What It’s Like Having Phone Anxiety 

So I’m pretty sure most people won’t relate but at least superwoman does .234687
Having Phone anxiety is weird. Like it literally makes zero sense most of the time. Because phone calls have become an essential part of our lives now and there is literally no way you can avoid it. Here are certain things you have to deal with because of this weirdness.

You’re a shitty friend : okay so most friends will expect you to call. Or if you’re lucky enough they’ll at least expect you to pick up. But for someone with phone anxiety it’s an extremely tedious task. That feeling of utter disappointment when your phone rings is what sucks.


Now it’s not that you hate the person. Oh no. It could be someone you absolutely adore but you still might dread a phone call from them. And then of course people also expect you to call back. ( rolls eyes )  They expect you to call them once in a while and ask them how they’ve been. Or maybe even during a crisis moment when your best friend has broken up with their boyfriend and texts you

“can you call asap ? ”

” umm I’m sorta busy right now can we text ? ”

does not go down well in the “being there when I need you” vow of friendship. And then of course there are people who aren’t good with texting like normal people aka me. You want to talk to them and want to listen to everything that happened with them but they won’t type and you won’t call. It’s a nightmare. You just need those people who’ll text with you and those are hard to find. I mean emails, letters, voice recordings even,  so much better but no you muggles have to talk. Ugh.
Online delivery : you know most of the time you’re glad that online ordering exists and most things can be done in a click. But God forbid you have to call a stranger to ask whether that they deliver to your area or something, because they won’t reply on the page. Oh hell no. You’d rather starve then call a random stranger and ask.if they have food for you. Even you go past all this, the delivery guy will certainly call and you will certainly have to pick up. Oh those minutes of utter terror.
Family : as if talking with your distant relative isn’t awkward enough face to face. What the hell do you talk about  ? You can’t even awkwardly nod yes or no to each of the questions. True story, I once blocked one of my relatives just because I didn’t really wanna talk on the phone with her. Sorry if you’re reading this. Ehehe.


Long distance  : you know that awkward pause you get when you’re talking long distance and the sound travels. Yeah that happens less now with online calling and shit but it is so weird. I mean is the other person gonna say something ? Do you wait ? What if you start talking together ? And since it’s delayed you both either start together or stop together. God,rocket science is easier than deciphering this shit.

And that is how ladies and gentlemen I hate phone calls. There’s no particular reason for it. Yes I’m just that weird. It honestly takes a lot to find someone you’re comfortable talking on the phone with and it rarely happens. If you have this weirdness and have managed to find someone you can talk to normally NEVER LET THEM GO.


Day 22

He remembered how fragile her bare shoulders felt inside his grasp. The only time he could see how vulnerable she was, was when her shoulders trembled within his hands. They were so soft and tender, and it somehow always reminded him of the time he held his baby sister for the first time in the hospital. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, being responsible for a new life. But at the same time, there was this ever encompassing love that he could feel filling up his insides. It was the same when she would lie in his arms, and it was frightening and warm all at the same time.

She woke up to an empty room. There was nothing there, except the bed she had spent the last night in. It probably couldn’t be called a bed to be honest. Just a rug and some pillows. She had to move out, and everything else was gone, sold or packed up at the new apartment. She couldn’t afford living in a house, and she honestly didn’t want to. Her dad was the one paying for everything, and after his death everything sort of fell apart. Inside and out. As she folded the covers, and put them in a box, she thought of the time she caught him writing a letter on this very rug.

“Who’s it for?” she had asked, maybe with a slight jealousy, and little hope that it’d be for her.

“No one”

“So it’s not for me then?”

“You’re right here with me, why would I write to you ?”

“ I don’t know. To be poetic ?” she sulked.

She sat beside him, and started tracing the green veins on her hands. As much as he liked seeing her thin finger go up and down the bulges as if they were telling their own story, he knew what this meant. She was a little upset probably, why he wouldn’t tell her.

“It’s just letters to no one in particular. And then maybe to a lot of people. I address them to different names. The first name that comes into my mind, I think of them and make up how they are and write to them.  With the forms of communication we have now we usually end up talking about nothing rather than something. With letters you put your thoughts onto paper and each word is filled with emotion. You end up writing things which you didn’t even know you wanted to say. I have a hard time talking to people, and I guess I have a lot to say sometimes. I feel better talking to paper. It’s just something I do I guess.”

She didn’t reply, silence with them was never an issue. They left things unsaid, and sometimes they’d say a lot. It was everything and nothing at all altogether.

When she was done putting the last of her stuff in the box, she left the room and bid farewell.

