Crawl inside this body, find me where I'm most ruined and love me there.

I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as it were a flower to put in his coat.

~Oscar Wilde

"Sitaroon ko aankhon mein mehfuz rakhna,
Badi der tak raat hi raat hogi,
Musaafir hai hum bhi..Musaafir ho tum bhi..
Kisi mod par phir mulaakaat hogi."

Look at you comforting others with the words you wish to hear...

You are the warmth i feel inside blanket

Don't keep your heart hungry for too long otherwise it'll end up eating itself

I take time to recognise the unresolved greedy side of people. When I meet someone, all I see is a person with a genuine smile, a contagious laugh, sparkling eyes, beautiful hair and soft speaking style. It's not a bad thing that I can't see through people for who they really might be. I believe it takes strength to look at a person without judgement for once.

Humans can be museum too,
Filled with history they can no longer touch.

And sometimes, sufferings are just
sufferings, they don't teach you any lessons, they don't contribute to any growth, they don't give you any patterns they just take away the parts of you that can no longer be renewed or regenerated, they just give you the wounds that cannot be healed, and the scars that cannot be concealed, they just prove to be the lost last battle of the candy crush saga that cannot be redeemed, no matter what.

Love is an art of finding oneself. And art is that medium where you hide with all the love...which you could never express or share or understand.If love brings us together, then art that comes out of that love makes us understand why togetherness can never last.Everything fades. Nothing lasts. But we hold on to art, because it translates the silence of our unspoken desires into forms which necessarily have no meaning...but it feels like a feeling. A feeling with no origin...a feeling with no end. A feeling of being temporarily present and eternally absent in our own lives.So we try to live every moment of love as if it was a painting we were trying paint with no idea what we want to make. And even when our love fades away...the painting of our love is still there. We look at the sunflowers we drew on the walls of our broken heart...the sunflowers we couldn't give because we were too... alone.'I guess, love is just brief act of being alive with someone who will eventually become a painting inside the gallery of your grieving heart.'

Making a playlist is a delicate art. It's like writing a love letter, but in a better way. You get to say what you want to say without actually saying it. You get to use someone's else poetry to express how you feel. And then there are rules. It's gotta be entertaining. You gotta tell the story. You can't be too obvious but, you can't be too obscure either. You can't double up on songs by the same artist, unless ofcourse that's your theme. Anyway a good complication, like so many things in life, it's hard to do.

My dear, Melancholy
It's an open letter to you. I wish I could come and see you. I have a lot of things to say, but today I'm writing the least of them, keeping all the other things due. Remember me when you can? I swear, it's all my love, because I never pretend. Waiting for you to write, I turn time into sand.