You left me for a better guy

You did the right thing.

I was neither rich nor mature.

Neither attractive nor secure.

I was sad and depressed but you were happy

Because the guy you lusted after found you worthy

You taught me a lesson that I will never forget

• everything in life is transient

Its made me independent

I no longer believe in love

Or friendship

I've learnt to live alone

I cant say I am truly happy

But i am not miserable either

Though I would have been much happier

If i were the one who showed you the door

Then my pride wouldve been intact

You would have gotten what you deserved

I would have had the last laugh

Bitch!

Hya bholi parsi moj garamla bhanthis aja tah biteko ni 2saal bhayecha tyo bike accident ajjei ni samjanacha mero jigree yaar,khali padhai padhai padha Governor banchu ekdin bhanthis tara aja tero samjana jhal jhali yaad airacha .Kaas taile bau ama lai sports bike ko jiddi nagarya bhaye aja esto hudeina po thyoki .Overspeeding ko chapetama tah paris sathi ama bau ko kaile sochinas.Aile tero jhaljhali yaad airacha tah aru jasto topper thinas taile hami dherai average student harulai passs banais merota jigree yara nai this yaar tah.Tyo nepalthok ko bato ma 180 kudaune talai tyo Banasthali ko ukalo le po sath diyenani yaar.Malai ni lagthyo kaile marideina bhani tara jaba tero laas dekhe mutu bhatbhati polyo ni yaar .Aja 2 year death bhako bhayecha talai jhaljhali samjekochu hai .Sadhai bachideinahai guys moj garam bela bela sarai namajja lagcha ani safely bike and gadi chalam

The brown wrapper stung my eye once again today

I remember the last time I was home, my throat burning with tears as I tossed it in the bin

I couldn't stand looking at them so i threw them away

your gifts, all of them- the earrings i adored, the beaded twin bracelet, and the brown wrappers of huge chocolates you bought me

But again, the dustbin sitting in the corner of my ghostly rented room, I also saw it there once...

So please tell me how again is it here staring at me?

And the taste of it lingers in my thoughts and I check again the time of the month, it's 2 days away but there is no you running to me with a set of those brown wrapped chocolates; to make it even worse

Then for the love of god, tell me why it here piercing through me?

Euta chitrakaar lai mero man banauna diyeko Kasto mileko chitra banayera usle pathaayeko Katai kachyakkuchuk, ta katai tukriyeko Baaki thau ma gaathai gaatha le bhariyeko

Sodhcha usle, Sochthye timro man safa bhayeko Kasari samjhau uslai yi sabai gaatha bannuko kaaran pachadi ma royeko

Prashna cha arko, Mann bhari gaatho cha, kasari timi esari bachiraheko? Bhanna sakina, jiuna chhodisakey, saas maatra ho nagayeko

The closer I try to get, the colder you become. The nicer I try to be, the harsher you become. I am avoidant, not blind. I am not deaf; I choose not to listen. Girl are you just another know-it-all? What image of me have you even created in your head? Have you ever asked me how I felt? Is all you care about is yourself? Your name suggests you're an observer, but have you observed me well?

Sometimes all you need to do it say ew and move on I don't know who needs it But You're worth much okay 🫶

हाँसी देऊ तिमी एकक्षण भए पनि
तर यस पटक मात्र तिम्रो लागि
तिमी केवल तिम्रो लागि
न त यो समाजको, न त देखावटी संसारको
त्यो नक्कली हाँसो, अवास्तविक दुनिया
नैतिकताको ढोंग यहाँ, फाइदा नुकसान गनेर
त्यो नक्कली पूजा यहाँ हुन्छ मन्दिर छानेर
मानेर हैन, देखाएर त्यो समाजलाई
अजीब छ यो दुनिया र यहाँ का जीव
म त यो दुनियाको नै हैन, के गर्छौ मेरो आश
तिमी पनि बेवास्ता गर यी सामाजिक रीति
कति बच्छौ तिमी अरूको लागि
एकैक्षण भए पनि बचिदेऊ तिमी आफ्नो लागि

She was hot-- or maybe not

But she was soft

Never had i touched a woman before

I had no idea what to look for

We kissed and got ready

Took off our clothes because we were horny

There she stood naked in front of me

Feminine sexy Aphrodite

The time to do the deed

I was nervous, scared shit

She sensed my fear and asked

First time? I said second. I LIED

Didn't know which hole to poke

With my semi-erect pre-cum leaking pole

She laughed and guided me

I was in her, or she in me?

