Heart on Sleeve Writings

Peccadillo: (noun) A small sin or fault. She was prancing around in her PJ’s, her earphones intact and her body gliding through the vicinity. She danced gracefully through the room, eyeing my direction once in a while. But she didn’t seem to mind my presence there. She seemed happy, which was a really good alternative over the tear streamed face she possessed the day before. She almost fell as she twirled and hit her toe in the bed post. But instead of wrenching in pain, she collapsed onto her bed in a fit of hysterics, cradling her pinky toe at the same time. It greatly puzzled me but I still watched intently at her humming to the music blasting through the ear pods. For some reason, her presence didn’t threaten me like the others. She made sure to leave water outside every morning and she’d never harmed me, occasionally feeding me and smiling whenever she saw me. How could I not love her? To see her cry breaks my heart and her smile is the highlight of my day, any day of any w...

Even if I was his first; his first kiss, his first girlfriend and so many more censor-worthy stuff, I suppose he never expected me to be his last. And I had. He was all my firsts too. I saw a future with him. And I shared it, ignoring the warnings and the insecurities. Because I had believed we were different. Just like everyone else, I thought we weren't like everyone else. And I had thought he felt the same way too. I know now that that wasn't the case. "It only happens in movies." "Of course you'll find someone else." Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But why don't I feel that he's grieving over what we had and has now been lost? Why do I see him sad only over the fact that the mess happened and that I am sad? I am sad over the fact that something so beautiful was lost. Over the fact that I will never be as comfortable or as at peace with anyone so quickly and effortlessly. That I will hesitate and fear and hate myself for...

Part one of    Wraith. I have no idea when I'll upload the rest of the story. But this was therapy for me. Hope you enjoy. _______ "I was in love with a girl. And she was perfect. Except she was in a relationship with someone. And he was an arse who hurt her. She loved me back. And I kept pushing her to leave him. She never would. Finally I confronted him. And got the surprise of a lifetime." He stopped. He found it amusing how he could summarise those gory three years into these words. "What was it?" Natalie asked, impatient. Others misery still piqued people's interest... Sitting cross-legged in front of her, in the space between the two beds, he took a swig of his beer and downed it with visible pain. "Slow down, buddy. You'll tire yourself out." She seemed to understand that he didn't wanna tell her the rest of the story. She sighed, patted his knee, and stood up. As she bent down to balance herself, he saw inside her t...

Imagine a dark monster clinging onto your back, refusing to let go, ruining and darkening each and every thought of yours. That's a popular imagery of depression. It's like the curtains are closed to your room, 24x7. No matter how happy everyone is around you or how hard people try to cheer you up.. You can't. Because when you see a kid eating an ice cream, you don't feel like smiling anymore. You think of how the kid is going to get sick from the ice cream and how health is so fragile and how life is so pointless. It's always a downward spiral from there when you're depressed. It's a vial of poison you carry around in your head, contaminating everything inside you. But you keep telling yourself, this vial must be hidden. This vial must not go out of these four walls you've created because if it breaks.. It spreads. It's toxic. It ruins other people's lives too. And you don't think you are good enough to take up someone's time ener...