#sharma shayar ho gyi

[vellhighbandi]

Men So Ghastly

Our brothers that supported and cheered for us When did they turn into mysogynists who leered at us When do sons turn into the very monster mothers warn their daughters about When do the boys we played with start believing in the words some idiots spout How can he be a doting father a moment and a bloody molester in the next Since when was stalking romantic, was consent only to be found in an old text I ask a question, so many whispered to their soul so quietly How did the boys so lovely, grow into men so ghastly? Was it the society that poisoned young minds to force us apart Did it shape those malleable minds into an axe that cleaves our heart Was it the wrong parenting, that somehow instilled these ideas of superiority Gave their children the ridiculous notions of being the ultimate authority But then how did siblings grow up to have ideologies so different The fault never truly laid solely at the feet of their parent If they were born that way then how do brothers differ so. If it's the peer pressure then where did the conscience go? Should the question be flipped to look at what some did right? Instead of only looking for the faults of the ones that went off the light These men that respect everyone, where were they brought up? These that talk instead of hitting when a disagreement does flare up I hope for a world where they aren't like a needle in a haystack A world where women don't always have a set of eyes on their back A world where the girls can play into the night with the boys Where a girl doesn't lose her innocence at an age to play with toys

-Sharma

[vellhighbandi]

Mama I don't want kids, I say. For the hundredth time. Mother has this look on her face, it sits still- something between disappointment and bewilderment. But who will take care of you, she says, when you're older? And that is a rotten feeling. To believe that a child is only as good as what it does for its parents. To believe you are only as good as you give. To believe you owe someone, only to feel love. Who deserves this? Who deserves this wretched snarling beast sitting in my chest, whispering, shrieking- give, give, give.

-Ritika Jyala, The Beast that makes me Give

[ultimategenius]

Sharma Ji

Side blog acknowledging the existence of my artist side. Will be reblogging my works with "sharma shayar ho gyi" and expanding on the lore. Also will be posting excerpts from ongoing works in progress as well as shit that alters brain chemistry. As well as spamming on the "Sharma ke likhne waqt ke nakhre" cuz that's who me is.

[vellhighbandi]

जब कोई कीमती चीज़ टूटती हैं आवाज़ मीलों तक सुनाई दे ज़रूरी नहीं होता। कभी कभी कुछ बेशकीमती रिश्ते अंधेरे सन्नाटों में हमेशा के लिए शांत हो जाते हैं और किसीको कानों कान ख़बर भी नहीं होती। इसका मतलब ये नही होता की वो रिश्ता सालों प्यार से संजोया नहीं था, बस कुछ कारणों से या गलतियों से, वो बस अब तुम्हारा नहीं होता।

[vellhighbandi]

Sharmaji (Not Namkeen)

Naam to suna hi hoga (a million apologies for any of the self entitled Sharma's you might have encountered...) Technically speaking intro dena humko aata nahi kyunki hum hai distracted ultra pro max insaan. Bakte bakte kab kahan kis tangent pe nikal jate humko khudko pata nhi hota. The thing is don't be surprised if you randomly find words that don't make sense (they do, just not to you) cause I'm a multilingual insaan with a few words of lotsa languages thrown into my vocabulary making a right khichdi of words and feelings up there. But then again sometimes I don't even understand what's going on up there myself so we can drink to that. (I don't drink. We'll be getting high on jaljeera and air)

As for this blog, it's a metaphysical (is that the right word?) representation of me (I guess?) Not really sure. Definitely this insanity is a part of me. But is not all of me. I mean agar khudko utna accha se jaan hi liya hota to phir zindagi me confusion thori hota. Chale gye hote hum bhi kahin pahado me zindagi ke sach ki khoj me. As for the people I have met here. They are downright amazing. Maane kya hi bataye. Simp karna ho, ya laash thikane lagane ke upaay dhundna ho, they will have my back. (Oh and don't even think of hurting them, you won't just regret it but regret your entire existence. And that's a fucking promise)

Wanna read me turn Lilac's brain children into psychologists horror?

Compromised . Chapters : One, Two, Three.

