a character so abysmal, yet somehow I tend to find the best of people. Everyday for me is my own moment to try and be better, to try and be as good as them, to try and be wonderful, like them.

Fallen

You will find her there,
Where the river is frozen,
Your lips might tremble to her sight,
To the glowing halo of her pale face,
Or her silhouette against the sun so bright.

I was a lone wanderer,
Somewhere amidst those woods
Where the wolves howl to the first lightning
And owls hoot to the last Sunbeam,
I was there, searching for her frozen river.

800 miles away from home,
A torn filthy rag wrapped around,
Finding someone no one’s ever seen,
A witch beside a freezing river,
A magnificent glory.

I swing my sword preparing my battle,
Unknown to the mystery ahead of me,
They say even the strongest bow,
Embracing the dark of the cursed land,
No man ever walked back home somehow.

Somewhere amidst the floral fair,
Lay a woman with white tresses,
I prepare my sword to slit her throat,
Till her meek eyes meet my soul,
Could this harmless fawn be a witch, I thought?

Her crystal eyes exhibit her fear,
I shower mercy to her prayers,
I knew better to not let my guard down,
So I kept my sword straight,
Yet something held me back.

The red evening sun knew not to glare,
And let dear Luna take over it’s kingdom,
For the night held vicious creatures in it’s clutch,
Ready to devour the sunlight at a glance,
Evil, that only the moon could survive.

I fed some wood to the blazing fire,
I made a bed of leaves for her,
She looked into my eyes and dug deep into my soul,
Her fear turned to soft hymns of notes,
That pulled me deep to sleep.

Sleep, oh dear, I wish I had slept,
But I chose to look into her crystal blue eyes,
Her lips were so red, like pulped from cherry,
Even a saint might fall prison to her beauty
And I, I am only a man.

I dived deep with every touch she made,
I cringed with lust to her spotless skin,
The wolves inside me battled,
To come out and put my claws on my prey,
That so readily had itself offered.

And there under the black sheets of night,
I knew I had found her,
The one glorious sinner I was looking for,
The one I was meant to bring the head of,
The witch who made love to me in the most ecstatic manner.

The morning rays warmed my bare skin,
She lay next to me just as bare,
She holds my hand with her little hands,
Pulls me deeper into the woods,
And I like a little child at her back; I would even follow her to the zenith.

And there we were, in our little kingdom,
Away from the world, amidst her golden tresses,
Away from the hate, alone with my goddess
A world with no ghosts nor a world full of gold,
Just she and I and our frozen river.

Post By Yuri