People Often Have Callous Ways To Talk To Us- Even The Ones Who We Are Pretty Much Attached To. That

People often have callous ways to talk to us- even the ones who we are pretty much attached to. That is one issue. Another one is that we are expected to take all the callousness, rudeness and harsh treatment as a joke because they don't mean it. And if we allow ourselves to feel hurt, we are not cool enough. Being cool means laughing at things that should be scoffed at. Is it?!?

I need it viciously- for people to draw clear bold lines about jokes and seriousness. You don't get to joke about my insecurities. You don't get to call me mean things. You don't get to make me feel like an unimportant unworthy piece of ruin who deserves anything but kindness. Sorry, I don't approve.

"I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while."

Haruki Murakami

Sky or the canvas?

"Why the sky refuses,

to lose its colour,

get bleached,

and portray what our hearts feel?

Isn't this a betrayal,

on her part,

to refuse us the luxury,

to display our hearts to the world,

and drown itself in our misery?

Why it has to be so unbothered,

uncaring,

and bring new mornings each day,

making us stand out in the happy looking world?"

"How many hearts must she have?

Before she can feel ya cry?

And how many deaths must she die,

to show your blood on the sky?

Sometimes, your hearts want to laugh till they cry,

Sometimes, your hearts want to lay down and die.

One sky is common for countless of hearts,

Ain't she no illusion, no imagination of arts,

that she will look a mysterious mess of paints,

And like a lovely mother, hear each of yours complaints!"

-Vanshika

How much of a poet/writer I am?

Tonight, while I was sleeping after a long day, I dreamt the plot of my next best seller. The one from the genre, I didn't like much or I thought I didn't. The scenes were real and well executed. I guess my brain is more of a poet/writer than I will ever be.

-VS

I do not know if it counts -outside of tumblr- the mental struggle that I face everyday. The constant fight between the force to race and the force to live. I am not able to do these two simultaneously- race and live. Does this make me weaker than the rest? Or everyone has their own personal battlefields where they put up a strong face while crumpling within.