To coming to the reason why me actually went ahead made this intro post... My tags:-

[vellhighbandi]

Sometimes holding on with your everything hurts you. Sometimes you need to let go. Sometimes just holding on becomes strangling. It snuffs out whatever could have been left. Leaves your palms scarred with the vestiges of what once was. Sours the memories you could have treasured.

Sometimes it's better to let go.

-Me.

When you find love, you take it. You grab it with both hands and you do everything in your power not to let it go. You can’t just walk away from it and expect it to linger until you’re ready for it.

Colleen Hoover

[vellhighbandi]

Wrote this a long time ago... And on demand of (1) person (the other probably hasn't seen the post)

Here it is.

My Heart - Shattered Glass

My heart shattered not once but over and over It's been years and still I am not yet back together You were never worth it, then why do I even bother Still my heart beats faster whenever you came closer You thought that I would never know You were out of love for me, ages ago Thought you could keep up the charade Believed me to unaware of the games you played I knew, the day you found your other beloved I stayed, paid the price with my tears and blood You broke me, with the warning I had in advance Yet before me you stood, asked for one last chance There was nothing more left to gain And then I lost myself to you again You brought me nothing but pain And yet I fell in love with you again Every moment together you drove me insane And yet here I am, crawling back to you again

-Sharma

[vellhighbandi]

Compromised

Chapter One

POV: June

It had been years and still, all his nights, he lay awake, still thinking of that one night that changed his life. He was never one to judge, always made sure that she understood his care, his worry; for him, she would always come first. And yet when it mattered the most he couldn't do it, couldn't keep his conscience silent. 

Couldn’t keep the questions from plaguing his love story forever. 

He left her. 

He had thought she would come back with an explanation, an excuse, something. That she would want him more than keeping a secret, but who was he kidding. That wasn't what she wanted; he wasn't worth it for her.

It had been years since he found her with a knife sticking out her gut. Her eyes quiet and contemplative like they always were. In her hands, the dagger she loved so much. Intricately carved in a remote village she travelled all alone to get it done. Its blade, so delicately moulded, buried in a neck, blood seeping down its redwood hilt.

He stood there watching as she pulled the knife away and waited as the blood dripped down her gut. He stood there silent and shocked as she pushed the corpse off of her, her dagger still sticking out. 

She raised her head.

Their eyes met.

POV: Anamika

Their eyes met.

It wasn't like the first time they had locked gazes as strangers and grew closer every day. Grew close enough that their eyes told the other every thing that needed to be said, and everything they couldn’t voice out. But today his eyes felt foreign, hurt and most of all, scared. 

He was scared of her. 

Maybe he didn't know it yet or maybe he's just realising it but he was scared of her; and she knew it.

She knew she had to make a move; she couldn't just let the silence stay. Letting  the knife drop, she went right ahead and pushed him against the wall he was standing along,“You know nothing.”

A lie,

Bold faced and white,

A statement with implications clear,

A request it was meant to be,

To understand.

An order it came out as,

For silence.

“Are we clear, my love?” 

The last two words left a bitter taste in her mouth as if she puked out her lungs, like that one time. 

And she let the impulse to kiss him overwhelm her. But she couldn't. 

She dare not. She wasn't worthy. 

She never was, but once she had been selfish. She was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong… 

She pulled him down and kissed his nose. A soft brush of lips  on his red button nose on his red flushing face. 

Red like the blood sliding down her legs, red like the blood pooling beneath the dagger she treasured, her amate was living up to her name in this moment.

He was adora- no he wasn't hers anymore. He couldn't be… was too pure… too righteous… still innocent, childlike… 

POV: June

He was not surprised when he saw her with a blade in hand but he went numb when she shrugged that body off her. Walked with her shoulders pulled back, hands stuck to the side like the cadet she once had been. 

Those years of training, the habits that she still fell back on when things didn't really go the way she wanted. 

Chills crept through his spine.

But did he even know her? At this point he seemed to have no idea what she might have wanted or planned. Her words slid off him at first and then his brain kickstarted. The shock came back rushing and with it came a- fear?

A bead of sweat rolled down his spine leaving his mouth dry, he gulped trying to wet his mouth. Words flitted through his mind. Not stopping, not pausing, not making sense.