He lit up his first joint in 3 days. 3 days ago, he heard she’d be leaving. It was 7 am, and he hadn’t slept at all. He looked at the box she left her, but couldn’t get himself to get up and open it. His insides were dying to know what it held but he knew whatever it was it’d destroy him. “Well, what’s love if not devastating and absolutely soul crushing?” He thought he would write but he just sat there.  The smoke danced around in front of him and he caught himself humming the song she used to sing.

When she got into the car, she saw her mom already in the front seat, crying. She felt so helpless when she did that. She stared at the rain drops trickling down the glass. She saw some drops stopping mid way, some going forward, some staying still as if waiting for the other to catch up. But life wouldn’t do the same. Her whole world had crashed down but nothing had stopped. Not even for a brief moment. It all felt so harsh. The image of her father’s vacant eyes wouldn’t leave her. He was hanging from the ceiling, wearing her favorite blue tie. She couldn’t help but blame herself for it all. Maybe if she had never been there they’d be living happy and well. The college tuition and her rehab weren’t really helping anyone. Her father had promised her his blue tie when she was three.

“When you grow up and have your very own ice cream company, you’ll wear this to work every day okay?”

And here she was, not even going through college. She had always found how Ray cared for her to be similar to her father. They both believed in her too much. And she always came short. Never rising to their dreams, and living off barely enough. Sometimes she felt like, she couldn’t have dreams of her own, as the weight of theirs was just too much.

It was like she couldn’t get herself to get up and breathe every morning anymore. She couldn’t face herself. Deep inside she knew Ray would never give up on her, but she couldn’t face him anymore. She felt like maybe she’d drive him off the edge too if things went the way they were going. She was a kind of broken he couldn’t fix. Not when he was so burnt himself.

So they decided not to meet again. Not even one last time. She had sent him that box through mail. He finally got up and decided to open it. It was a drab brown box, and there was a note on top.

“All this time you were writing to strangers, but I was writing to you. I started when you first told me that day and I haven’t stopped since. Only now, I can’t get myself to pick up a pen and write to you. There are voices in my head that stop me. Sometimes love just isn’t enough, I guess. It’s been seven years and I’ve kept all of them. I hope you forgive me and yourself. I hope I can too.

Forever in love, Eira.”

She moved away to another city and he stayed by his window wishing for someone to write to.





March 13, 2016

*i found this in my drafts. wrote this about 2 years ago. still relevant though. apologies for the cringe *

Now I’ve been observing this for a while now, and I sort of refuse to believe this is how it actually is. It’s probably something that only happens in my circles, or like my city. Maybe ? Please do correct me if I’m wrong. And I’m not stereotyping, or trying not to. Not everybody is the same and I would never judge anybody, ever for this.

So I came across this post today, and I forgot to screenshot it. But it went something like this “If you want girls to stop friend-zoning guys, maybe you should stop trying to flirt with everything that moves.” Now that’s an overstatement, clearly. But I guess I sort of agree.

Now girls and guys both do this. Let me explain. Usually, unless you have intentions of something more than friendship or you know just having fun or unless you think the other person is attractive, you won’t give her/him the same amount of time you would if you had a crush on him/her. Like A LOT of people, just don’t even want friendship. It’s either just passing time, or flirting or trying to get in their pants. ( i live in a very conservative society. Nobody’s getting into anybody’s pants here. na-uh bruh. it feels weird just saying it XD )

There are people who are super nice to people of the other gender and act real cute and reply really fast, but when it’s just someone looking for just having a good time and wanting to be friends, trying to talk to them about i don’t know, just life, they’re suddenly not interested. And they don’t make half the effort they would if it was someone looking for more than friendship.

It’s all about having “fun” and passing time nowadays. I mean friendship needs just as much nurturing and care as does any other relationship. Whenever we click with someone, and we think they’re fun to talk to why is it that the first thought that comes to our mind is “is s/he single ? am I getting feelings for this person?” and why not “wow, maybe we’ll become the coolest friends ever”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am obviously not saying everyone is like this, but an alarming number of people are. All people care about nowadays is love and relationships and flirting and all that. What happened to the good old days where you could chat up with someone without it being considered flirting ? Without the other person thinking that you’re “interested”

The other gender ( or same gender, really. you get the point) isn’t just something to fuck with. Human beings are great as friends as well, and maybe if we spent a little more time trying to be just be nice with people without any “intentions” we’d have much less friend zoned people and more cool friends.

The One That Got Away

Been a long time since I came back to town.

