Happyness Peddler

When we talk about mental strength and emotional intelligence and all those big words, we assume that these are not something we can do or even think about them. Some of us don't have time for all this, some have been avoiding the words mental health as they are our biggest enemies and some have tried living stable lives but don't exactly know how. For the longest time, I thought I'm incapable of being vulnerable and open about who I really am and that has held me back from several opportunities in life. I've missed some pretty great stuff because I didn't know what I want or how to get rid of this stiffness in my personality that nobody likes. Those little bad mental habits keeping me from things I could have done, places I could've visited and jobs I could've landed just because I was busy struggling with my own head, not knowing what to do and how to do. All of this came down to three bad mental habits that I've been carrying along for a single rea...

When people say travelling changes you as a person, I could never understand what they were talking about. I couldn’t disagree more with the statement. I took 7 trips last year and not one of them had any drastic effects on me. More so, I’ve come to realize that travelling is not for me. I’m not cut out for that. It’s not because of different weather or living conditions; I survived all of them without a single complaint but I can’t see any kind of change in me. I remain the same Me as I was when I left for the trip. I've been told that if I visit with this mindset only then, nothing can help, so I decided I'll give it another try and go with an open mind but trust me, I regretted going this time around too. It's not that I hate leaving my comfort zone or I dislike new things, it's just that I'm not gonna remember even a bit of it anyway. We go, we roam around, we have different kinds of food, we come back and live to go about our normal routine lives. Nothing re...

I left something with you, It still has my name on it, If you open it you'll see that it is a little crooked at the ends,  I never knew how to make it even, I liked it a bit messy, You know, It might have lost a little shine,  Maybe rusted a little, I like that colour, Reminds me of the inevitable. Keep it in your drawer, the one next to your bed, It has a lock on it, You don't open it much, It has things you don't use anymore, It'll be fine there. You will not have to take care of it, It'll be safe there,  It has gotten used to the darkness. But remember, You have something that belongs to me, And someday, someday I'll ask for it back.

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square; surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom its invisible, agony reaches a certain unendurable level, and will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from the burning windows, their terror of falling from the great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames; when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall, it’s the terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, c...

I've always been too dumb, too loud and too crazy for him. And by him, I mean my friends. And by friends, I mean the people I hang out with sometimes and regret every moment of it. And by regret, I mean killing myself twice inside my head for saying 'yes' for the meeting. And by saying 'yes', I mean an over excited, pumped up agreement every time they ask me to meet. You ask why? Because I tend to over compensate for everything I do with everyone around me. I've this feeling of not belonging to this place since forever. I feel a massive rock on my chest while I simply exist. I feel that everyone around me is doing me a favour of letting me exist and I owe them everything I have. But I fail everyday. I fail to please everyone around me. I fail to do things they want me to do. I fail to be there every time they need help. I fail to be the one they want me to be. It's like paying a price for something I didn't even ask for. But it's not that I want to...

Monuments are a huge contributing proof that our country had a history and that we’re proud of it. But is it the case with human beings too? Do we protect and savour our past and be proud of it? Most of us do and each one of us expects that from everyone. Is it that important to own it all and have them as victory stories? What if I’m not comfortable in that? What if I’m still dealing with it? What if it is still there as my invisible black cloud? We’ve forgotten the meaning of space or time or life for that matter. Stop bothering me with your ‘funny’ taunts that point to my past. Or ask what’s ‘the fuss’ is all about. Do my words have any consideration now? Do you even listen to me? I’m tired of telling you same words again and again and you don’t seem to understand a bit of it. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to remember any of it. I don’t want to speak about it. I don’t want you to judge me for that. I want my history to be forgotten...