“But y- you- you killed him Anamika…”

His words trailed out as he realised he was speaking to someone who was probably desperately trying her best to not break down. There was guilt in him but the fear was greater. It was with her words next that he knew shouldn't have assumed. He knew her and yet… yet he… shouldn't have said that… shouldn't have been the one to judge her…

POV: Anamika

His stuttered words in that breaking voice broke her. Her face remained steadfastly loyal, not a hint of the carnage raging within. 

But she couldn’t keep it blank anymore.

She smiled. 

Something cruel and disgusting exactly like her.

"I had my reasons, June,” she had to make sure he understood. 

She knew it was pointless and yet she couldn’t let him think she was insane; she was but she couldn’t let him know that.

“Trust me not one soul will grieve him.”

Trust me. Oh how bad she wanted to scream those words at him. 

Be a hypocrite and self serving like she was and ask for his trust when she couldn't even let him into the first layers of  her mind; not that it was a particularly pretty place, she herself felt caged, suffocated, stifled there, in her own damn mind. 

How could she ask for his support when in return all she could give was nothing but grief and pain and hurt and disappointment wrapped in her tainted love and bloodied hands? How could she ask for anything more from him…

Blaring alarm lights reflected off the blood on her face giving it a deep red hue once, and then a deep purple. The colour she loved. 

The colour she identified with. 

The colour she called royal… majestic… the only colour that mattered to her. And right now she, adorned by her colour looks something divine.

Almost mythical. 

Almost grotesque.

She looked like vengeance woke up and chose war. 

She looked like retribution, her gait secure and head held high. 

Walking away seemed to be the only thing she could do if she didn't want to break down in front of him. She didn't want to be a burden on him anymore. He was already overburdened with the spiral of her thoughts, he doesn't need to see all that blood in reality too. 

She walked away without turning to look back; she walked away leaving a dying man, her scared lover and her withering relationship behind. 

She left him with the corpse of a half naked man and her jacket. Walked away. Brutally ignoring his scared scream for her. She keeps going, not hearing it, trying not to atleast, hoping never to contemplate if he was scared of her or for her. But her mind won't be kind. It never really was.

With voices heavy in her mind, a new burden on her shoulders, another mark on her tainted soul, she walked away from the two relations she held dear.Her accomplice in insanity, her amate and her only sanity, her June. She leaves them behind this time. They are not hers anymore.

Madam co-author : Lilac

The fans from original already going gaga : Sesky Single Aunt , Disha , @octoberpdf .

Tagging the peeps too : Ahana Baby, @bibliophile-dendrophile, @daughterofruins,

[vellhighbandi]

Imagine being a child forever

Imagine being a child forever A life of dreams, possibilities and wonders abound A world of awe is what we see look back Imagine being a child forever Not knowing what's to come, never to grow or learn Ignorance is bliss we say, it's cage for them Imagine being a child forever Carefree, frolicking through the summer grass A home to return to, a schedule mapped out for you Imagine being a child forever Never being heard, listening and trying, trying everyday Not understanding why they hurt, the words you say Imagine being a child forever Never having had the opportunity to choose adulthood Childhood wasn't beautiful, nostalgia is the guilty temptress.  -Sharma

[vellhighbandi]

"We could have had you aborted, you know. But we didn't." They say with a laugh as if it's a joke. And maybe it is.

Why didn't you? She asks in her mind, can't voice those words aloud.

"We aren't heathens."

Why would she, when the answer they would slap back with was already clear in her mind.

They say, "Your mother almost died giving birth to you." They tell a 9 year old, the pain she caused her mother. They tell her, "We already had your brother. We didn't need you."

"But you wanted me." She says words happy, mind sad. They laugh.

"Study hard if you don't want to be married off." They tell a girl that watched her sister go away, dolled up in red and tears bottled to not ruin the white make up caked on her brown face. Lips quivering but not parting in a cry, sealed with the red lipstick.

She looks down at her brown skin. And she cries. Not loud like cousins do. Nor angry like her brother cries. She cries silent tears that get wiped on her sleeve never to be seen again.

And then one day they stop. Their cutting words held back. The child looks at the prize "State Topper" it says. And the child knows.

Knows what must she do. Works hard. Day in, day out.