Everything seems to have changed, but everything feels the same. The same roads, the same skies, and the same person I was back then. It’s been I don’t know how long since I last came here. It’s been I don’t know how long since I last met you.

But everything has changed. We have changed.

Do you remember what it felt like watching the skies burn that night? You tasted like smoke and burnt peppermint, and my hands intertwined within your hair. I used to love that your hair back then was longer than mine. The stereo was on, and you could hear me humming All I Need, each time you let go of my lips. Do you remember how that brought a smile on your face?

But I forgot how to hum like that. I don’t anymore.

It’s been so long since I last heard you play. Do you still play the bass like you used to? Did you make a career out of it like you said you would? Did you fuck all those hot girls who would get you laid just because you’re in a band? I guess I never told you, how I loved that sparkle in your eyes whenever you would talk about what you wanted to do. I guess I never told you, how that was what kept me going through mom’s divorce. Your whole face used to light up and you could go on and on and on talking about what you’d do. I felt so warm being around someone with so much hope, when I had little of my own.  It’s been so long since I was last part of any of your dreams.

But I guess your dreams have changed. Mine didn’t.

You gave me yours, and I guess I never could let go of them. You taught me how to have expectations and you showed me how beautiful it all was. I was living through you. You left me in tears when we went to our first concert. You made me jump when we had our first roller coaster ride. You made me laugh when we first got high. You made me throw up when we first finished that all you can eat pizza challenge. You made me shiver when we got drenched in winter. You made me see myself when it all made sense for a while.

But I guess nothing ever lasts. We didn’t.

I’ve been walking for an hour now. I didn’t forget a thing about this place. I remember every corner, every turn. It’s where we lived. It was home. It still is. It’s just, not ours anymore. I can see you through the faded glass of the coffee shop. I guess I don’t have the guts to face you. Not when I know what your face will do to my insides. Everything I’ve tried so hard to keep inside, will keep rushing up. Then again, who am I kidding? They’ve always been there. I could never let go. Your presence never left me, even long after you did. That warmth always kept me up thinking, feeling, and breathing for you.

But I can’t ever face you.

And so I leave

Just like I came





Fourty Five

Have you ever fallen so deeply in love with a place ? Its like you can clearly remember the exact moment your heart just opened up and let it all in and you can feel it within you every time you close your eyes. 

Have you ever felt something so completely blissful and so completely immersing? 

Can you remember when the first drops of rain hit your face and you smiled and looked at the one beside you and your insides just filled up with this warm feeling and everything felt exactly like it should ?  You looked at your friends and you could see the same sparkle in their eyes as you could feel in your own. It’s as if the sounds still echo in your head, the sounds of your friends sliding against the mud. For one night no one cared about that white shirt, no one was worried about random insects getting into your legs, no one was complaining how utterly freezing it was. In that moment you had felt infinite. 

Do you know what its like to miss every single strand of grass you walked on ? To feel like each brick in the wall holds your memories, and the sounds of your laughter ? To imagine that the balconies remained witness to all those times your tears fell from your cheeks and rolled down to the floor ? To feel like the air held the conversations that flowed each second ? 

Will you ever regret not sleeping with your friends every single night ? Regret not having your clothes smell like your friend anymore ? Regret not being able to wake up every morning and finding your friend beside you, mouth wide open. Will you ever think about the times you didn’t study but talked for hours on end about random shit ? About the times you all sang and saw the rain at 3 in the morning ? Will there be a smile on your face thinking about the times you fraped your friends? Or the times you snuck out past 11 and ran around the stairs ? 

Would you dream of being a family like this again ? Having dinner together, making inappropriate jokes, breaking glasses and plates, complaining about the food ? Will you ever realize how much you can look forward to something as simple as Chinese food on Mondays; how precious pepsi after dinner can be ?  Do you realize you’ll probably get very few chances to stand in line for dinner and sing your favourite songs or annoy the shit out of the people in front of you by cutting lines ? 

Will it ever be the same taking walks after dinner, holding hands ? Lying alone or together on the grass, looking at the stars listening to your friends singing ? Playing caram and taking a bite of Ego from your friend ? Or even sucking on lollipops or chocolate milk like you’re 2 year olds ? Will the guards keep whistling every night at 9 45 ? Will everyone go shouting RS 45 as they leave ? 

Will these memories ever fade ? Will these bonds ever break ? Will these moments ever come back ?

Will you ever tarc again ? 


PSD : Post Series Depression


It all started well. The love at first sight, the giggly feeling all the time, the looking forward to the hour of arrival; we had it all. But like all good things, our love hate relationship must come to an end as well.

