creatingnikki

[creatingnikki]

“PUT A NUMBER IN MY ASK ;)”

— 1. Who was the last person you held hands with? 2. Are you outgoing or shy? 3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? 4. Are you easy to get along with? 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? 6. What kind of people are you attracted to? 7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? 15. What good thing happened this summer? 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? 17. Do you think there is life on other planets? 18. Do you still talk to your first crush? 19. Do you like bubble baths? 20. Do you like your neighbors? 21. What are you bad habits? 22. Where would you like to travel? 23. Do you have trust issues? 24. Favorite part of your daily routine? 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? 26. What do you do when you wake up? 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? 28. Who are you most comfortable around? 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? 30. Do you ever want to get married? 31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? 32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? 33. Spell your name with your chin. 34. Do you play sports? What sports? 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? 36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? 37. What do you say during awkward silences? 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? 40. What do you want to do after high school? 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? 43. Do you smile at strangers? 44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? 46. What are you paranoid about? 47. Have you ever been high? 48. Have you ever been drunk? 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? 51. Ever wished you were someone else? 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? 53. Favourite makeup brand? 54. Favourite store? 55. Favourite blog? 56. Favourite colour? 57. Favourite food? 58. Last thing you ate? 59. First thing you ate this morning? 60. Ever won a competition? For what? 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? 62. Been arrested? For what? 63. Ever been in love? 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? 65. Are you hungry right now? 66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? 67. Facebook or Twitter? 68. Twitter or Tumblr? 69. Are you watching tv right now? 70. Names of your bestfriends? 71. Craving something? What? 72. What colour are your towels? 72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? 75. Favourite animal? 76. What colour is your underwear? 77. Chocolate or Vanilla? 78. Favourite ice cream flavour? 79. What colour shirt are you wearing? 80. What colour pants? 81. Favourite tv show? 82. Favourite movie? 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? 84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? 86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? 87. First person you talked to today? 88. Last person you talked to today? 89. Name a person you hate? 90. Name a person you love? 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? 92. In a fight with someone? 93. How many sweatpants do you have? 94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? 95. Last movie you watched? 96. Favourite actress? 97. Favourite actor? 98. Do you tan a lot? 99. Have any pets? 100. How are you feeling? 101. Do you type fast? 102. Do you regret anything from your past? 103. Can you spell well? 104. Do you miss anyone from your past? 105. Ever been to a bonfire party? 106. Ever broken someone’s heart? 107. Have you ever been on a horse? 108. What should you be doing? 109. Is something irritating you right now? 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? 111. Do you have trust issues? 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? 113. What was your childhood nickname? 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? 115. Do you play the Wii? 116. Are you listening to music right now? 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? 118. Do you like Chinese food? 119. Favourite book? 120. Are you afraid of the dark? 121. Are you mean? 122. Is cheating ever okay? 123. Can you keep white shoes clean? 124. Do you believe in love at first sight? 125. Do you believe in true love? 126. Are you currently bored? 127. What makes you happy? 128. Would you change your name? 129. What your zodiac sign? 130. Do you like subway? 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 133. Favourite lyrics right now? 134. Can you count to one million? 135. Dumbest lie you ever told? 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? 137. How tall are you? 138. Curly or Straight hair? 139. Brunette or Blonde? 140. Summer or Winter? 141. Night or Day? 142. Favourite month? 143. Are you a vegetarian? 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? 145. Tea or Coffee? 146. Was today a good day? 147. Mars or Snickers? 148. What’s your favourite quote? 149. Do you believe in ghosts? 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? Source - catscuddlingandyou.tumblr.com (via catscuddlingandyou)

[creatingnikki]

I wash my face with iced coffee and go lie down in a field of french fries as you sprinkle validation on me from the clouds of your muddled heart. Now the only redemption will be when you will swoop me in your arms and throw me into the sea of memory when what you'd originally intended was the sea of oblivion. And so like Sisyphus I will keep swimming, going around in circles of all the times you told me you loved me and all the times you stabbed me in my third eye. Thank you for being so kind and thank you for showing me how ugly and distasteful such kindness can be.

Babe, you think smoking is the vice? Who will finally break it to you? The vice is being a stranger to your own heart.

[creatingnikki]

I had to write sex scenes. And you were of no help. You know I suck at visualisation. We should have experimented. Not for science—for poetry, for fiction. Isn’t that just as important?

But no, you weren’t of any help.

So now the sex scenes in my book probably read more quirky and funny than sexy. Which is fine. Because had we fucked more you would have realized laughter turns me on. Safety turns me on. Smiling at each other in that uncontrollable way like our souls have just invented and perfected a language that only the two of us will ever know turns me on.

