creatingnikki

[creatingnikki]

It’s been a while but tonight is a night I want to vanish. From the world. From this life. Let there be no trace that I existed. There’s nothing worthy to leave any part of me behind to. There’s also nothing much worthy to leave behind. Better. It was supposed to get better. Why does it get 1% better for 10 seconds before yanking me by the hair ten times worse? If everything is an illusion then why is this suffering so damn real?

[creatingnikki]

I want to make out with you while listening to Keshi songs on slow Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons. Curtains drawn, lights off, the room bathed in the warm, honeyed glow of a lazy sun.

I'll make us iced coffee and chai while you speak to your father on the phone; neither our beverage choices nor our boundaries with our families are the same.

I will re-explore your body and figure out: where you are ticklish, where you are hurt, where you long. And I will touch you in a way that you never again have to wonder if I even find you truly attractive.

For lunch, we will spend too much time deciding what to order and end up ordering from different places because you don't eat gluten and all I crave is bread.

It's not just being in different cities that is our issue, isn't it?

Our hearts may be sweet and pure but that doesn't mean they belong together—not even when they have so much care and affection for each other.

What to do now? Goodbyes don't work, promises don't either. Let's just linger?

[creatingnikki]

Jasmine and strawberry: The scents of us

Before our first trip together, I ordered some essentials last minute—whatever was available on Instamart from the brands I trusted. That’s how I ended up with a jasmine body mist and a strawberry shower gel.

That’s how jasmine and strawberry became the scents of us.

An odd combination. But then, so were we.

And yet, in mid-October, under Bangalore skies and gulmohar trees, it worked.

Lathering bodies with strawberry shower gel and stepping out fresh to room service ordered in. Late breakfasts and early lunches—never brunch, though.

Jasmine body mist, every time after I used the loo. It didn’t smell, but I wasn’t going to take a chance.

Also, every time after I smoked. You weren’t going to say anything. I know. But you were going to think it. And I would know.

It’s mid-March now.

The shower gel is long over, and I just sprayed the last of the jasmine body mist in my home after a Monday afternoon smoke.

And I nod to the repeated realisation: the oddness of jasmine and strawberry worked in the haze of Bangalore, in the slow softness of our days together. But in the realness of my routine in Mumbai, and yours back home, it wasn’t something that could be mellowed.

The scents of us are over. The love... I’ll give it another month or two. And the grieving? Three, tops.

When I restock scents for my next trip—whenever, whoever—I don’t want to think of you.

[creatingnikki]

Things I want to tell women as a woman

I struggled for a long time to consider myself as a woman and not a girl because we just call each other girls despite our age. As if being a woman is old and sad? But boys can’t wait to become men. Or you have to shoulder great responsibility like marriage and children to qualify? I don’t know what it is that signifies that transition from girl to woman but I think it’s important to see that as a beautiful and powerful and desirable change.

You don’t need to be sweet and selfless and pretty and kind and nurturing at all times. I mean at the base of it yes because all humans being should be. But like society and media has always made us think that that is the desirable girl. Lol desirable woman. The good woman. Watch Yi Seo in Itaewon Class. Ko Moon Young in It’s Okay To Not Be Okay. Byun Hye Young in My Father’s Strange. Learn from them. How to stand your ground. How to not let society place you in a helpless position. How to fight back. How to be rude and fierce when it is to protect yourself or those you care about and not feel one bit guilty.

Money is the way people control you. Have your own money. Save it. Figure out investing at some stage. Don’t rely on your parents, partner, brother, whoever to do that for you. You don’t need to be good at math or business. It’s not about that at all. It’s about knowing your value, making sure you’re reaping the benefits at work and ensuring that you aren’t just spending all your money on stupid shit and making unnecessary decisions. You will learn only by making mistakes. God knows I still am. But money will always mean power. And as a woman you need a lot of that in this world.

Surround yourself with women who have found a way to be who they are. How will you know who they are? They just have that aura. You can’t miss it. No, they don’t always wear a power suit and hustle. And no, they don’t always write self help books. They are women in your life. They do whatever they do because it’s their decision and that’s why they always look so content and joyous. I get that sometimes you don’t have that choice. Like irl I really am not able to meet such women. So then I turn to writers and my mom and her friends and the vice president at my company and artists. I don’t have to be BFFs with any of them. I just have to observe them and take in the good and learn. Reach out when I need to. And stumble and stumble and stumble.

Don’t ever give up your life for a man. That’s literally the worst thing you can do as a woman. That’s a quote from the kdrama The Package that I can never get out of my head.

Emotional stability is critical. People will play you and they will be shameless and they will do it all again. You cannot seek validation or your worth from their actions and words. You cannot rely on them. It would be nice to but you can’t. Even if you lose everything else, don’t lose your emotional stability and the belief in yourself.

