Little me

When flowers grow because they were there
Polar bears come from anywhere
Valentines day cards get dedicated to your mommy
And you're obsessed with a birthday party

(Okay everyone is obsessed about birthdays.)

Nevertheless, that's how little me thought. It's innocence that is captivating, you know? It's what keeps the child inside of you alive. When you grow up, you stop believing that the world is a nice place. It becomes harder to digest that someone actually wants to help you without ulterior motives, the tooth fairy stops existing and you get entangled in a web of formalities.

If I had green eyebrows, blue eyes, cherry red lips and brown hair, maybe I'd look quite stunning. What do you think?

I also have one page that says that the house turned into a pansel (pencil).

Do you have anything that makes you realise you were an interesting wild child? If yes, share it down there in the comments! I found four picture books made by me when I was four or five. Guess I always wrote, even if it was complete nonsense xD

Will be back soon, thanks for reading.

Kanksha :)

Live to Die?

I saw this while going to college

The wind rolled away, swirling around her ecstatic face.  She kept fidgeting with the pair of earrings, marveling its beauty. She’d bought them from a lady on the train. They were for her sister though, who’d surely appreciate the non-birthday gift! With music blaring in her ears, she started making her fingers maneuver through the dust on the grills of the window, spinning the earrings along them, just to watch one fall out on the tracks. Shoulders drooping, she set the lone earring at the counter, letting it watch the tracks for its soulmate.

My friend just broke his iPhone. *sheds a tear*

Everything has a story to tell (except a cracked iPhone since it breaks simply when it falls) and I think this is because we get attached to stuff really quickly. We get fascinated by fictional people and by people we watch on TV, who exist only inside tiny cells containing electrically charged ionic gases. We’re attached to this world we know nothing about. We don’t know why we are alive, yet we’re attached to the phenomenon of existence. We’re possessive about the food we eat and the clothes we wear.

But does all of that matter? Does anything in this world actually matter? When you die, you may realise that your entire life was a dream. You may find out that life doesn’t mean anything and every person who dies just makes up another atom to add to the single cell of another life. Or maybe all of this will matter as you reminisce your existence with everyone else who is dead. If that is the case, the dead club must be overflowing with members.

We live to die. And we die, trying to live.

Thanks for reading!
Kanksha :)