Yes, I’m just talking about the attachment you get to a new series. It all starts out harmless, “Everyone’s been talking about this. Let’s see how it feels.” You start the first episode. The first few minutes pass. Hmmm that wasn’t so bad. By the time the first episode ends (if you’re lucky) you’re gonna be hooked and then you decide to watch the rest of the episodes that are already out. RIGHT NOW.

If you dare to choose the unbearable path of watching an ongoing series, you’re in for nights of misery, my friend. It becomes all you can think about day and night. You download the OSTs, change that facebook cover photo, change your whatsapp status to some reference from the series, in short the series takes over your life. The wait for the next episode feels like eternity. When shall our eyes meet? When will my heart skip that beat again? It is the sweet, sweet pain of first love.

Each week this repeats, until a new episode is released, which instead of calming you down, leaves you with a cliff hanger so intense that you regret ever starting this series in the first place. THE WAIT IS TOO MUCH DAMMIT. You try reading up on it, theories, fan fiction, articles, anything you can find. It is like a drug and you need more of it. That innocent love has turned into an unhealthy obsession.

And then, behold, your favorite character dies  J (I’m sorry I just had to use the emoji. I HAD TO). CURSE THAT LOSER WHO TOLD YOU TO WATCH THIS SERIES. FUCK HIM. IF HE LET YOU GET ATTACHED TO SOMEONE WHO DIES, HE CAN NO LONGER BE CALLED A FRIEND. END OF STORY. J You try to calm your soul by giving everyone else spoilers. If you must suffer the heartbreak, then everyone else must too.

And finally the series ends. If you’re EXTREMELY LUCKY and the series loves you back, you get a satisfactory happy ending. You feel a little warm inside. But irrespective of the ending, do not be fooled mate; for days of depression and buckets of ice cream await. You start feeling hollow. There’s nothing to look forward to. No reason for your heart to tickle with happiness or cringe in pain. No reason to live at all. What is meaning of life if there are no more fucking episodes? TELL ME GOD! TELL ME WHY!

This is exactly what PSD is. It is depression of the cruelest kind. Each time the OST comes on shuffle you reminiscence on those beautiful moments you’ve had, while tears roll down in a secret corner of your eye. The world suddenly seems gray, and you’re staring through the window and wonder why must love taste so bitter? WHY MUST WE SUFFER LIKE THIS?

My condolences for you all. Love is such a thing, it must leave you hurting. But years later, when you’re older and wiser, you will smile when the OST comes on shuffle and think back and it will all be worth it. Sigh.

The Lost Pin

You know, in life, you need someone who will tell you about your flaws. Everyone can say something nice but only a few will tell you your mistakes in a way it won’t hurt. I know “Society” or whatever tells us how flawed we are every single moment. But when someone you trust shows you your flaws, about your missing pieces, you tend to fix yourself and better yourself.

Very few of us have those people. I did.

We would look at the kittens together too scared to touch them, too in love to look away. We would swing our feet from the edge of the roof, too scared to jump, too in love with the idea of death to live. It was always real with us. We would hardly meet, hardly talk yet we would know every little inch of the other. She would sit in silence and stare at the sky and I would look down at her feet. The long distance below.  How the air would feel hitting my face at great speeds. How the concrete would hit my head. How she would look at me through her feet, like I was beneath her.

She was everything I had ever wanted to be. She had dreams and aspirations and she could touch the sky if she tried. But something was holding her back to earth. To me. I never did know what it was. She wouldn’t tell me. She said she didn’t know herself. A lost lover? A hurt family? I never asked. In fact I felt guilty to. I should be able to know this without asking.

She was happy and each time she smiled, her diamond earring would just slightly catch the sun’s rays and reflect them to my eyes. That was my sunrise. It was too bright for me to see myself. Her earrings filtered the most beautiful rays to me; just like she filtered everything to me. Only letting me see a glimpse of all the brightness that was her.

I asked for one of those earrings once. She said that I would get it, in due time.

Due time. We would talk about that too. How all of our deaths were due. How each strand of our being would just cease to exist and how brilliant that would be.

One day she was late. I went to sit by our usual spot, but she wasn’t there. It was just minutes till the sun would rise. I needed her. I looked around, only to find one of her earrings lying in her spot, glistening in the morning rays. I took it and through it for the first time I looked at the sun. I looked at her, glowing somewhere, burning out her insides, sparkling in all her beauty. She left me a piece of her, my own little part of the sun.

I stopped looking at the sun rise. I knew I would see one in due time.