Dear future self

Dear future self,

I want you to come back to this moment, I want you to not forget this feeling you’re feeling right now, I want you to remember the exact color of the sky, and the dearth of the free flights of even a single bird, I want you to remember the absence of a silver lining in any of the clouds that cover the skyline, the emptying paleness of the azure that spreads in the unimaginable infinity that covers everything, the constancy with which the streetlights radiate, this numbing sensation in your bones, this desire to succumb yourself to silence, to throw all of those diaries of poetries and dream journals away, or, rather, put them all to fire, all over again, I want you to remember this precise moment when the impracticality of your dreams seems so overwhelming that you find yourself giving justifications for not trying to hold on anymore.

I want you to come back to this when some random little thing, ranging from some Disney movie to a Woolf quote would inspire you and you’d find yourself readying for another of those sprees in which you’d believe yourself to be unbreakable. But you’re getting old for Disney, you aren’t young anymore, you have been young all this time, but you aren’t, not anymore. And despite your mind finding itself on a ride back to a feeling of belonging in the stream of consciousness this Woolf offers, you know about her end, didn’t you? You know her last words were the first thing you read, and you knew you understood what she felt, and even as you couldn’t know why she did what she did, you knew they couldn’t save her, you knew she couldn’t save herself, but you know you understand, and you know you hate that. I want you to remember this burning sensation your eyes feel at this moment, and the seemingly unending way in which this saltwater doesn’t run out, I want you to remember how the skyscrapers covered the sunset for you this evening, and all you could see was the darkness that reeks in this entire cosmos, slowly manifesting in the way it dawns over the city, I want you to remember how you looked at this train go by, and all it did was remind you of the dreadful monotony that awaits you, the sheer normalcy you know you’d find yourself engaged in, doing what you’ve done all these years, running in circles, and wanting to do it all before the accepted age for the same runs out, I want you to remember the way you felt sorry for yourself, and you couldn’t do anything but gritting your teeth. You haven’t felt as estranged to yourself and everything you’ve meant to everyone ever before. I know you, I know you dislike it when you feel entrapped in your own body, which keeps suffering, because of you, I know that even as you’ve come to accept the aberration your curls offer, at times you’d want to just have it all go away, wanting to fit in, wanting to not realise all that you see to be unfair. I know you’ve come to hate your arms, slowly, but you’re getting there, hating the chunks of fat that allows people to fat-shame you, with an unbelievable impunity, you’ve never liked your ears, have you? They’re just too big for humans, maybe all they want you to do is listen, and understand, and do things their way. And the newest addition, that’s the one you hold the most grudge against right now, isn’t it? You’ve hoped to get a tattoo that defines your beliefs and yourself all these years, wanting to engrave a semicolon or a flying book on your wrist or at the back of your neck, because you’ve always been someone who goes on, who believes in the magic and the power of the written word and imagination, but the world isn’t a wish-granting factory, isn’t that right? So you’re presented with these scars that make you cry every time the mirror reflectes them covering your back, the monstrosity of their redness is sickening, and you find it unable to get the doctor’s voice outside your head telling you how they won’t go away. And you shed a tear knowing that these scars, which are nothing but a reminder of another summer that broke you, would probably outlive in being there on your body, than your soul.

Look, I don’t know what to say, all I know is that you are hurting, and you know you’re going to make through this as well, but I know you don’t want to, with all these people out there, refusing to treat beings as beings, you’ve started questioning what even it means to be a human. You find it unable to partake a conversation with people you used to know, knowing exactly how they’re trying to silence your voice, giving excuses of utmost stupidity with these infuriated glares to everytime you mention something to be wrong around. I know how the feeling of being silenced and misunderstood clicks with this feeling of loneliness and you find yourself abandoned in the middle of a sea, with this ship that comes with a timer, you know it’d take you home, all you need to do is put the address, but where even is it? So you find yourself swimming around, wanting to ask someone for directions, only that there’s nobody around, and with your armour down and kept aside for safekeeping, you know nobody would come to help your beatific being, knowing that all those promises and confessions they make about following you till the end of the world, will all fade away once they see you removing your masks. I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trusting people, I’m sorry nobody wants to be around, you know you don’t get to blame them, right? And all those constellations of thoughts you thought you’d think through, wondering if the stars knew our stories all this time and if this existence is nothing but a computer simulation, and if our lives are unprecedented or not, and why we do what we do, live all those ages without asking why, forced in these races to get more marks and money and a stability that’s put Noble gases to shame, what’s even the point?