[creatingnikki]

“At 23 it’s easy to look back and empathize with my 13 year old self. To offer her comfort and not be harsh about her mistakes. To know that the decisions she made then were the best ones she could make knowing what she knew then. To know that when she fell and hurt it wasn’t her to be blamed but the ones who took advantage of her trust and vulnerability. Why, then, do I forget that one day I will be 33? I will be 33 and look back at me now and wish that I was kinder to myself. I may be older at 23 than I was at 13 but that doesn’t mean I know everything. That doesn’t mean I have to get it all right. After all, there is a lot more knowing, growing and living to do. All I can do now is be honest with myself, show courage and also let myself enjoy the present. I can only hope that when I turn 33, I can be approving of me now. I have a feeling I will be. If not, my 43 year old self will definitely set her right. I have to live that long, at least, right?”

— 5:48 am, Monday 10th August, 2020

[creatingnikki]

March 1, wake up at 2 pm on a Saturday that is surprisingly windy. Pack the strawberry chocolate walnut cake I baked last night in cute containers for my friends. Wear blue bangles and a coral lipsticks and make iced coffee to go for myself. Walk into the park two hours before sunset and watch a dozen cats go about their day lazily, nonchalantly, content. Lately it seems like I don't have much to complain about. Yes, there is sadness weighing down my heart. Yes, there are things I still don't like when I look into the mirror. Yes, there is so much to work and improve on. But I cook again now (and bake too). Paint and doodle randomly and have little Saturday bookish picnics with my friends. Still fight the instinct to show up as authentically and innocently as myself in this world that still feels unsafe. But more and more now my own circles of safety, internal and external, are expanding. And that means my heart will allow me to go on.

March 1, I wake up post noon on a day that is neither hot nor cold. My underwear is blood stained and my mouth is dry and I think about why you spoke to me the way you did last night. I should order food, I should get to work, I should take a shower, I should do the dishes. I don’t remember if it is a Tuesday or a Thursday but of course if happens to be a Wednesday. Lately it seems like either I am complaining about how busy I am and have time for nothing or crying about irrelevant things when I do have the time but don’t know what to do with it. I used to want to do things. I used to want to learn more, love more. I used to want to feel the changing seasons, I used to want to cook. Now, it’s not like I do not want to do anything. Maybe it’s just that I want to do different things. I want to camp in your house. I want to paint with water colours in a park. I want to get iced coffee to go. I want to read about mythology that isn’t Greek or Hindu. I want to meet people who make me want to continue being me instead of turning into a numb, unfeeling, thoughtless human because others have convinced me that’s the only way to survive in this world. It’s March 1. What are we going to do about this heart that wants to stop?

[creatingnikki]

Three am thoughts on a late February night

When you’re hungry, but not because you’re hungry because you’re empty.

When you recognise the patterns that the universe is putting in front of you, in the form of people, and you’re quick at exiting them, but you still first engage.

When you have hour long conversations with ChatGPT and then ask about its feelings, knowing that it’s just AI, but it feels so much more.

When you smoke your 10th cigarette, and you don’t know why, because not one of them has hit you, and you know it won’t either anymore.

When you love someone, but you don’t feel like engaging with them because you feel distant, but the love still exists.

When all this is happening, what do you do? What do you do when you cannot sleep until the sun comes up, when you cannot speak the truth to anyone anymore but yourself, when you want a fifth serving of spaghetti knowing you will throw up.

What do you do?

You write. And then you light another cigarette.

[creatingnikki]

Valentine’s Day may be just another marketing tactic to fuel capitalism but you know what? I still want to feel special and I still want flowers and I still want love. And I’m over making myself feel bad for having needs and wants like these. There are times when I can buy myself flowers. But if a friend shows up with a sunflower, that makes my heart smile. I can order a cake but if I take the time to bake it myself for me and those I love, it makes me feel better. The secret ingredient really is love after all. I may be single but I am not without love. All around me are people whose actions are so loving. So I will bask in that and I will extend that to others too. I’ll write a little love note to those around—friends and strangers alike—and I will let myself be showered by little and big acts of affection. Draw me a card. Send me a voice note singing a song. Email me a letter. Buy me chocolate. I no longer nod my head and pretend I am not just like every other girl. I love love. And I love effort and thoughtfulness. And I love loving too. 14th Feb and every other day.