Then she giggled

I asked what's the matter

She said you are making strange faces

But you're doing good.. go faster and deeper

Then 3 strokes

And I am done

Volacnic eruption?

Emotiinal release?

Whatever it was

It was such a relief

सधैँ हुने नै छु म तिम्रो आँसु पुस्नलाई

तिम्रो हाँसोमा म हाँसो थप्नलाई ।।

चाहे रहौँ या नरहौँ म तिमीसँग अन्तमा

सबैभन्दा बढी माया तिमीलाई नै गर्नेछु म सारा यो प्रान्तमा ।।।

Does he even know every experience i remember always trumatized me so i try to capture everything in photograph so i can remember the sweet times only? Does he know how i feel knowing i can never be close to his family and how i feel when they make me realize in this house ill always be lonely?

Did he ever realized how hurt i was when he talked to him, closer then ever like his own son when i said everything that person did to me. Well he ever understand that making me talk to that person like my brother will always make me feel like that truma will never let me be free.

What will he do if i tell him his other 'son' slut shamed me when i tried to be comfortable in the place he wants me to call home? Or will he ignore it like he always does and tell me he is just your brother dont let your mind roam?

If i tell him im tried of trying to always force a relationship with his family and try to mend smth that i never broke , what will he say? Will he try to understand me or make me feel like its my fault every second till I break down someday?

He will never know what made me happy or how i would die to receive a thoughtful gift from him even if its a handwritten card. Nor will he ever know the hours i waited for him hoping he would show up for me in that cold yard.

Maybe im just overreacting but they will never stop saying how i fucked up every chance i get to talk properly with his family. But how do i make him understand the people who he wants me to call my own are the ones who drove me to insanity?

In his eyes ill always be a troublesome kid who never understood the trouble he went through for my existence. But he will never understand how i prayer for his embrace and how i craved in every moment of my life for his assistance.

Does he know how much i love dark red roses? Nah he will just tell me to shut up if i say my wishes till my every dream closes.

You tell me not to compare myself with others,

But tell me, don't you compare yourself with others?

Didn't the Buddha compare himself with the previous Buddhas?

Didn't Christ and Muhammad compare themselves with the past prophets and Moses?

I'm pretty surethat if you look closely,you will find one flawin a perfect being.

And I'm also pretty surethat if you look closely,you will find one perfect thingin a flawed being.

We're all grey.Those who deny the color within themselveswill never find themselves.

To know the greynessdestroys the hypocrisyand makes you pure.

To hide the greynessdestroys the purityand makes you a hypocrite.

It's a contradiction,yet it's truth.And what is contradictionif not truth?

In this life, I've harbored no ambitions nor goals merely a vivid dream ---a lonely dream where I sit beside an island, gradually consumed by the waves , dying without ever being known, seen or remembered.

I wonder if this is the reason as to why I don’t have any grand ambitions, or a will to truly live and discover things that would fulfill me. I have never found anything worth investing my time in, except observing the joy in people’s smiles. As much of a cunt as I am, I rejoice making people happy.

For me, I gain little happiness by doing things for myself, yet I love second-hand happiness, the smiles and the giggles, they rile me up, giving me a high that no drug ever could. But some days I question to myself if this even is the proper way to be happy.

I despise this part of me.

I have never truly loved someone in my life; I’ve only ever devoted myself to them.

I wish I knew what love felt like, what liking someone felt like, what being kind felt like, what infatuation must feel like.

I just wished to feel emotions, any emotion other than bottled-up rage.

I’ve locked my heart away, my upbringing wasn’t very kind to me, nor was my own brain, so I locked parts of me that I didn’t like, the parts my caretakers disapproved of, the parts that my so-called friends rejected, the part that I thought this world wouldn’t accept, and now I’ll lock this memory away too, because, well, its easy, so much easier than peeling my skin back and solving me, confronting myself, solving this puzzle called my life.

I feel broken, I have lived my life for so long being a secondary character in my own story that I have forgotten how to be ME?

But sometimes I catch a glimpse of  myself in the mirror and smile, cause well, What if not figuring out me is, ME?

What if my entire journey in this life were about forging myself into ME?

That gives me hope, that makes me want to be saved, saved from this dreadful feeling of not knowing me in my entirety, the feeling of being a fake version of me.

I want to be saved.

