Versions of Brave

There is a difference between 

"You handled it so well"

And

"You were strong and you survived it".

The first praises strength 

that looked a lot like poise..

A bow to the armor you wore all along. 

The second honors the fear 

that looked a lot like strength.

A tribute to the terror that kept you alive 

all through the storm

Two different eulogies for the same fight.  

One for who they saw.  

One for who you had to be.

The Power of Done

Soul usually knows when to heal itself 

The challenge is the heart and head. 

The heart keeps maps to places  

that burned the house down.  

Calls the ruin "home"  

and begs to move into it.

The head builds courtrooms  

out of maybes and what ifs.  

Puts the past on trial  

but never lets it rest.  

Heart negotiates and thinks

The noise of the trials by head 

Is the process of healing 

Meanwhile the soul 

quiet in the corner

already packed its bags,  

left the door cracked,  

and whispered

"come on, we are done here"

The soul doesnt need 

a verdict to move on.

it only needs an exit.

Luxury Impact

​They press a kiss against the brick

A gentle breath before the blow.

Its the only love that comes our way

The kind thats aimed to lay us low.

​They tied it with a satin bow,

To keep the impact "high-end" though.

Noise of Doing Nothing

Everyone needs more than

anyone can give right now.

We ask oceans of half-filled cups.

In a world where 

nothing feels steady enough to hold,

The threat is not stillness, 

but the noise of doing without being.

Haunted by doors we didnt open, 

lives we didnt choose,

afraid something better 

is always slipping past us.

Hearts unanchored, 

learning to brace in empty spaces.

We reach with salt stained hands 

toward each other,

and call it enough when someone stays.

Professional Stayer

​I am so replaceable

It is actually a crime.

I notice a dust mote and 

I overthink it for a time.

I wait for old friends 

while they are out having fun

Staring at the void

like a half baked bun.

I have lost my selfworth 

in a pile of worn socks,

While my real issue is 

A spine that lacks.

Calm after a restless day

A beautiful ambiguity: 

Is the sky painting the tree pink, 

or is the tree staining the night? 

Either way, the world is whispering 

'be still' after a day of noise

The Art of Enough

Mediocrity has got a chill vibe

Beer in hand, I am feeling fine.

No laurels, no stress

Just some fizz and a little buzz

A frosted glass and a steady breath

I am letting the hustle pass

You are all climbing peaks

I am sitting still

Contented in my skin

If this is what being mediocre means

Then pour me another gin

Grow some self Respect

Note to Self;

Stop begging for scraps at tables

Where I am not even a guest.

I have spent my pride like pocket change 

On people who don't even know my name.

It is pathetic, this frantic dance I do 

just to be noticed by the indifferent.

Starve that desperate need for a hand to hold.  

it juat makes me weak and hollow.

Look in the mirror at the ghost I have become

while chasing shadows.

Sit in the dirt of my own making 

until I learn to stand up alone.

Existential Loophole

Between a yes and a no

There are a zillion possibilities

But the questions of my life...

Is chaos the choice I make, or merely my destiny?

Is confusion my goal or my natural talent?

Did clarity block me, or did I block it first?

Did I spin the wheel or do I just vibe irresponsibly?

Is life a hesitation, scripted or improvised treason?

And is there a sub-clause in my life's contract 

that pays me extra for being 

this philosophically exhausted?

In Case You Are There..

I look back more often

Maybe you are there

Maybe I missed a turn

Maybe you were waiting for me

I can’t help it

I still keep looking back

Hoping to see you looking for me

Hoping you are still around.

-- Me, looking longingly at the 

rava laddu on the dining table.

Drifting : Slipping away from self

​The tide of thought pulls me away

A phantom in my own history.

I disappear into myself so easily

That it feels unreal to still be held

Inside the warmth of anyone’s memory.

​It might melt me if someone said they missed me

A sudden sun against the winter ice.

I genuinely forget that I am a thought

In anyone’s mind, or that someone like me

Is even worthy of a place where love resides.

Doubt - Toll or Troll

2026

"Being more normal"

well, that was the goal,

But the chaos is winning

and taking its toll.

​Not assuming that

everyone hates me,

Is the mountain

I am trying to hike

​If I trade every doubt

for a moment of peace

I would be the next Dalai Lama,

Finally free from the drama.

** sucks.. nothing rhymes in 2026 **

​One-Star Review of My Own Life

​I curate a digital facade of joy for people

I would actively avoid in the street.

​Then spiral in silence because 

"Engagement" feels like a bitter defeat.

​I am resigning from the need to  persuade

To find a corner where nobody cares.

​Turns out I am the only one watching

This desperate, one-man parade.

Be unarmoured

​Apathy earns no trophy

Shed the armor of "fine"

and let the light leak out

To love loudly is to be brave

You dont get brownie points

To move with no smile

So stop playing hard

To just get by

Share vs Fill

We check on our friends

Not because We have emptiness to fill

But bacause We have moments to share. 

My Little Monster

I have got a little monster, 

tucked away in my head,

I did not try to kick him out, 

I just hid him under my bed. 

He is the one who giggles 

when a friend slips on a peel.

A tiny bit of chaos 

is his favorite kind of meal.

So please do not test the padlock

Or jiggle my locked cage.

Or he will be out there laughing 

While he takes you out in a rage. 

An Ode to the lasting love

I know we have

Never held hands walking down the streets

Never sang along driving down the east

I know I'm 

Never scared of this distance forever would be

Never doubted an instance whatever may be 

I know You'd

Never deny the hug if we ever meet

Never say good bye before I die in peace

Borrowed Light

The strongest weight you carry is the one

You try to lift alone beneath the sun.

​It is no failure to ask for help

Even the mighty moon

Glows in the borrowed light.

Misjudged

​It is exhausting, this constant negotiation between expectation and reality. 

The weight of carrying a professional image that feels so at odds with my private self. 

When the people I let in the inner circle echo those casual labels.. 

"So boisterous," or "Always has opinion".. it creates a profound sense of isolation. 

A humble expectation that maybe, just maybe, one day, 

preople will truly understand rather than judging the volume of the voice

Ghosting myself forever!

The person I miss the most

Is the person that I used to be

I refuse to recognize this stranger in the mirror

Glazed eyes, probably a familiar face

Chasing dreams that aren't mine,

In arms that hold me, but dont define

Always filling the void in others life

And fading away from their life 

when I am no longer needed

Longing for the heart that I have misplaced