There’s a part of me that still waits. Not dramatically — no violin in the background — just quietly, like a phone kept on loud for a call that probably won’t come.

You’d think the heart would get tired of shrinking, reshaping, performing emotional origami to fit inside someone else’s ribcage. But mine? It’s persistent. A little stupid. Kind of like me during math exams — full of effort, absolutely no sense.

I keep thinking if I fold myself just right — a little less clingy here, a little funnier there, maybe quiet when it matters — maybe I’d finally fit.

But you —
You’re a drawer already full. And I’m the paper trying to make space cutting myself into small pieces so that even a small part of me becomes a part of you.

Still, I stay. Not out of love.
Out of habit. Out of hope.
Out of this very human tragedy of not knowing when to leave a party where you were never on the guest list.

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They told I almost drowned last summer.

Said I slipped from the rocks behind the estate, chasing at memory I couldn’t name. This weekend, they brought me back — “for closure".

The waves looked familiar, the blood-orange sky too. But the whispers at night weren’t the sea. The laughter in the guest house had no source. And my heart swelling for an emotion I cannot name whenever I am here in this island.

Yesterday, I found the photograph: me, soaked in seaweed, standing beside a girl with my face.

My cousin Julia.

She was the one who drowned.

Then why does everyone call me Julia?

Why does my voice crack when I say my own name?

Why did my Aunt flinch when I laughed?

Tonight, I finally asked my mother. She stared through me.

// Caption

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There is this sentence which our very favourite chemistry professor told us in one of the lectures which however hard I try cannot wave it off.
"The nature of human beings,” he said, “is to be jealous. It’s partly because of the atoms we’re made of.”

Jealousy. He called it elemental, inevitable. A property woven into us, rooted as deeply as the atomic bonds that hold us together. And the more I thought about it, the more it made an uncomfortable kind of sense. Every jealous thought, every envious pang that claws at our chest, isn’t just metaphorical chemistry. It’s literal chemistry. Our instincts, our fears, our desires—they’re all shaped by some invisible rules.
Electronegativity. The way some atoms attract electrons more strongly than others. It’s a measure of greed, a hierarchy of longing. Humans, too, are unequal in what they crave and how they take. Some draw others toward them effortlessly, while others are left orbiting, unfulfilled.— % &But what our professor missed out, I feel is that atoms, for all their selfishness, are also astonishingly cooperative. The bonds they form give rise to molecules, and molecules give rise to life. What starts as a grab for electrons becomes the foundation for everything we love.

We want to believe we’re better than the atoms we’re made of. But the truth is, we’re bound by the same forces. Jealousy isn’t a flaw; it’s a feature. A law of nature written into the blueprint of who we are.
And maybe, just maybe, the key isn’t to fight it but to understand it—to see jealousy not as a weakness but as a reminder of what it means to be human. To want. To bond. To never let go.— % &

-

I have fallen in love
with you like emptiness
loves spaces,
Your rainbow smile
flirts with my heartbeat,
And behind the curtains of grief,
we find solace in
each other's embrace.

 

-

Blackout poetry— % &


































































— % &

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The keeper of her flame

-

Rest zone

-

They always come for nectar,
Even beside graveyards,
Maybe we just need more butterflies,
in this big little world.

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//The Videotape

-

We sit together outside your lawn,
covered in lush green.
You stare at the stars as if it narrates million love stories to you.
Somedays I wonder if I can ever be the stars reflected in your eyes.
But everytime you look at my eyes,
I see the sun painted in your iris,
And know why you don't stare at me directly,
because I remind you of the loneliness
which we were meant to share together.

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