In this life, I've harbored no ambitions nor goals merely a vivid dream ---a lonely dream where I sit beside an island, gradually consumed by the waves , dying without ever being known, seen or remembered.

I wonder if this is the reason as to why I don’t have any grand ambitions, or a will to truly live and discover things that would fulfill me. I have never found anything worth investing my time in, except observing the joy in people’s smiles. As much of a cunt as I am, I rejoice making people happy.

For me, I gain little happiness by doing things for myself, yet I love second-hand happiness, the smiles and the giggles, they rile me up, giving me a high that no drug ever could. But some days I question to myself if this even is the proper way to be happy.

I despise this part of me.

I have never truly loved someone in my life; I’ve only ever devoted myself to them.

I wish I knew what love felt like, what liking someone felt like, what being kind felt like, what infatuation must feel like.

I just wished to feel emotions, any emotion other than bottled-up rage.

I’ve locked my heart away, my upbringing wasn’t very kind to me, nor was my own brain, so I locked parts of me that I didn’t like, the parts my caretakers disapproved of, the parts that my so-called friends rejected, the part that I thought this world wouldn’t accept, and now I’ll lock this memory away too, because, well, its easy, so much easier than peeling my skin back and solving me, confronting myself, solving this puzzle called my life.

I feel broken, I have lived my life for so long being a secondary character in my own story that I have forgotten how to be ME?

But sometimes I catch a glimpse of  myself in the mirror and smile, cause well, What if not figuring out me is, ME?

What if my entire journey in this life were about forging myself into ME?

That gives me hope, that makes me want to be saved, saved from this dreadful feeling of not knowing me in my entirety, the feeling of being a fake version of me.

I want to be saved.

On a fine night

a jurisdiction emerges,

what blasphemy to the self!

muffled cries seem on the verges

.

Curt responses fill the periphery

the forward trajectory in shambles,

consequences befallen a tad too soon

In the heart's vicinity,

a dark and empty raincloud rambles.

.

Stories or dreams, inconspicuous

mild advances cut short again,

A facade of sly smirk appears

For the world is but a play pretend

.

Hollow hopes for swift redemption,

porous vessels once brimming with aether,

Shallow shores all washed away,

Heaven's garden enveloped in litter.

Why is it so difficult to write about you, love? Why is it different to love you?

I have always dreamt of you exactly as you are. I had never experienced love before you. I had given up hope of finding you, and then you came when I least expected it. You are exactly what I wished for all these years, exactly that.

I never wanted you to be good-looking, though you are. Prettier than the moon, I must say. You are everything I ever wished for.

You are my unbearable grief that took me years to overcome, as it never left my side. You are that anger in me that never found anyone to be angry with rightfully. You are that pain of mine that I never had the courage to show because I was too afraid of being judged. You are that disappointment I always expect before starting something, but it turns out to be an absolutely wonderful experience. You are my honesty that people hesitate to hear.

And you, you are the warm hands I always wanted to hold. You are those butterflies in my stomach that didn't end up being anxiety and eventually physical pain at midnight. You are the writer by whom I always wanted to be written. You are that beautiful poem I always wanted to read. You are the peace I always wanted to hear, as loud as it can get.

You are the home I was always seeking for years. You are that secure feeling of my heart where I am not scared to lose anything. You are the moon I love staring at for hours. I never found myself to be beautiful; I never found myself worthy of being loved. As I am experiencing it now, it feels new but not uneasy. I would never understand why anyone would ever love me, why anyone would write about me, why anyone would find me interesting, but I don't really want to know the answer to those questions. I'm just happy being loved and being able to love.

I love you!

सीमाना बाहिर निस्किन मन छ ,

तर त्यो पिँजडा सरी को सिमाना,

बचाउन को लागि कसैले बनाइदिएको,

को बाट अनि कस्लाई, त्यो पत्तो छैन

सायद तिमी बाट मलाई,

या म बाट तिमीलाई

वा आफू बाट आफैलाई ।

त्यो सीमाना बाहिर को संसार

मन प्रलोभित छ

परिवेश फिक्का लाग्छ यहाँ

मात्र कालो र सेतो

सबै रंगहरु त्यही सिमाना बाहिर

म बाट वञ्चित ।

अंततः जव म छलाङ मर्छु,

त्यो सीमाना नाग्दै,

दौडँदै कोशौ पर पुग्छु,

त्यो राङ्गिन दृश्य पछ्याउँदै,

रहेको सास को ख्याल नगरी,

जति पहिला अघि सर्छु ,

तस्बिर त्यति पर सरेको भान आउँछ,

सायद म मिर्गतृष्ण मा फसेछु ।

त्यो आफ्नो दह छोडी,

देह त्याग्न, अहिले पुगेछु म मारभुमी,

अब फर्कन न त,

फोक्सोमा सास नै पुग्ला,

न त काय मा प्राण ।

The months don't pass quickly like they used to when I was a child.