I want you to remember the way your aching heart beat for you, and how you couldn’t bring yourself to text or call anybody up to listen to the sound of silence, and with the stillness your soul screamed and broke apart, all over again. I want you to remember how your fingers fluttered while you typed and your insecurities took over you, I want you to remember how you saw the ghosts of those who’ve loved and left all around you, all over again, and how you knew better to not reach out this time, knowing they’ll vanish the second you do that. I want you to remember the fireworks that spread across the sky, and the world rejoicing oblivious to the apocalypse springing in your being. I want you to remember the uproar this laughter coming from strangers that broke you, that made you want to wonder how could they settle for mediocrity, how could they not want anything more, but to hold on to their immoral rationality they call as worldliness, how nobody ever wishes to stop being called a refugee in a town that never changed, how they never accept a part of it to belong to a part of theirs, how we’re living in a tremendous turmoil, just toiling through Tuesdays and Thursdays, we’re at wars with ourselves, we’ve all our guns and grenades loaded, and we keep trying to harm the kingdoms of all those we find in front of us, knowing that one can always pick up the pieces to build their Lego houses again. But why do we always have to be that wave that brings the sandcastle down, what good does it even do to us?

I feel sorry for you. I do. So when tomorrow you come back and your intellect tells you that you’re invincible,and you read this and you feel sorry for me for not being able to look at all those wonderful wonders this world still has to offer, I know I’d be too numb to call you naive, for believing that one of these days you’d step up to becoming someone who’s not invisible, to becoming someone who’d be able to stand up for yourself, to maybe even getting to your dream university, to be able to articulate your affection, to not let your insecurities insinuate you to go flounder in silence, maybe to even have somebody tell you that they’re proud of you, that you’re appreciated for who you are, to be someone with that spark in her eyes and the understanding that she wants the world, to feel infinite once more.

And maybe you’ll get it all, your utopia doesn’t include unicorn horns and dogs you are too afraid to pet anyway, maybe you’ll find some sense and some reasons why not, one of these days, I only hope that this sadness doesn’t devour you completely before that happens. I hope the next time you read this, you believe in magic and metaphors once more.

Either ways I know you’re going to make it. I hate it that you would but you would, anyway. So go on, cry this night out and in a week or two, get back to filling your pocket with sunshine and your cup with coffee and dreams, wanting to be all that you could be.

I’ll get through this, don’t worry, there’s not a heartbreak that Coldplay and a bottle of Cola can’t fix.

Don’t end before you’re shattered completely, and don’t forget the starless skies I am looking at right now. I want you to remember this all once you go back to counting your calories and running in circles tomorrow morning,

I want you to remember me. Because I know nobody else will.

You better not let me down, okay?

Go get ’em, tiger.

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Hear you me, the chosen one(s)

The sky boasts of all those enchantments and red sparks you have sent shooting across your wand, and the bubble your sorcery has created, it refuses to let any of those evil forces penetrate through it, and hence, I am able to stand here, being able to breathe in the magic the moment has created, with the sky being a spitting image of Van Gogh’s starry night, trying to voice my regards, my awe through this debris of raving emotions and worthless words, wondering if my voice will reach you over these sounds of shrill screaming all around, over all these alternate universes and oceans and eras that divide us, and I can only hope that the language of love is able to both transcend and translate my thoughts, as you stand guard in your version of reality, being the hero in your own universe, safeguarding all that’s good and fragile and prone to getting lost.

In the unsettling stillness that lurks around, i find you waving your wand, trying so hard to fight those dementors that refuse to leave Little Whinging, and while I am no longer surprised at their haunting existence slowly becoming a part of thin air, as the serpentine smoke that gushes in the wind makes it easier for them to hide, and with all the sadness that seemingly lasts forever, all those dreams slowly finding their way in the pit of forgotten memories, people slowly succumbing to ravages of time, things falling apart centuries before they have to, with all the voicelessness that silences every ethereal echo that lost lovers whisper about, with a traumatising terror ogling everywhere, building walls after walls, making it harder to love beyond belief,