Stops going out when she asked for the sixth time that week where she's going while her brother wanders in late after dusk.

Stop talking to friends when the phone is snatched from her hands for the fourth time that day.

Stops talking when she's cut off for the third time that hour.

They ask, why doesn't she talk to them? Why is she so lazy? Why doesnt she have friends?

She stays quiet.

They start talking again. About how they wanted a child who got 100% marks in boards.

She listens. Quiet and contemplative. She does her best. Works hard. And then she breaks.

The friends she did make along the way don't want someone who can't even call them, forget hanging out with them. The teachers want more. Her brother wanted a brother. Her parents never even wanted her.

98.8% isn't good enough for them. And neither is she.

What's the point she asks. And keeps doing what she's always done. It's all she knows afterall.

Tired and exhausted she pulls out the diary she hid as a kid, flips back to pages of poetries she wrote. Bled out her pain and hid it away. Not to be breathed a word of.

They could have aborted her, but they didn't. They wanted her to be grateful to them for the miserable life she lived, and maybe she should. For she met people, experienced what love meant, found that family isn't always defined by blood relations, not every man is out to prey on her, smartness and worthiness isn't found in marks.

They says things again. Now because she didn't get into an IIT, they don't care about NITs it's the second best. And now she doesn't even try. She found her people. She was born as a daughter in a family that married off daughters at 18. She's almost 20, unmarried and still studying; because her cousin chose death. She knows she'll have to move out for college never to step a foot back in again, because there's a cousin sitting at home, who's done Masters and still isn't allowed to apply to jobs. She knows they'll try and stop her and she doesn't care.

They could have killed her before birth. But they didn't. They had their chance, and now she'll claim hers.

[vellhighbandi]

Compromised

Chapter Three

POV: Anamika

She rose, stumbling and tripping, to find her phone. Hands shaking, she tried tapping the phone on. 

“Goddamnit! For once work like you're supposed to.”

What she had meant as an internal scream came out as a loud wail of incoherent guttural noise. 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” 

She rushed off into her room looking for the charger, no not hers. 

If he wasn't hers how could anything else be? 

It wasn't plugged where it was supposed to be. She looked in the drawers, it wasn't there either. She needed that fucking charger.

Nothing was going right- It was all karma and she knew it. It was all coming back to bite her ass. 

As it should.

“Here.” 

She was offered a power bank. At the moment Anamika couldn't even remember if her name was Neha or Sneha. All she saw was the cord and plugged it in. 

A choking, “Thank you,” coughed out from her parched throat. 

She didn't even look her in the eyes for long, she shouldn't. 

She had no right. 

She had left him caught up in a crime scene, unaware and in shock. If something happened to him it'll be her fault. Hers hers hers…

He wasn't hers. But the fault, if anything- anything happened to him, would be hers. And she didn't know if she could handle it anymore. Another mark on her soul. 

She could not take that.

The tune of her phone switching on brought her mind back from the chasm it had headed to. Her lock screen glared at her, blaming her for the loss of her best friend who was dreamingly looking at her smile in his arms. 

His name flashed in the banner before being flooded out by the other texts from numbers she didn't even have saved. Missed calls from people she knew, and from friends- no, not friends, she wasn’t worth having friends, they were acquaintances and strangers. 

She searched back for his name in a sea of concerned texts and calls. Why were they even concerned she was a nobody, a lurker, a side character, the comedic relief-

The blood of the man flashed in her mind and she was reminded that she was also a villain… no wonder they keep her close… keep your enemies closer…

Seeing his goofy smiling icon did not give her butterflies this time, instead, her stomach sank. 

Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering calls or acknowledging texts? 

She almost asked those questions but then who was she to ask those questions? What right did she have?

None. 

Questions that had trickled into the words before her mind caught up with what she was doing. How could she continue without acknowledging what happened? She was sitting, staring at the screen, eyes locked on the green little dot right next to his icon. And it disappeared in the next moment as if it was never there. 

Like her trust in him.

POV: June

On the other side, June was staring at his screen, when a little green dot pinged next to her icon. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding onto like he was holding onto her and his sanity. 

And words left him.

Like his breath did when she leaned in. He really hoped she’d kiss him. Trust him.