Not when you keep asking to touch me when I keep saying no. Not when you wake me up and want to fuck me without even kissing me. Not when you point out the scars and blemishes on my body as I’m naked and ask me so clinically what those are.

Fuck you. No, actually how the fuck did I fuck you? This was supposed to be yearning. But now all it is is anger.

And the person I really want to fuck is the person I ghosted. Because how could I align in my head that I could just want someone in bed and not outside? Me, the poet, the lover girl. But sometimes don’t we all just deserve a good fuck?

Something in my heart must have so deeply cracked that this is how I speak of sex. Not like I ever called it “making love”. But this? This is a bit much. Who am I?

And why is that the eternal question. All the fucking roads lead to it.

[creatingnikki]

“What I would tell my teen self about mental health 1. Mental health will become a “trend” in a few years but nobody talks about it now. But you need to know it’s just a basic part of taking care of yourself. 2. Stop being a doormat/pushover thinking you’re being “kind” or “nice”. Listen, you can be at peace for a couple of years this way but at some point you are going to burn out and then become the opposite extreme. Don’t let that happen. Speak up. Be kind and be nice but first and foremost to your own self. 3. Love is whatever you let it be. Love can be jealous. Love can be possessive. Love can be abusive. Love can be whatever unacceptable shit you let yourself be subject to. People do unspeakable things on the name of love. Love has no definition. That’s dangerous. Whatever happened happened. But from now on know this, love is overrated. But freedom, joy and safety are not. 4. People say you’re the writer of the book of your life. Bull shit. There’s a lot we have no control over. We are not the writer of our life. However, we can be the editor. Whatever is handed to us, we can edit. That power is solely ours. Even if a chapter is so bad and painfully written, we can somehow salvage it so that it holds the book of our life together, so that we can get through it and still continue. 5. Their mental health is important. But so is yours. So you have the right to leave. It’s okay. It’s not selfish. But if you expect to get back in touch when you see them doing better, that is. Because then you leaving wasn’t for your mental health but because you simply didn’t care enough. 6. People apologize and do the same things over and over and over. They don’t need the benefit of the doubt after the 2nd time. Every other chance you give them is taking away a chance from you for living a better life. Don’t do that to yourself. 7. Don’t take everything you read/hear on face value. But don’t have your eyes on auto eye-roll either. Find that balance between ignoring and believing. 8. Just because you express and feel emotions more intensely than most others doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you or that you’re emotionally or mentally unstable. You’re just more capable of feeling, more aware of everything and more reactive to every word and sensation than those around you. It may seem like a drawback at first but it’s your strength, you’ll realize that in the long run.”

— creatingnikki

[creatingnikki]

I’ve been on a call for 31 minutes and all I’ve said is “hmm” “ohhh” “ahhh” and I know for a fact that this person will go on like this for another 31 minutes unless I ask them to shut up. How do such people exist?

[creatingnikki]

I’m always that woman at the airport asking if strange objects are allowed in carry-on/checked-in luggage.

This time: a green painted pebble. Heavy enough to be considered a weapon.

The security guy raised an eyebrow. “Where exactly are you from, ma’am?”

“Mumbai,” I said.

He nodded. As if that explained everything. As if whackiness, when wrapped in humidity and honking rickshaws, sourced from the city of dreams was suddenly… permissible.

Can’t wait to go home to the air tasting like salt, pav bhaji, and acceptance.

[creatingnikki]

The drinks tonight were well earned. And they didn’t make me sad. I had people around me that I wanted to warmly bid goodbye before my flight tomorrow. I cried still because one of them looked me in the eye and named my wounds, told me she had the same and how she healed them. Then I exchanged le bise with my new French friend (customary cheek kisses) and then we went watched the stars. The clouds were possessive of them and hid a majority but we still spotted a few. And two fireflies too. This is how I want to drink alcohol. To celebrate, to unwind, in a room full of people, a lot of whom I like, with good food and purpose. Not as a self destructive thing. Not to make myself feel more lonely and sad. Not as a pass to do something reckless. There was no guy I wanted to call or text after getting tipsy tonight. I was present. I was laced in joy. I was aware of my own existence. Yes, that’s the only way I want to consume alcohol going forward.

[creatingnikki]

Choosing myself means choosing boredom over the thrill of a hot and cold guy. Choosing myself means choosing to sit with the meh emotions over reaching out to an ex just to feel a blink of comfort. Choosing myself means choosing to brainstorm ways to feel less lonely than quick dopamine hits from flirting with idiots online. Choosing myself means choosing to weather storms over reaching for the closest open door when I don’t know anything but its nameplate. Choosing myself means choosing to be a bitch in someone else’s story over trying to change their narrative about it. Choosing myself means choosing what’s healthy for me. Not what’s nice or noble or convenient for someone else.

