Sometimes

Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m living for.

People I love, never love me like I need them to.

People are meant to radiate or drain ,*

But what if you are tired of radiating?

The purpose of your life is what you make of it.

But what if you cannot find that purpose?

People expect.

Everyone has expectations from me.

I wish,

Just for once.

People would stop expecting, and start accepting

Me,

As I am.

Or,

If they can’t,

I wish they would leave me alone;

Stop judging without understanding,

And just shut their big mouths.

And remember,

That I am not you.

I never was,

And I never will be.

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Its Monday, again

It was a blank sort of day, the sort of day when nothing really happens. A quiet kind of day, the sun streaming in through the window, lighting up the tiny window seat, the stripped covers on it, the many mis-matching cushions that had been piled onto it, the figure curled up onto it under a twisted comforter. The light bulb near her head was still on, its light indiscernible in the light of the sun. Continue reading