I can only be thankful for all the part you continue to play, for all the faith you keep intact, for all the times you continue to offer your might and magic to the world, battling through every single bruise, through all of the broken, bleeding words, and just being, not caring about the house points, no longer fighting for eternal glory that that Triwizard cup contains, recognising the actual enemies as the faults in ourselves, those shackles of prejudices we still seem to celebrate even after all these years, refusing to learn how to treat souls as souls, to not label beings in categories of house elves and muggles and pure-bloods and dragons, those boggarts that bully us into complexes, the treachery played by those imposters, making us surrender to the devastating danger that all this distance between souls create, disposing one to misunderstandings, to endings that end much before they have to, forcing beings to be afraid of all that vulnerability that love entails, of the idea of losing and leaving, of the very way in which this world seems to work.

Don’t you find yourself losing to the redundancy sometimes? As you continue to confront all the three unforgivable curses they send your way, do you not find it unfair at times that all those people, that never pause their running in circles even for a single second to thank you for your presence, for being such a good soul that the very idea of your existence seems too good to even exist. And how they become the first one to believe in all those stains they keep spilling on your reputation, never thinking twice about how everything affects everything,tell me this, does it not hurt ?

I see everything around me crashing apart. The whole idea of forevers and families being thrashed into pieces, with everything we have ever believed being beaten incessantly into pieces, I see explosions after explosions, and all the hopes being harassed over and over again, the possibilities of a love as strong as Molly’s seems impossible, and our tongues never stop craving for the chocolate cake with the words ‘happy birthday Harry’ carved upon it with green icing, cannot stop hoping for that cakemaker to crash down the door and forget the details about embellishing certain beings with pig tails when asked about them years later. And I am sorry if that offends you, but after all those betrayals your headmaster has bestowed upon you, it keeps getting harder to forgive him, despite the bewitching brilliance he possesses, there is this one thing about human incarnation that I have learnt in all these years, and it is that one needs to be as willing to live as much as they are to die for the ones they love. Did Dumbledore had to die on you? And I realise that the battle had to be yours own at the end, but what’s even the point of fighting if all you’re going to receive is a victory, with no survivors at all.

How do you survive with the very apparent absence of all those lights whose flickering went unnoticed? And there was no Madam Pomfrey to heal them, no curse breakers, no being to tell them that they mattered and were cared and loved, how do you live with all the weight of those stories that remained unheard, and I know you’re not a superhero or anything, but if you’re not, then what are you? And if you’re as human as me, tell me how do you live with yourself? Realising how they are making Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest to be applicable in reality, all those people and dreams being killed, what for ?

What are we fighting for ? And all these traditions we tend to protect, all those times we refuse to let people free, to let them be, tell me this, what good is it going to those that actually matter in your life? As you continue to let the world win, to let the society get away with everything,

And I realise we have no noseless villians to antagonize our cities, and most of the times, we end up annihilating our Lego houses ourselves, each man kills what he loves, Oscar Wilde said that, do you remember? We end up laughing at Luna’s sanity, cutting the whomping Willow, being our own versions of moaning Myrtle over time, learning to work under the tyranny of Umbridge.

Dobbie didn’t come to rescue his friends for this, did he? George didn’t lose his twin, his best friend for this, Lupin and Tonks didn’t die for this.

One of these days, the world will have to recognise and realise that. And I can only hope that that epiphany comes before you or I end.

Thank you for continuing to fight this war for the greater good, for keeping everything at stake for making this world a place where all the abandoned ones can find their home, their own Hogwarts at every corner in every city. And lets have Grawp deal with all those beings that force us to believe that that is not possible. I want you to never forget that you are a part of something bigger than yourself, that you are loved, and you matter, and at times when you miss those you’ve loved and lost, remember that love goes on, and as long as it will, they’ll never really leave you, and you wouldn’t need be a master of death to ever realise that, and I believe that this goodness of your soul will transform into horcruxes someday, it’ll never end and hope will surpass everything, and this strength of your witchcraft, mightier than the forces of gravity, it will rejuvenate every other day, as eleven year olds will run with their trollies and dreams in the walls between platform nine and ten, and we’ll find ourselves fascinated by sunsets riding the steel grey metro trains of our cities, and although the longing for butterbear will linger every while and then, I know we’ll be alright,

This very feeling of love will keep us alive, and we’ll never quit being the Phoenix that rises from its ashes.