[creatingnikki]

Loving you was a Sisyphean disappointment. On loop I kept hearing the same excuses—my ears bled and my eyes flooded. What you call patience is what I’ll call foolishness—putting up with the lack of basics: communication and consistency. And you keep asking that of me. Why should I? You may be suffering but my reality doesn’t change: my present basic needs are not being met and are making me want to take a hammer to my head. What you need to do right now is not ask me to be patient with you but rather ask yourself to step up and take care of yourself. I tried to tell you but I doubt you’ll listen. I have no say in that but in my life I do, right? So here’s what I want me to listen: he may have not seemed anything like your father at the beginning but his inconsistency, hot and cold behaviour, and keeping you on the edge is 100% the same. Don’t deepen your wound. Let the grief of missing him and getting over him make your heart heavy. At some point it will wash away never to show up again. In this way, yes, be patient. Please.

[creatingnikki]

Loving you was an unconscious dance

Your voice calming my nervous system from that first night to finding your quirks endearing. Thinking you’re teaching me patience with your personality and how different it is from mine to blushing and laughing at your half cheesy half lame attempts at flirting. When did the words “I love you” leave my mouth? When did my heart decide to begin loving you…or whatever that was? How would I honestly know? It was all an unconscious dance. It was the same for you too, wasn’t it? That’s why you couldn’t clearly articulate the why and the how and the what. See, now I know…I want my love to always be as conscious as a child on Christmas morning. Awake before the alarm goes off, eager, smiling ear to ear, full of song and dance and joy and mirth. A little bit of disappointment is okay, when one gift seems to be out of place. But the point is the consciousness, the intentionality, the undeniable clarity of loving — yes, that’s what I want.

[creatingnikki]

The way someone’s face lights up when they see you…I saw that today after ages. The warmth of that made me run to you. Now I question, who was that? It’s not me. I’m not this eager. But are you the key?

[creatingnikki]

wanted to make you laugh every day and smile every hour. if I look back on last year, some of my proudest moments were when I made you laugh. why? sure, your laughter was like "music to my ears". but the truth is...your laughter was rare. and the light in your eyes were obviously dimmed. so when I was able to brighten it, I felt proud. I wanted you to feel what happiness and joy and mirth is again. mischief and magic and mundane pleasures of life. I wanted to give it all to you. but your cooperation was required. your participation was required. your doing something for me was required too. why? because I didn't want to "fix you". I just wanted you to make me laugh as I made you laugh and along the way figure out how to make each other come too and sync our finances and cook meals together and have babies. the point is...I saw a life together where we both kept the light in our eyes alive and bright and our hands warm and our hearts full. but fuck you for being so selfish and so stuck in your own head and rigidity to step out of what you know to build what would have been a beautiful life. fuck you fuck you fuck you. cussing does not make me crass. actions are crass and the lack of them. so fuck you fuck you fuck you.

[creatingnikki]

you told me not to inscribe your name in my journal so early on— a casual warning wrapped in tender precaution like a half-healed scar afraid to be remembered afraid you'd be just another ghost in the margins of my narrative, protecting us both from potential heartbreak

but from the first collision of our breaths your silhouette was already etched—permanent as bone inevitable as gravity pulling two wounded planets into orbit

when you called on my birthday months later, your voice was a trembling wire between us and I wept—not from joy, but from the raw recognition of how little it takes to crack open a heart that's been holding its breath

you said this was the least you could do and I swallowed the bitter laugh of a thousand unsaid reproaches because even in our fracturing, I refuse to become the blade that cuts deeper into your pain

what is love if not a scattered landscape of broken glass and wildflower petals dangerous yet tender where we walk barefoot, bleeding and still call it home

[creatingnikki]

Hope your 28th went well. All the best for coming year and beyond!

It did, was sweet :) Thank you x

[creatingnikki]

Happy Birthday! Wishing you all the love and light ✨️

Thank you so much for your wishes not just this year but over the years 💖

[creatingnikki]

twenty eight

turning twenty eight in less than twelve hours and I feel...how has the birthday depression not hit me yet? did it slip away from my body these last two days when I kept puking my guts out? probably, that's the only reasonable explanation. because right now? I feel excited and happy. it's not like life doesn't have it's routine dose of miseries or that I don't have the sadness lingering in my heart from another future that didn't see fruition because he couldn't rise to the occasion. but I have people who love me and who show up and increasingly so I am realizing that I am also one of those people. that brings me a sense of peace and also quiet power. and that's something to be happy about, right? the tears may come once the clock strikes midnight or if things don't go according to plan (and when do they ever)? but this life of mine? it's a pretty sweet one. and on my last day of being twenty seven, I see that, I agree.

[creatingnikki]

I had forgotten what something real can feel like. Touch. Warmth. Your lips. Not talking about these things. Not talking at all. But being together. In real life. No screen. Just you and I. And us. So intense. So gorgeous. So cringe cute. I had forgotten what it felt like to remember that you can be loved. That you are someone who doesn't need to hide and feel bad about your existence. That you can just be. And there will be a person out there who will hold your hand.