The Best Parameter Of My Love For Myself Is How Much I Believe Myself Over The Words Of Others. Out Of

The best parameter of my love for myself is how much I believe myself over the words of others. Out of immaturity or lack of experience, should I believe other's perception of me? Or should I just trust the intuitions that come from within me? Will it still be self love, if I let myself be changed upon the words of others? Or if I continue doing so, I will become an idealistic persona for the world to see, while feeling all crappy within?

"You had everything except the patience to hear and understand what I feel of a subject! And that drops you to the last of my likeable people list."

She took an exaggerated breath, "You feel wrong. I have heard you. I know so much about you. You have told me all. I know it all."

"Yes that!", I pointed, "You know it all! The FACTS! You never know what I feel of that. You do not understand the perception I hold for those facts. You have a great knowledge about me, but that doesn't mean you understand me!"

My accusing tone had her baffled, but do I accuse wrong? I have felt useless and vulnerable spilling it all to her. We were related by blood, but our compositions were not same. She thought she knew it all. And she made sure to make me feel I knew nothing. And while I was pushing myself towards her, she was splitting us oceans apart.

-an excerpt

I feel affection and love express themselves loud and clear, even behind the most exaggerated silences. No matter how private we are as a person, or how much we hide from others. The ones who are genuinely willing to stay, will know even before we form words. It will ache their heart to see us in pain, and they will tightly hold our hands to pull us out of the hell hole. They would check up on us in our hard times. They will hate to see our sulking face. They will do anything to restore our happy vibe. Those who want to be a part of our lives, will make it known. And what is the point of families and friends, if their affection doesn't speak to you. Loud and clear.

They say loving the sky is so mundane. 'Who in the world falls in love with blue background often covered by white?' But is it really so?

Whenever I look at the sky, with the eyes of my heart, I can see everything but the sky. Sky becomes everything I ever loved, reminding me the best of my past, the loudest of my laughs, the silliest of my fights, and realest of my smiles. It tells me everytime I look at it, that the twenty years of my life, was not just mere existence. Rather, I have really lived.

It tells me no matter how worse I feel inside at this moment, I have had moments in my life, that are stored in her gallery, and I can access them whenever I want.

When I look forward to achieving something in the future, I look up to the sky. Why? Because once again, I will give the sky some moments to store and later on look at it to smile at those to live them again.

Us together, can be sheer blind luck,

Or a peculiar coincidence, fate?

It often makes me believe in all.

Nothing fancy about it,

as you jumped out of nowhere,

But stay now that you've already made a home.

We've been clubbed together,

the farthest pieces of a puzzle,

Yet let's cherish the fact we are shards of the same object.

Not meant to fit obviously,

But to sit together or walk through it all,

Friends are never meant to fit.

The happy, the sad,

the high and the falls,

Unconsciously you've broken all my walls.

I shall collect the debris,

and dispose it far away,

You'd stay- I believe, and I won't need to build them again anyway.

I have a set of pens prepared,

a thick hard cover notebook,

I have the story in my head,

the characters and how they look.

An absolute bestseller,

the book everyone would die to read,

Oh! The scenario makes me giddy,

An absolute ego boost, indeed.

All those hard days of work,

I'd save everyone from sorrow,

Well, right now I am too tired daydreaming,

I guess, I will write tomorrow.