Hours,days and weeks feel like they are supposed to,Long.

When I was five,the morning sun used to gently caress me,

now when it touches me I get the sunburns.

The stars don't twinkle like they used to when I was six,

Instead they faintly mock me with their distant glow.

Seven I was when the rainfall used to soothe my skin,

Now it wipes the heart that I drew across the windowpane with my bated breath, and I weep slowly,like a child who lost his mother in a crowded street..

It was the summer when I was eight and the breeze used to weave my hair,

now it leaves me huffing like a dweller searching for a shelter in an enraging storm.

I used to sleep till nine,when I was nine,

Now I dig my own grave at the turn of the morning light and wake up dead in my own bed.

Sipping the cup of tea with bread that mom made for me,I used to leave for school at 10.

Now I make coffee from the draining blood from my heart and it tastes bland.

Running miles I used to play with my friends when I was eleven,

Locked in a room now I scream,take pills that are anxiety driven.

I used to sleep for 12 hours straight and mom was my alarm clock,

Dark circles etched beneath eyes I sleep 2 hours with nobody to knock.

And now the months don't pass quickly anymore.....

नजिस्काउ मलाई, म नथाके पनि मेरो मन थाकिसक्यो

नदेउ आश मलाई, शब्द नथाके पनि मेरो कलम थाकिसक्यो

नआइदेउ मेरो सामु, सपना नमरे पनि बिपना मरिसक्यो

I've always felt like an outsider

Among the people laughing in groups

Mimicking the people, replaying the jokes

And I try to laugh, I try so hard

But I'm there watching all of my facade

I look at them , all of them

But none look at me, none can see

I am discreet ,masked by my invisibility

Hello if kasailai thaxa vani please let me know. It'll be a great help.

Thanl you

मलाई उहीँ चाहियो! तर किन चाहियो ?

प्रेमको चाहना, कोहि होस जस्लाइ देखायेर, छाती फुलाउदै मेरो हो त्यो मान्छे भन्न पाउ।

मैले भन्न त तोकेरै भने कि त्यो चाहियो मलाइ भनेर, तर भित्र नियालेर हेरिन कि, के उस्ले मलाइ चाहन्छ त ?

म उस्को प्रिय् पात्र थियिन, तर म बन्न खोजी रहे। मेरो चाह नै तेस्तो थियो , के गरु ।

म अन्धो होइन, बेहोसी भाको रहेछु !

केही समय लाग्यो यो बुझ्न कि उ मेरि होईन भनी बुझ्न ।

सायद उ मेरो नियती होइन,

अहिले पछाडी फर्केर हेर्दा, देख्छु कि त्यो प्रेम रहेनछ मेरो अहंकार रहेछ,। मैले शब्द मात्र प्रेम दियेछु। त्यो माया रहेछ ।।

सम्झाउन खोज्छु भिन्न तर्क दियेर, तर यो मन, दिमाग होइन जहाँ तर्कले जितियोस, मनले तर्क नबुझ्दो रहेछ। मनले भावना बाहेक केही बुझ्दो रहेन्छ ।

Why I cannot seem to forget you these days ?

Why do I recall your eyes, lips, your heart beat, the way you talk, those hand gestures, every time I close my eyes?

Why are these eyes always in a search of you?

Why do I feel relaxed when I see you?

Why does this heart feel water when I see you?

Why am I afraid to talk to you but keep searching you?

Why am I always waiting?

Why do I want to see you at least once a day?

why, why, why just so many why's and still not enough answers to these questions???

No matter what we do, we always end up being unsuccessful—be it in love, relationships, friendships, or career.

We are the ones who always feel inadequate, unloved, and unwanted.

We are the ones who need to prove ourselves.

We are the ones who have PTSD, depression, anxiety, OCD, and BDD.

We are the ones who are scared, worried, meek, tired, stressed, and docile.

