spread across scraps of paper
margins of textbooks
Words of encouragement
Words of wisdom
Words dripping in disgust
Words laced in venom
Words for others
Words for myself
Past, present, future.
My younger self was quite the writer.
My younger self was a lot of things.
Talented and witty,
Sparkling with eyes full of wonder
She was very much herself,
despite not knowing who that was
She was resilient, invincible
and proud of it.
And then there’s me
The one that thinks too much
yet knows too little
Things are always in sight
and out of my reach
Broken and tired
Stretched far too thin
I no longer wish to be strong.
I no longer wish to hurt at all.
who I have shared a breath with
my entire life.
I don’t know you.
When did we become two different entities?
When did I “grow up”?
But then again,
“Careless” is the new “carefree”
How could I not worry about everything?
How dare I?
As mindless childhood shows
turn into soothing nostalgia
As delusional optimism
blooms into a realistic view
As I lay a white lily
on the gravestone of my childhood,
a bliss of memories
untainted by adult realities,
I’ll make her a promise.
A promise to find a happier version of myself.
A promise to hold on till then.
A promise to withstand this harsh winter.
A promise to remain till the cherry blossoms flower.
A promise to visit her often, if only through my memories.
If pain is unavoidable
At least I can give it purpose.
Written by Harshita Khanna for MTTN
Featured image by Jasneet Kalra for MTTN