I want you to count on me on saving the world, one word at a time. I am counting on you too, to save the sphere, one spell at a time.

And it’s been twenty one years since our cosmos joined ally with that of yours, and with each passing day, I’ve felt the feeling of affection for you to grow so much that I cannot imagine what I would have been without you being an indispensable part of my life, you have made it possible for me to survive, it’s because of you and just you that the fire inside my soul still grows
I cannot thank you enough.

One of these days, when we get a break from fighting these everyday battles, I would like to take you out for some butterbear, and doughnuts, maybe? Consider it a double date, I have always wanted to hear about Holyhead harpies from Ginny anyway. Is that a deal?

Thank you for Bertie Botts’ all flavored beans. It was one of the best things I have ever had.

Congratulations on all these years of togetherness!

I’m assuming you’d know the answer to whether I’m chasing cats and owls after all this time,

Always, you know, for always.

Be well, the chosen one (s)

We’ve got this!

Let’s not let the muggles get us down.

Changing the world, one word at a time

Loads of love

~ a wizard who never got her letter.

To whosoever it may concern, shut up.

As I sit under a state of deliberate motion, Taylor Swift screams in my head all the tales of how she knows since yesterday, everything has changed, but you are wrong my dear, you are extremely completely wrong. It’s been 18 years, 4 months and sixteen days you know, and it is all still the same. The same sickening feeling over and over, the same agony that makes you want to kill yourself, the same failure, the same thing you feel when you are getting rejected over and over, over and over,… And it’s crazy,.. crazy how at times, when you are fucking feeling this, no song, no soul, no food, no temptation finds it way to redeem your self. And what’s even more crazy is how desperate the child inside you is for a tight, warm hug, to be told that it is going to be all okay, even as you know it’s not,.. that this whole shit-hole you are a part of has made you realise that the broken pieces never really do heal, and you are in a constant sense of dilemma, of life, of love, of means of escape, of  another day of playing (and losing) the same game, 

You know at times I wonder how different I could have turned out if I had just not been so strong before, you are not always supposed to be taking every chance that comes in your way, right ? And, but, of course, as they say, none of our choices are of that utmost importance either, we are not in a ‘do-or-die’ scenario, we haven’t seen the great depression either, or the revolt of 1857, or Apollo’s landing on the moon, or anything that has made it to our history textbooks,.. we’re just a generation of millennials, and how we know nothing but swiping right/left, texting, putting earphones in our ears to do away the reality , live in our own fantasies, and of course, engage in what I am a part of right now, adolescent agonizing. 

And probably we are, probably we are, and as I think about it, I see no reason why the generation is considered to be dumb and trivial. 

We have nobody to look upto ,  from the beginning we are told never to trust strangers, we live in a constant fear of how an outsider can tear our whole life apart, how the world is selfish and strange, and how there are no good people left, and if you will be good, people won’t hesitate for a single moment to take an advantage of yours,

How our families aren’t our friends, how being bullied by them is perfectly alright because that’s what they do, we grow up thinking to change the world, to make it a better place to live in, we live under the impression for a good whole decade of our life, optimistic and enthusiastic, we take an almost unbearable burden on our shoulders, and we cannot wait to get started, that’s my moment, the world might not know of my name, but well, at least nobody will be afraid to trust others anymore,… We graduate in this simply perfect illusion, and the next you know, you are a part of the thousands aspiring for a better job, you have no time for your rantings, to sit and relax, to be, to not to be, we live in houses, not homes, and we always get this burning sensation as we watch a soul oblivious to the *ways of this world* flash their teeth in front of our eyes,  we got nobody to look up to, we don’t want to do the same to those and that too with no fault of their own,  and we see no harm in being too hard on ourselves,  the things we believe in stay, the belief doesn’t, mocked at and criticised, we learn to stay silent, we fight for a while for what we believe to be true, and as the voices echo at the empty corridors, so does die down the spirit,  we become a part of yet another tradition that has forgotten to live, we preach, we breathe, we exist,..

We don’t criticize you for what you do, for the cliché norms, for the infinite of traditions you follow, nor do we label you under years of self-sufficient tags, … We don’t blame you for this,.. we don’t make you want to kill yourself,

Please, just for a change,.. shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.
Thanking you,

Sincerely yours,

~ the dreamer you have killed.
Ps: I give up.

(Congratulations!)