His lock screen stared back at him, Anamika in his arms looking right back at him, smiling while his eyes were locked on that smile, him in the picture, and the one holding the phone. 

He kept the phone screen down next to him and fell back on the bed, arms flying to his side like they did before she jumped on him. 

She wasn’t going to fall into his arms now.

He brought his arms back covering his face and let out a silent scream, before letting another lose. And a third. And a fourth. A fifth... till those screams turned louder and louder and eventually into sobs.

What was he doing?

When he woke up next, the moon was high in the sky, probably a little after midnight. Picking himself up he went into the bathroom and realised how absolutely horrid he looked.

The mud wiped on his face, his hair slightly singed. Washing off the sweat, he rubbed at the caked mud, scrubbing with his nails, His eyes were red, he splashed some water on his eyes, and realised he should have washed his hands first. Blindly running his hands under the water he reached for the soap and knocked over something that fell on his foot, cursing he washed his hands and threw water at his eyes again, this time they burned. He probably didn’t wash the soap off. Swearing at anything and everything he turned on the shower and let the water wash his eyes. 

While he stood under the water, he remembered how Anamika liked to sit under the shower pretending to be a monk under a waterfall, she looked so beautiful then, pure, ethereal, so vulnerable- 

No, he loved her. He loved her.

He liked her blood in her body. He loved the warmth of that blood from beneath her skin.

Why? Why why why- turning the water off he stripped, leaving the clothes on the wet bathroom floor. 

Why did she leave him there? 

Did she know what he was capable of? Did she know what he had already done? Did she have faith in his ability to not be caught? 

Or did she leave him there to be caught? What was she thinking? What was she planning?

Before today, all he had to ask was what he would do and he knew she would do the exact opposite. But now- now he wasn't sure. He had to know… Picking his phone back up he plugged the charger and opened the chat with her. 

Why did do yo-

No. he couldn't ask that by text. He had disposed of the body. He couldn't let there be any evidence, even circumstantial... They would take her away if anyone knew. 

They would take her away… no he can’t let that happen.

He didn't know what alibi she had planted, no they needed to talk but before that, he needed to know if she knew.  

‘Good night.’ 

And before he knew it he had shot off a second, ‘Take care and I love you.’

And as the tick turned blue he couldn’t help but doubt his love.

That night he spent awake, laying his bed, lights on, muttering while his mind conjured increasingly terrifying and bloodied versions of her, smiling as she was stabbed, feasting in the blood of the man she just murdered, with him. And him proudly watching her bath in the blood she spilt. 

Him.

Standing.

Proud.

Bloodied. 

POV: Anamika

It had been 36 hours since she had left him in that abandoned warehouse. Other than the GIFs saying good morning and good night, there had only been that text saying he loved her and to take care. But did he? They needed to talk however she couldn't ambush him. She couldn't. But she had to have that conversation. 

To explain, to make sure he knew. 

And she would. 

For him. 

A breath and she locked the door to her apartment, no takesies backsies, as he used to say. Sliding into her car, she drove off. 

To his house.

To him. 

To her utter destruction. 

She found his door locked like she was locked out of his heart.

POV: June

He saw her standing on his doorstep. Looking glum as if she had just walked to the gates of hell and found herself locked out of there too. Wasn’t his house hell for her? Wasn’t he the devil in her life? 

He cut himself off right there. He was being absurd. He could not be the devil. His hands hadn't been bloodied again. He wasn't the one driving the blade this time. He wasn’t. Was he?

He needed to reign his thoughts back; they were getting ridiculous every second. First, fearing her, as if she was the monster, but didn't she murder and walk it off; wasn't he a monster in himself, before she even knew of his existence? 

She turned around, and he saw the same bloodied Anamika from his fantasies. No, they were nightmares. 

POV: Anamika

When she turned around, she saw June walking toward her, a smile almost plastered itself before his eyes widened, his face pale and sweat beading down his temple. 

She was a monster. 

He knew it. 

He was scared of her. 

He was scared. 

Of her. 

POV: June

He averted his eyes and didn't see her face almost breaking. Didn't look into her eyes to see her soul shattering. He invited her in but didn't see her pulling up the mask she had long abandoned in front of him. 

