‘I want to die.’ – everyone.


You say that you want to die already. WHY? Because you’re hurt. Tired. Broken. Sad. In love. A loser. Lonely. And, SHATTERED. You can’t stand it anymore, eh?

You say, “I want to die” almost everyday. But have you ever given it a thought? EVER? Have you ever sat down once and considered the words I. WANT. TO. DIE? They aren’t something nonchalant to say but pretty dire. I hope you realize that.

But have you ever pondered how it would feel to let a sharp knife run across your delicate skin and the blood trickling down? Damn, that deep crimson color. Or how about tying a rope around your neck and letting yourself hang until you suffocate to death; and your lungs exhaust and stop their constant arduous work? Woah, the pain and anguish. Forget it! The best would be lying under a train or jumping off a cliff. Fast and simple. No struggling. You do it and the nest second your ribs and limbs crush down to pieces. How tempting these all seem. No?

If you think you would be free of all the tension, stress, depression, chaos you had to face in your life then and that it would be a new, happy, peaceful start now then you’re WRONG. What comes next to suicide is not Heaven but Hell. And hell is not torture. It is an empty heart. Ain’t the same as what you’re going through right now? An empty, cold, broken heart. Oh, the irony.

You want to die because you’re lonely. Alone. There is no one there for you. But won’t you be alone in that cold, dark grave? That would be the abyss of loneliness, my love. So don’t ever slam a door; you might want to go back in.

I feel very hypocritical while writing this as I, myself am tired of waking up everyday.  I am desperately waiting for the day when my body goes, numb, cold, DEAD. But when a man despairs, he does not write; he commits suicide. There must be a hell lot of people in this world like me who want to die but haven’t got the guts.. and have a tiny bit of hope still in there. A tendency of self-destruction seem to be inherent in the overdeveloped human brain.

But often the test of courage is not to die but to live. You’ll be dead one day. Everything will terminate one day. But let the time come. And time walks by your side, ma’am, unwilling to pass.

~ Man is like the foam of the sea, that floats upon the surface of the water. When the wind blows, it vanishes, as if it never had been there. Thus, are our lives blown away by death.

In the long run we are all dead. I understand that the greatest loss is not death but dying inside while you’re living.  But sweetie, don’t worry. You’ll make one ravishing corpse. That, I promise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope you like it. I know this write-up sucked but I just had to write on it. And thank you for all the birthday wishes, Tweeps. I love you all. It would be the best birthday present if you all give my write-up a read.  Well, the second best. The best was that Mata signed for United :’D Haha, thank you for reading. Feedback would be appreciated. Stay awesome, my lovely readers ❤ 



The Story Of A Writer.



That spot. That one spot that hurts so bad. So bad that you feel like giving up everything. There isn’t a vivid picture that comes to you about this dreadful feeling.

Sometimes, your heart seems to scatter into a million pieces and the pieces fall, god knows where. Doesn’t your chest seem so hollow yet your mind overflowed with deep, dark and bleak thoughts? Ever wondered the incentive for it? Hurt, it is.

Once in time someone killed you. Your insides are dead. You are just a cold, crass body functioning just to spend it’s remaining life span. You need a pacifier for this feeling and you find it. That is when a new spark lights in you. A new life starts inside you. You find yourself alive once again, for a while.

Alive only when you’ve a pen in your hand and a paper to let it all out on. All that you had locked up inside you for what feels like decades. All that has killed you the whole time. You’ve thoughts in your mind and you translate them into words just to feel a little light. You just let it all out because you know it’s time. That’s when a writer is born inside you!

~Are you writer who holds his head high above the crowd, while his brain is deep in the abyss of the past, that is filled with the tatters and useless cast-offs of the ages? If so, you are a stagnant pool of water.

Or are you a keen thinker who scrutinizes his inner self, discarding that which is useless, outworn and evil, but preserving that which is useful and good? If so, you are as gift to the hungry, and as cool, clear water to the thirsty.

Too fragile for this savage world.

tumblr_mys9604b9j1smq6x2o1_500 (1)

You think you know eh? Have you ever looked into her eyes? Do that, and then, think again!

Maybe you don’t get to see the real her. Maybe, her strength is just a cover up of her weaknesses and fears. Maybe she’s broken inside. Maybe she’s way too scared to accept her real self.

But sometimes, she just can’t take it anymore. She can’t pretend it is okay. That’s when her courage and efforts just die down. And that is when she gives up everything & does not care anymore. That moment. That one moment, all she cares about is herself. No one else.

It has been too much to hold in. Such a great burden to carry on her frail shoulders. She needs to burst out crying at this moment. She doesn’t care if anyone is watching or wiping the precious moisture off her face. Every single drop dripping down her face, makes her feel pathetic but light.

At this moment, it is YOU, only you; and that’s all that matters!