Writer’s Quote: Silver Lining

Writer’s Quote: Silver Lining

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Silver Lining– a prospect of hope or comfort in a gloomy situation, according to the free dictionary. The above quote is from the oscar nominated movie, The silver lining playbook and I chose it for this week’s writer’s quote because today is Monday and we all need all the positivity we can get.

“You have to do everything you can, you have to work your hardest”– this is the baseline towards success, giving it your best shot and leaving no stone unturned. Personally, I find a certain level of comfort in knowing I did the best I could. It helps me sleep better at night and I look towards the next obstacle knowing the previous door closed for reasons other than my efforts.

“And if you stay positive“- now that’s one of the hardest things. Staying positive after multiple defeats, multiple rejections is not easy. But that is what makes it worth it In the end. If there are no storms and clouds In the sky, there sure wouldn’t be a silver lining.

First things first, we’ve got to give it our best shot. If we stumble, we pick ourselves up; if we fall, we rise and wipe the dust off. Stay positive and keep on walking, trudging, and then, we’ll have our shot at a silver lining.

This post is in response up Writer’s quote wednesday hosted by Silver threading.

Dreams and Maybes’…

Dreams and Maybes’…

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You are the best thing that ‘s ever been mine

Maybe someday I’ll get to send this to someone and mean every word of it. Someone who’ll appreciate and reciprocate a similar feeling. But if it doesn’t happen, then that’s okay. Life wasn’t meant to be a fairy tale in the first place. We gain some, we lose some. Sometimes, dreams do become a reality, other times, they remain what they are- an illusion, fantasy.

Maybe someday, he’ll come, sweep me off my feet, maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll be everything I have ever dreamt of, maybe he won’t be. And maybe, just maybe, there wouldn’t be a he. Maybe it’s just going to be me. Living and thriving on my own, dusting my cold cellars and being my Prince Charming, at the same time, my Cinderella. And at the bottom of it, maybe there won’t even be a me anymore- that’s also a possibility.

In any case, I aim to spend the rest of this unknown possibility being the best version of me, dreaming my dreams and hoping for victory because in the end, a life well lived is equivalent to all the dreams achieved and to those dreams that lay beyond in the oblivion, like, having a Prince Charming, having the best thing that’s ever been mine, to them I say-

I’m glad I lived a life positive enough to have such dreams and if someday, the sun rises and there isn’t a “me”, I hope that someone, somewhere will read these words and go- “darn, she lived the best of her life” and if not, then I can dream that too. That’s the best thing about dreams, anything is a possibility in that realm.

This is me saying, go on dreaming, go on living and know that you are perfect enough to handle being both your Prince Charming and your Cinderella. It is an amazing feeling to say to someone “you are the best thing that’s ever been mine” but what’s more amazing if being able to say it with conviction to the person we see when we look in the mirror.

IMAGE CREDIT: saying images.com

Seeing through someone else’s eyes!

Seeing through someone else’s eyes!

#MentalHealthFriday I have never re blogged but there is always a first right?! MHF took a break and would be back next week but this is post by a dear friend of mine I couldn’t skip regarding Eating disorders. As she said, Eating Disorder is a journey and it doesn’t define a person. Please give the original page a view. 🙂

Nuggets of Gold

A week ago I wrote a post on Eating Disorders, more specifically anorexia. I was writing to bring attention to something that is very real and that more people suffer from than you may think. While I don’t suffer from it myself I have walked a close path with it this year. I would like to share a poem  that touched me deeply. A poem written by person that has  personally struggled with eating disorders. I hope you can understand a little more about it as they express their feelings. Thanks for reading and once again please, if you know someone that you suspect struggling with this,  be there for them, get them help!

I have an eating disorder. It is not had or used to. It is present tense. I am Learning. It is learning to love myself. It is learning to let others love me. It is that…

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Flash Fiction: Autumn Illusion

Flash Fiction: Autumn Illusion

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“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Those boots, I could swear I saw them move”
“Naah, it’s just autumn illusion”
“Autumn what?! You know, just forget- it’s probably too much coffee”
                        ****************
“Sara, I think you’re right, I just saw it move too… Oh boy, the bush baby’s here.”
“Jackson, you’re scaring the crap out of me.”