POV: Anamika

She was broken. 

But he wasn't going to know. 

He would never know. 

POV: June

She left within an hour, their calls hadn't ended before three hours for years now, and today she left at 47 minutes. He knew because he checked the watch like 30 times while she was there. And what probably killed him more than her leaving was that he was relieved. 

Relieved at her leaving.

She left.

And he didn't even try to stop her. 

POV: Anamika

She left.

And he didn't even try to stop her. 

Had that one night ripped them apart? He kept checking his watch the whole time she was there. He didn't sit next to her on the rug like they did. They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table. He sat opposite her and looked behind her the whole time they sat in silence. Another novelty, they never had this awkward silence between them before. He was talking, telling stories that she knew he made up because she was right there with him when the stories were apparently happening. 

It wasn't the same anymore.

They weren't the same.

And it was her fault

All her fault.

Hers.

POV: June

He met her again, every time he did he saw her bloodied face. He saw her getting wilder in his dreams. Bloodthirsty, cannibalistic. And he was scared. And yet the excitement in his heart rose each time. But he loved her. Didn't he? 

She loved him. She did. 

He had to leave. 

POV: Anamika

She loved him. But he didn't. He was scared, terrified of her. Things weren't okay but she was too much of a coward, too attached, too pathetic to say anything. 

Too scared to be confronted. 

POV: June

He knew things weren't all good. He still had fan- visions of her. Now they had progressed into her coming for him next. And instead of kissing his nose, biting his throat apart, before he cut her open. Let that crimson treasure of hers bathe him... And he couldn't let it go on. 

He couldn't look at her without thinking about how pretty she would look coloured in blood, just like that night, but this time it'd be hers. And he would be the one carving it out of her smooth soft skin. Ripping every hair off, like she wanted. He'd take away the body hair she hated. And kiss those oozing cuts. Letting the blood adorn his lips- 

It took him a few days, to be sure of his decision. To choose to stay or stray. His wildest fantasy and true acceptance, or the normalness that he knew wasn't a part of him. He had to make sure what he chose was something he could live with while knowing damn well he couldn't live without the normalcy she brought. It wasn't that he yearned for normalcy, he longed for her. She brought with her an easy sense of home and belonging, which he couldn't find anywhere else. That was what drew him to her in the first place the easygoing conversations, the jokes that never needed explaining, the outrageous flirting, that comfort...

Now when he saw her, instead of the serenity on her face, he saw a hurt expression. A betrayed look in her eyes that he knew he put there. She deserved better. 

And she will have better once he's gone. 

But the niggling voice in his head was almost insistent that she was the one for him. She wasn’t. She deserved better. But the side of her that he saw that night. That unflinching face, those eyes that knew what they were doing. He knew what kind of monster he was. Knowing she could match him, step for step, blow for blow; it excited him. How he could be as heavy-handed as he wanted, being secure in his knowledge that she wouldn’t just take what he dealt. Knowing she would strike back turned him on. 

Knowing she would acknowledge when he wanted to wrap her up like a princess and bow down to her. And empathize with his need to be wild and return the energy, unafraid- no, she wasn't his. It was wrong wrong wrong wrong of him to hold such expectations of her when she wasn’t even his.

POV: Anamika

Anamika shouldn't have been surprised she knew it was coming, she knew since that day she saw him outside his house. She knew when he didn't meet her eyes for weeks, she knew. And yet, it hit her like a lorry right then. He flinched. He flinched seeing her. She was heinous in his eyes. A murderer. A monster. 

“I can't do this anymore Anamika.”

Six words shattered her. 

She didn't ask. What could he not do? The relationship was forgone conclusion, but their friendship? 

Could she at least have that? 

No, she would not impose on him like that. He needed space. He needed her tainted shadow to be far far far from him. He needed peace, and she wasn’t that for him. 

“Yeah,” her throat felt so sore as if she hadn't spoken for days, she hadn't but who was she even going to talk to? The only one to listen to her thought of her as a monster now. 

She continued, “It’s about time,” she gulped, “about time we went our separate ways.” 