We are weak, and you don't notice us because we lurk in the shadows.

We are the ones who are easily manipulated because we let you manipulate us.

We are the ones who don't complain because we want to be liked.

We are the ones who are quite clever but pretend to be dumb and simple, lest you abandon us.

We are the ones who can't share our innermost feelings because we have no one to do so with.

We are no one's friend. We are no one's love. We are simply unlucky. We are lonely.

We are introverts pretending to be extroverts.

We talk just to make you happy.

We have so much empathy and sympathy. We put you ahead of us.

But you don't get it. You take us for granted. We are disposable, expendable. Use and throw—and forget.

Was it meant to be

Were we meant to be

I guess I'll never know

I guess I'll sleep less for some nights

Questioning everything

Where did I go wrong

Or it is what it is

Why is that sometimes

We have to lose yourselves

To find ourselves

Why is it that sometimes

I have to lose you to find us

Do I have to really?

I don't want to

But do I even have a choice

Should I cherish these memories

Thinking how happy we used to be

Or should I lament on these memories Thinking how happy we used to be

You know I loved you

You know I love you

You know I'll be loving you

How unfair it is that

I have to remember you longer than

I have known you

I am me, yet I am not myself. I am who I am. Right now, I am drunk. I know I am going to write gibberish, but I'll write what I feel at the moment—I feel love for you at the moment, I'd like to hold you. My vices, my love, I want you to accept them. This is who I am now; you used to be somebody else too, yet I accept you. I want to talk to you. Love, love, love—nobody's ever felt my love for them, I want you to feel it; I want you to have it. Why don't you believe the love I give only to you? I want you. I want you. I'll let the world know that I fucking love you. I am sick of chasing, yet I still want to feel love from you.

I can't call myself a madman yet because I'm not psychotic enough to be institutionalized; hence, I'm a semi-madman.

I am weak-willed, anxious, paranoid, and depressed, with low self-esteem, self-respect, and self-worth. I suspect I have multiple personality disorder too. I have anger issues, and sometimes my other personalities surprise even myself.

So, who am I? Am I the one I pretend to be, or the ones hidden deep inside my psyche? Is the conscious me the real me, or is the real me buried in my subconscious?

I feel delusional too. Sometimes, I mistakenly think very highly of myself and live in momentary euphoria. Everyone around tells me I'm a good scholarly type, and they envy my amazing experiences. But that high comes crashing down because I'm not all that I think of myself. They don't know the real me—the crazy, crafty, scheming me; the jealous me; the mediocre me.

I am crazy—or getting there—but I can't bring myself to admit it. And I reach out for my cigarettes. I light one for the false sense of security it provides for six minutes.

I want to cry and scream. I want to break things. I want to sleep the day away. Maybe if I were really crazy, I could do all those—and more. But I'm not there yet. This neither crazy nor sane situation is quite frustrating because I can't do the things that I want to do. Just as Emily Dickinson wrote beautifully, 'Much madness is the divinest sense.'

I am responsible yet irresponsible. I am motivated yet lack drive. I am loving yet can't love deeply. I hear, but I don't listen.

I am normal yet weird. I am laughter yet sadness. I am me, yet I am not me.

Just who the hell am I?

देखिन्छन् यहाँ हास्न बिर्सेका मानिसहरू

मात्र भेटिन्छन् यहाँ जिउदो मानिसहरू ,

खुशी खोजदै छन् दुःखी भएर

सुनौलो देख्दै छन् अँध्यारो मा रहेर ,

देखिन्छन् मात्र यहाँ दुखी मानिसहरू

मात्र भेटिन्छन् यहाँ जिउदो मानिसहरू ।

Bubu maam supukka ta budo vayesamma parincha tara nidaijau bhusukka garna sakiyena.Khoi yo jindagi ma k chai lekheko cha kunni tara fitikkai kei garna manaichaina ba.Paisa ni khana launa pugekaicha but yo connection issue po bhahoki koi jiwan sangini chaiya po hoki?Past heryo maya garna mannai laudeina.Sathi bhai le j gareni ma khasei matlab garne manche ni hoena but k bha ho malai afailai thachaina.Mana bhari sapna bhako manche khoi kunni hau kun khadal ma puriye

Na runasakchu ma na hasne rahar cha… sapana nabhulna sakchu na masne rahar cha … timi lai kasari samjau mero zindagi ko halat na tah marna sakchu na bachne rahar cha