Hushed Voices & Painted Lips.

This is not how I imagined 2015 to start.


All I’ve been doing since the year began can be summed in exactly one word: work. Work at college, work at home, and then of course, there’s always abundant written work to be completed. Let’s just say that in the past ten days, my right hand has undergone enough torture to last a million lifetimes.


Other than being unbelievably busy (I honestly haven’t stepped away from my desk for any longer than it takes me to make a big mug of coffee), I’ve also realized that there’s no point to keeping things bottled up inside of you. Things change, people move on, and if you don’t say/do what you want to, there’s no turning back. Once you miss the chance, you miss it for good.

You know how I keep saying that it’s now or never? Yeah. It took me a lot of time and the dissolution of a great acquaintance to realize what it actually meant. Let’s just say that if you’re going to hide something, or if you’re going to lie, silence is as good an option as speech. Lying is done both with words, and with silence.

Paint your lips with a smile, put on your game face, and face it all for another day. Trust me, it works. Tried and tested.


Okay. So, happy new year, right? Right. My new year has been anything but happy till now, so I’m looking forward to the rest of the three hundred-odd days with not much enthusiasm. It’s been ages since I sat down with my notebook and wrote something just for the thrill of letting out words that mattered, wrote for the sheer love of writing. I miss writing. I miss being able to build and weave a story from a single word, or picture, or expression.

I miss feeling capable, feeling worthy of appreciation. If there’s anything in this world that I know how to do without having to backtrack and second-judge my own work, it’s writing. Once the words are out, they’re out. They are no longer only mine. They’re yours, too.

But I guess sometimes, you can’t get the words out fast enough or loud enough or clear enough for the world to listen. Or maybe people don’t have it in their hearts anymore to actually listen to them.

Very truthfully, there’s no certain way to know who is to blame.


I’ll be back. Miss me while I’m gone.


Snigdha ❤


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