“The bush baby! Its a hideous creature, sparing hair and only a few feet tall. It was thrown away by its parent due to its ugliness and legend says, it roams about with a pair of boot and whichever unlucky person’s feet fit into it, the bush baby claims them as their parent.”

“When did you start believing in local myth?”
“Since I saw those pair move, and I’m not ready to be a father, talk less of one to a bush baby”

“Aw, it’s probably just as you said, an autumn illusion. See- the boots look perfectly still. Jackson? Jackson!”
“Did he seriously run off?! Well you can strike out a second date now…. Bush baby, ridiculous?!”


Word count: 174 words. This story is in response to flash Fiction For aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you Very much Dawn for this week ‘s inspiring photo prompt. The rule is to write a 150 (+/- 25) word story on the given photo prompt. If you’ll to participate or self indulge in flash fiction reading, click the link above. 🙂

The ones in glass houses-

The ones in glass houses-

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I can scream and I can shout, what difference would it make to-
the ones at the top, who believe the world is their game-
and they live with their crowns, reveling in people’s misery-
and they shut their glass doors, to the voices of masses crippling.

And I try and I’ll try, little difference it makes to those-
whose hearts have been numbed, by vices a long time ago.
And my words, flutter past, their ears like empty promises-
and they think, their silence, over time will diminish my spirit.

One by one the rest may fall to the ground,
but I implant my feet in the soil of the land-
and the silence thrown by the ones wearing crowns,
only help to make my resolve grow stronger.
And the glass doors shut to our pleading cries,
will one day crumble from the strength of our voices-
and with that I go to sleep every night-
and I wonder, I ponder how you sleep at night.

I will scream and I will shout, I believe it will make a difference-
and if not, then I’ll die trying, knowing I did my sole best.
‘Cause I know, it’s not time to worry yet,
and my lungs aren’t saturated-
you can sleep tonight while my tears hole the ground,
they remind me my heart hasn’t numbed from your acts.
And the glass doors that shelter you will come to crack,
awaiting that is what keeps my feet on the ground.
And indeed, that day will arrive.

IMAGE CREDIT: photo gallery.com

Deadweight-

Deadweight-

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Let’s pick up the pen,
And write down our worries;
Our deepest fears,
The past we keep buried;
Words left unsaid,
And hearts we have broken;
words said- regretted,
chances Untaken.

Pick up that pen,
And bleed out emotions;
In Black and red,
Relief all your burdens;
bold out the ones-
That sticks pins far deeper;
italic the hurt-
Imprinted on others.

Now pick up the pen,
And notice the inkwell-
dried out, like the past,
Can’t be resurrected.
It’s a deadweight, a tool
With no use in presence.
Drop off the pen,
In it’s right place- history.

Image credit: Yolinemd.com
P.S don’t forget, If you’ve a got a story needing to be told, I would love to hear it. Let’s join hands to talk about Mental illness and blur out the stigma associated with it. You can send me your Stories at my email: mykahani@yahoo.com For more information, visit this post. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Writers Quote: J.D.Salinger

Writers Quote: J.D.Salinger

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I read Louisa May Alcott’s “Little women, good wives” a few years ago and after I was done, I felt like grappling a telephone and screaming- “couldn’t Laurie have ended up with anyone but Jo’s sister, I mean come on!”. Thank God I don’t have her number and I can save my little dignity towards other things like em, “forgiving her”.

I digress, now to the quote above, how do we know we’ve read an amazing book. It differs for all us; for me- it’s feeling a certain level of calmness after reading the last line, sighing and wishing I had written the book; that’s when I know the writer’s got me.

The first half of Khaled Housseini’s “a thousand splendid suns” got me feeling like- it’d be a great honor to write like him, heck, I actually wanted to meet him. Upon getting to the second part (and please forgive me if you are his fan), I got tired of reading it cause I felt the storyline was dragging on. And then I read “To kill a mockingbird” and J.D. salinger’s words accurately describe my feelings.

What I want to say is this, how about we aim towards exuding a similar feeling from our readers. As much we try to say, we write for ourselves, it would still be a great honor at the end of the day to have someone say “darn, I love your book” or “I wish I could write like you”. We all could do with some motivation.
Here is to writing books which make readers wish they were our friends 😉
P.S which book have you read that evoked the above quote?