[creatingnikki]

It’s been a while—get out those beers, ask the fireflies to be our fairy lights tonight. If you can sit next to me without wanting to kiss me, I will call you a friend and mean it.

Pizza pizza pizza. You like the idea of it more than you like the third slice. Is that you with everything? Always craving, never keeping.

Nothing scares me more than your inability to know and understand your own feelings and thoughts. Not even the beetles, not even the frogs. Okay maybe the spiders.

But gosh, how can you not know your own existence? Why must I read it and then fight its case in front of you only for you to deny it vehemently and then later tell me I was right.

The fireflies will burn your forehead, you idiot. They are on my side. And you can have all this beer. I’m going to go binge on the wind’s obscure wine.

[creatingnikki]

Hiked the Himalayas, ate the most delicious pizza in the mountains, pet the dog, bought the face cream and lip balm, moisturised, called up my mom. What am I to do now? In bed, it’s raining, it’s been a fun day. But yet I crave. Yet I yearn. Yet I’m alone. Yet I’m restless. And now a headache approaches. The feeling of someone is missing…when will it go away?

[creatingnikki]

Online dating these days has become even more scarier than earlier. Everyone is lonely and yet there are piles and piles of expectations. It is so hard to see who’s genuine and who is not. I hope you find the best kind of love there is 🦋

Hey love, thank you for this message and for acknowledging how messed up and UGH the dating scene is these days. I feel so disheartened when I see people around me in these long term relationships and I’m like why am I the fucked up exception.

[creatingnikki]

I’ve lost hope in people romantically. I’m so jaded that I will delete my dating app profile right after asking someone for their number because the thought of getting on a call with a new person and trying to get to know them while letting them get to know me makes me want to take the cigarette in my hand and put it in my eye. The last person I met through a dating app said all the right things to get me in bed. Then had a panic attack when that failed. Got me to soothe him and let him cry in my lap and then succeeded. I ended up in his bed. The point is, I want to treat people like people. But when you consecutively have experiences where people don’t treat you like a person but either as a sexual object or as an entertainment or as a matter of convenience, how do you not feel like being a little shit yourself? Being open and kind and warm and caring and honest only leads you to being crushed like a fallen flower. Even as I type all of this I know I know I know this cannot be it. But gosh. It surely feels like it. Then you see people online, the very same people, on their social media accounts saying all the right things. Acting like softbois who only want love and cuddles and you’re like yeah right. The worst is when they really are deluded themselves. Like the ones who are actively manipulative? Pathetic but less scary. But the ones who don’t even realize the gap between the image of themselves they are creating and projecting and who they actually are and how they will be when in such situations? That’s less pathetic, sure, but 100x more scary. Because a romantic, open heart will believe them. That’s all we want to believe. That people who say they want love, the real, earnest type actually want it. Because we cannot be the only fools. Are we the only fools? Am I…the only fool?

[creatingnikki]

Hi.

I appreciate that you always post relevant, real, and sometimes emotional content. I hope that what you are processing through your writing helps you grow into the best version of yourself.

Don't forget to be awesome,

Anon.

Thank you, Anon. I appreciate you taking the time to drop by with such sweet words and wishes for me 💖🌸

[creatingnikki]

crash and burn. you have the lighter, you have the cigarettes. you ride your high horse, gravity in reverse— so what’s keeping you from the final fall?

run— but you can’t. swim— but you only drown.

now is not the time to make friends with the sun. your loyalty will always be: bloody and blue. you belong to the night, to the moon, to the looneys and the monsoon truths.

no sugar, no sparkle, no play, no pretend can wash you clean of the emptiness you house within.

and you know who the god of that is? you.

every time you showed grace, every time you forgave, every time you stayed silent— you created it.

this emptiness.

the grace, the kindness, the compassion— they were never meant to be gifts left on the altar of the unworthy and each and every last one of them has been.

and so now: say it. say bhenchod. do it. pick up the match. strike, babe. then walk into the flame like it’s your first true home.

you've been crashing, now it's time to burn.

[creatingnikki]

Apne dil ki baat kehne se koi aur apna nahi ho jata—baat parayi ho jati hai.