There she said it, no need for him to cut her off completely when she did it for him all on her own. Separate ways, as if their paths had not been intertwined ages ago. As if they hadn't promised to be by each other's side in health and harmony; in hardship and destitution; in despair and destruction. 

He was still looking beyond her. She needed to say something, something, anything, “I really loved you June.” One last time she could say it aloud without being judged, without being condemned. 

“Take care,” she needed more words. Needed him to know, she needed him to. 

“I'm sorry it ended this way.” 

That is what she ended up saying. It wasn't nearly enough.

Not enough. Never enough.

POV: June

He watched her walk away. Knowing somewhere deep down this was probably the last time he could watch her as his. Separate paths they had to travel. Now, it was going to be just him and his demons unleashed.

POV: Anamika

That night truly alone after a long while of camaraderie and support, Anamika sat under the tap. She couldn’t just sit under the shower. Not under the soft kisses from the ocean. Not under what he had romanticised for her forever. No, that comfort of the shower was now gone. All it did was remind her of him. She sat under the tap. Water ran through her tresses. Reminding her of-

No, they were strangers now. 

“I had my reasons..” his name felt wrong on her lips as if she tainted the beautiful name just by thinking of it. And yet, “..June. I had my reasons to do all that I did.”

He wasn't here to hear her. And yet, tears mixed with the water burning her eyes… searing her into pieces. 

He was a stranger now.

But the thing is... Anamika has had lots of secrets… secrets that she held near, secrets she revealed to the world. But now, she and a stranger shared one. 

She knew it’ll never be fine. 

She’ll never be fine without him. 

But there will be this one last thing. One last string tying them together.

One last skeleton in their shared closet.

One Last Secret

A Mutual Murder 

A Shared Sin

A Lost Love

They were pieces of each other’s puzzles. But their assumptions about themselves (and the author's a sadistic angsty teenager in essence) pushed them on separate paths that they'll never find solace in… will they meet again? Find the end to a story that hasn't seen its end yet. What will happen? [authors will go insane(real) as if we weren't already]

Madam co-author : Lilac

Tagging people for validation : @disproportionatelysculpting @damnn-dorothea, @octoberpdf, @morally-gayy, @daughterofruins, @pheonix-thefirebird, @bulbourethralhand, @cheesekulfi

[vellhighbandi]

Choices

The world overrun with beings of deception and resentment Who con and kill, spread pain and suffering, always unrepentant Yet here remain those, with hearts pure, scattered to the wind Yet here remain those, without a cause, for them to align behind Will you take this chance, give your trust, to be tested and tried? Extend a hand to them, whose proffered kinship you once denied A dream you are chasing, for a fantasy can you truly risk your heart? Are you sure, do you not doubt, can you risk it all just for a fresh start? What lengths will you go, will you even be accepted without judgement? To honour this friendship, you are prepared to risk your life, unreluctant Of comradery, of trust, are they willing to end unknown lives to save yours? To protect a bond forged with experience and action, will they turn to force? What will you do, choose death over betrayal? Will you live as a treacheror, or die damnable? Won't their deaths weigh your conscience down? Or will you die only to realise it was in vain? In this world of trickery and deceit, of backstabbers and survivors You are now one of them, a coward, one of the thousand traitors You lived, but with a condemned soul, an existence so miserable Bubbling with rage, writhing in anger, everyday feels inconsiderable -Sharma

[vellhighbandi]

Remember me asking for inspiration yesterday @hell-lit011019 @mera-mann-kehne-laga

Yeah I finished it. But.. i don't know... Ye lo.

[vellhighbandi]

Here... @i-swear-im-sane Don't cuss me out

TW : blood and blades. You get the picture.

[vellhighbandi]

I want to write a poem on Duck Pond.

I wrote a poem on a Duck instead.

Ducky who doesn't give a Fucky

Ducky my favourite flavour of chaos

There once was moot called Lil ol ducky Who slept and stabbed all in glee Ducky is a duck who is not a duck Ducky is a duck that doesn't give a fuck With smiles, Ducky makes jokes so freeing Sometimes I feel Ducky is All-Seeing Ducky eats bread and does get sick Ducky runs around quick and slick

Okay I'm done bye.

[vellhighbandi]

When did I become so cynical though...