Hey sweet little thing, you’ll always be in our hearts. I am absolutely heartbroken to realize that I’ll not see you or be able to hold you again. You were much loved and cared for. So innocent and cute!
I am sorry you had to silently suffer for the last couple of days. I wish you could talk. I wish you didn’t go away so soon. Mum, dad, bro, PS, dai, me and tabby, all of us will miss you so so much. I wish I could hear you purr and watch you sleep.
I love you. You were and always be my baby. Kisses. Loads and loads of kisses. Rest in peace my precious one.
The wait has been so long, I cannot bother to recall. My thoughts are haywire and my actions discomposed. My words are in between a pile of mess.
So close to something one has longed for a while. The warmth one has almost forgotten, so much that the thought of revisiting it unsettles me a little. There is an air of nervousness around. A struggle dealt with for a long time alone.
How does one share the bliss when a journey of woes has been traversed alone. It doesn’t seem balanced. I find myself incapable of expressing my emotions of late. Overwhelmed? Perhaps. Anxious? In abundance.
Time does a lot of things. It makes you forget how you once felt. Be it good or bad. And that’s a bit of irony. It would be quite right to say that at times, words simply fail to assist. A few feelings are too fervent to be moulded into words.
I have been watching these shows, movies, relevant to the ongoing movement on black lives matter. There is a lot to learn, a lot to understand, a lot to feel. As an Indian person, sitting in the UK, watching what’s happening in America, I can only say that I am not well apprised to put across the right words. I see the protests, I read the dialogues, I hear the enraged voices. What’s happening to black people doesn’t feel right. It appears to be wrong at a very basic level.
I have watched some really interesting things on Netflix so far:
– When they see us
– 12 Years a slave
– What Happened, Miss Simone?
– Dear White People
– Sweet Karamo in the Queer Eye(this one is just to feel good)
Some things are too difficult to watch, but I think we need to see them even if it makes us uncomfortable. It’s the reality a large group of people have lived for so long. And we can’t put a blind eye on it.
A movement is on the uprising, and I wish the next decade is a wave of progressive change in our world.
Missing these two so so much. I had to move them to my parents’ temporarily. I don’t know if it makes any sense to thank two cats on your blog, but I would really like to thank them for keeping me company these past few months. They probably don’t have a whiff of it but they kept me occupied, didn’t let my mind wander off to places, made me slightly responsible and most of all brought joy to my everyday life. Now that they aren’t around, I just lie in my house like a potato. And I miss them a lot, but I mentioned that already. Until next time munches. You two made me feel like home. Love.
It breaks your heart some times to see the people you love so much, wallowing in despair. And to be able to do nothing about it. Sure you can talk to them. But what do I say? Stay strong, be patient, resilience bears fruits. As I have observed, none of it quite seems to work. A confidence once floating in abundance shows no signs of trace now. Some days, you just can’t make a person you care about stop crying. And it’s fine. Them confiding enough in you to show their weak bits is a support enough. Some days, you just have to be there and remind yourself to not lose YOUR patience or faith in them. Be an anchor till the ship is ready to sail may be.
There is devil; there is the deep blue sea; and then there’s you. You came attached with a pre-written warning. Each meeting as uncertain as the next rainfall. Each word spoken to you with a sense of trepidation. Each glare aching to stay. Every moment gone by, yearning to be etched. Every touch emanating a spark; each spark begging not to die. The sparks on which books are written. Too many words spoken, yet emotions left unsaid. A story too short to begin, too close to share, too certain of its end. Doesn’t make it any less worthwhile.
Here is a theory (yep! call me crazy): When you part with someone you love…it becomes kind of obvious that you are going to be Mr./Miss/Mrs. gloomy for a plentiful days. You won’t get out of bed, you won’t eat right, you won’t mingle, you will possibly do all deplorable things to make you much worse than you are. At that point of time, it seems justified, a natural course of action. Like, yeah that person mattered to me, and I am literally down in the dumps without them.
But, how about doing the exact opposite? Say improving yourself for the ones you loved. Yeah let the gloominess phase out; if it doesn’t, limp, crawl, somehow, fight out of it. Sure, getting out of the bed seems like a hill to surmount. You are better than that, heck I am better than that. Wonder what it would be like, if you just sat and decided to be a better version of yourself. I mean what’s there to lose now right? Store the residuals in a locker or something. Do something good. Something fulfilling, that delights you. Take up some activity out of your comfort zone, learn something you are entirely new to. Imagine, if you ever meet this person somewhere down the lane, you could just smile and say, your love made me stronger.
These words could invoke loneliness at a whole new level. You have someone but only as empathetic as the wall in your room. You can’t run to them. You can’t demonstrate your authority over them. You cannot even complain to the universe. You lay in your bed, head tilted upside down embracing the emptiness inside your head. Plenty of questions. No answers. In life, at times, one trips over circumstances which are not a throughput of your own deeds. I want to say, accept what comes. Cringe. Dole. Find your own way through. Try and accept it.