In response to writers Quote Wednesday Hosted by Silver Threading.

If only she knew-

If only she knew-

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She wasn’t pretty,
Or dainty or cool;
Hair wasn’t blonde,
Or brunette just a nude;
Walked with the world,
On the sole of her feet;
Lived an outsider,
A rebel- so deemed.
But she was a beauty,
If only she knew;
Her smile- radiant as
The sun at its peak;
Her cerulean eyes
Could defeat the sea’s;
Donning all black she
Was it’s irony.

She wasn’t pretty,
Or dainty or cool;
Had eyes which hinted-
Sorrow buried deep.
Shuddered at slight touch-
Defense mechanism;
Always in trouble-
Had no zeal to live;
If only she knew-
What she meant to me;
She was the universe,
And it’s galaxies.
She hid the truth from,
The rest of the world;
And I pretended,
She wasn’t my world;
On we continued,
She lived for no one;
But she was my reason,
To live just once more-
If only she knew.

image credit: Mitty dawn- pinterest

Mental Health Friday #2

Mental Health Friday #2

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My story? Do you want short or long version? Oh who am I kidding, there is no short version with me. So, first of all, let me introduce myself. My name is Dawn, I come from one very small European country and I’m 24 y/o. Right now I’m sitting at home, smoking a cigarette, sipping coffee and listening to one awesome song on one hour loop. All good, all normal. I’m in my parents living room and you woudn’t find anything unusual here until your eye would catch one particular stack – stack of my pills. In the beginning, I would hide my pills far away, not that others can’t see them, but so that I can pretend they don’t exist. Let me get clear here, I’m not parading my pills infront of guest, but they became something that I have to take in specific time and it’s easier to remember to take them if you can SEE them.

My problems started around the age of 17 when I was in my first relationship. It was intense, nothing I experienced before or after. Yes, I’m married now and I love my husband, but that first love was something different- Unhealthy. He was like sugar to a diabetic, at the same time so usual, normal, sweet but also deadly. In the beginning, everything was awesome. We were spending every second together, but as time passed by, he was getting more distanced and colder. He would blow me off to go play games and that was a trigger which opened pandoras box inside of me.

I had strong, obsessive, unwanted thoughts. Voice in my head was saying, “leave him, break up with him“ and I was fighting it as much as I could. One day, I was screaming outside of a coffee place because the anxiety was so strong, I felt suffocated. I decided to take a break from him, from us, in hope that those thoughts would stop and everything would go back to normal. It didn’t. We got back together, then broke up again. Got back together, broke up. In-between those ,”together“ parts, he was cheating on me. It made me feel sick but it never crossed my mind that he is not worth it, that “we“ as a couple, were not worth it. There was nothing for us to talk about and nothing to do except have sex and talk about games. That “on and off“ period got really long, it lasted for 6 months I think, and it really killed my confidence in love, life and myself.

Anxiety was pretty hard, school bothered me more than usual and I changed overnight. From the innocent little girl, I became a booty-call for someone who doesn’t even know what loving anyone but himself means. I got so dependent, my day would consist of waiting for him to call me and crying because he didn’t. I even had some crazy ideas like “if I don’t smoke for next hour, and don’t touch my phone for a 30 minutes after that he will call“. I was a train-wreck, but since I told no one what I was doing and what I was thinking, there was no one to tell me to get some help, no one to guide me. So, I contacted “doctor google“.

The thoughts were getting pretty rough, violent. After some time, I did tell my mom what was going on, but she never took is as serious as it was and it kind of just stopped on it’s own. I don’t blame her for not reacting because she didn’t know much about anxiety or OCD so she thought that I was simply being a teen. Weird teen, but normal at the same time. Read more

One and the same

One and the same

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To the broken hearts,
And the withered souls;
To the ones unwanted,
The golds, world has thrown;
Here- a poem I send,
To soothe your ache;
May winds so serene-
Dispatch at your place.

To the wilting flowers,
And the flickered flames;
The pure hearts ignored,
And voices unheard;
Maybe words and phrases,
Aren’t much anyway;
But I hope they remind you,
We are one and the same-
Bunch of broken winged birds-
Determined to fly their way.

Image credit: word by Pictures. PS: Mental Health Friday is launching tomorrow with two stories I can’t wait to share with you. See you then 🙂