hey, you.

tumhe dil lagi bhool jaani padegi,

i have done a dangerous thing. i have opened my chest, broken my ribs, pushed them aside, i have snatched my heart from her home and handed her to someone whose world ends far earlier than mine even begins; to someone who’s never ever going to read all the ‘yours, marah’s i have written under his name. so, like all lovers, i am sitting in my room, wishing the quiet would go away with all of my thoughts. and take me away too, hopefully. 

i think about love, and the boy and i think about how i am still in school. there’s a whole world to see. so many people to love and i find just the one who ended up hating me. i have so much to do. finish my homework. water the plants. look at my brother and hope he understands that i am telling him that i love him so much i could ruin everything. 

and now this boy’s absence has driven me back to the warmth of sitting in my room bundled up in my duvet, wishing my sister was home, with my sleeping cat’s back moving slightly against my thigh, thinking about writing again. you know, when someone isn’t your best friend anymore, and then, after a long time, you talk to them. that sense of familiarity, that you have been at this exact spot at some time in your life, that’s how i feel right now, as monsoon ends, and the rains are wild. 

he isn’t the only person i have written long, rambly letters dipped in too many things i wanted to say out loud, but they’d punch a hole in my voice and the crack wouldn’t stop growing. to my brother, on his birthday, i never gave it to him. to my sister, ever since the day she left home, left me. 

well, now, i guess i’ll write letters to you, stranger. you’ve given me your time of the day, and i’ll give you my heart. lay it down, piece by piece, for you to see, and perhaps, like me, find a little town here, build a home, and stay. i hope this letter finds you in a place that you’ve always wanted to be. I’m glad we found each other.