(Saying what’s in your heart doesn’t make someone yours—it just makes the feeling no longer yours)

— Karan Johar

Wording is everything. Sentiment is everything. My father always tried to drill essentially the same thing in my head since I was young but it had the opposite impact on me. He wanted me to be private about my affairs, not show my cards, and be selective in what I choose to disclose and to whom. And sure I was always a rebel. The kid who wore fluorescent pink socks and grass green converse to high school that had a strict uniform dress code. And I lied about where I was after school. And I cheated on tests. And I used cuss words since the age of seven. So is it truly shocking that the one thing my father kept trying to get me to see the wisdom in—being sus of others, being discreet, never revealing your true thoughts and emotions—I decided to go completely against? In fact, I not only chose to completely ignore or go completely against but a third worse thing: I became a writer.

But yeah now I hear these words in softer words, emotionally laced, from another man and it speaks to my bruised heart and my wavering faith and my exhausted soul.

It makes me ask myself:

Did telling him about my abuse get him close to me? Or did just leave me feeling exposed and still unheld?

Did telling her about my empty fridge fix anything? Or did it just leave me alone still trying to figure out what my next meal will be?

Did telling them about my battle fields get them to understand me or love me? Or did it just give them more strategies to strike me?

My father was right.

That is not a statement you will hear me say often. But I’m nothing if I don’t give credit where credit is due. So, yes, my father was right.

I want to be done telling people my thoughts and feelings. But I write. Isn’t that such a catch 22?

I want to tell a story without having to confess anything.

And in doing your best to not reveal yourself, you inevitably will reveal everything.

So shall I then speak to the collective people instead of the singular person? Any one who knows me as me, not me the writer, let them no longer know my heart. I’m shutting it down. Out of order. Go back to where you came from. Leave me alone.

I’m exhausted of the feeling of being left more desolate, more cold, more bare, more empty than before. These conversations? They drain me. They take away from me. They make a mockery out of my suffering, a circus out of my brain, tea out of my people, a joke out of me, and a punchline out of my heart.

Oh, no, wait—that last one is all me.

[creatingnikki]

I am not a book

I let people go through me like they would books. I tell them things that are interesting, intriguing, fun. I share with them stories that are personal, intimate, warm, and burning. I give them all the context, the characters, the timeline. The plot twists and the cliffhangers. Oh, there’s no better living narrator than me. I tweak, I refine, I structure in real time—according to their disposition, their mood, their temperament. I match their pace. I cut the paragraphs short when their attention begins to waver. I throw in jokes when the grief gets too heavy. I make myself quotable. But the real kicker? I get them comfortable. I make them feel seen. Heard. Reflected. And then I make them feel special. I begin including them in my narrative—I describe them, I archive their anecdotes, I give them real estate in the book. I write them in.

But I am not a book. And even if I were—just how many people even read books today? They get distracted by other forms. They start finding me tedious. They think they know me. They believe they’ve learned something from me. Gained new perspectives. Had a few laughs. Gotten the space to be a bit soft, a bit human. And then? Then they want to put me away. They place me on a shelf, in the corner of their room, next to unread magazines and unopened birthday cards. They cram me in. And forget all about me. Sometimes they discard me altogether—quietly, while “organising” their life. What? Don’t you know? They need that shelf space now. For lube, condoms, and other things that offer a faster dopamine hit. They’re not readers. They’re skimmers. And I—I am a longform girl in a reels-first world. In a world where people can barely read an Instagram caption longer than five words, I have the heart of a poet.

I let people go through me like a book. Right from the first page, from the first meeting—they have access to my mind, my heart, my spine. They hold me in their hands and think it means they deserve the ending. I keep thinking they’ll keep reading. That they’ll annotate me. Talk about me with their friends. Come back to their favourite lines and co-write chapters with me. But no. They leave me lying there. Half-read. Misunderstood. Soft-spined and slightly stained. A lot of the times, they don’t even notice when the bookmark slips. They just never return. And I, fool that I am, keep writing. Keep narrating. Keep hoping. Keep letting people go through me like they would go through books. Accessible bestseller at an airport bookstore, the one guaranteed to engage you, stimulate you, entertain you. But also the one you leave easily after you devour it and can't really remember what it was about.

Oh, a poet’s heart is always such a fool.

[creatingnikki]

The sky is bright. And full of new stars to be discovered. I wish I could have told one of them how much they meant me when the moment was more correct to do so, but alas, that type of love was not meant to be. This year has been one of deep emotional and life growth. Things get better with time. Love. And acceptance of what we can and can not control. For both of us. Have a good summer. And as always, I hope you are doing okay.

Reading this felt like a warm hug full of comfort and hope, though tinged with sweet sorrow.

May the new stars that are discovered make your heart light and bring you peace and delight x