Confessions of a Kashmirican

Today I was looking back through some of the poetic stuff I wrote in the past, and one poem stood out the most to me. I’ll just leave it here to speak for itself: Today I saw a path Shrouded in mist, Stretched out for miles and miles Beyond the dark horizon Nowhere else to go... Nowhere but forward The echo of each footstep Reverberated all around, While the fog closed in To swallow me whole Nothing did I see here... Nothing in this milky shroud ‘The light! Where is the light?’ The heart’s deafening cries Brought me to my knees, In tearful silence No one was there... No one to hear a lost traveler Yet in the distance A light shone through I did not know whose lamp it was But - ‘I must move forward’ One step (My knees shook) Two steps (With shallow breath) Three (I saw the wind) Four (Sweeping away the fog) Five (Like silk curtains) And as I stepped Into the light, I saw on the other side A golden smile All at once I saw everything And yet nothing at all

It’s a quiet Friday full of rain. The sky is blanketed with silver clouds, soggy gold and rose-tinted leaves are scattered all across the ground, and there’s a slight chill in the air. But it’s more of a “peaceful” silence than a gloomy one, so I don’t mind. I can hear the bubbling noises of the fish aquarium’s filtration system to my left, far off in the corner next to the front door. Our fluffy Pomeranian is fast sleep, snuggled up in one of her favorite spots near the fireplace. Everyone else is either resting or working. It’s a very relaxing day. ... And I’ve had a lot to think about over these past few months or so. I’m very content with the job I have now, it’s challenging but satisfying at the same time. I’m done pursuing any romantic relationship for now, since I’ve gained enough wisdom for better or worse. I enjoy music as much as ever, and have lately tried getting out of my comfort zone to listen to songs from other genres - it’s been lovely so far. I still miss both of my g

I think we all need a timeout. These past months, we’ve seen chaos unfold: from the coronavirus outbreak and alarming death toll, to protests all over the country over basic human rights (seriously, it’s the 21st century!), to the police brutality and the wildfires and the upcoming election and the white supremacism and the conspiracy theories and the political frenzy— Stop. Take a deep breath. In, and out... in, and out... in, and out... ... ...... ......... ............ ............... You still with me? Good. Let’s talk for a moment. I know these are crazy times. I know it feels like a lot to handle. And I know how it feels to lose someone dear... we lost our grandfather to a stroke back in May, and I still can’t believe he’s gone. It’s hard to think about. It’s hard. But I also understand that every storm has an end. This might be one of the biggest storms we’ve ever seen together this year, complete with terrifying thunder and bright flashes of lightning... but I know we’re strong

I used to enjoy romance movies. I mean, I still do... but not nearly as much as I did before. It’s become nothing more than fiction to me. A lovestruck hero/heroine chases after their love interest (or vice-versa); misunderstandings form that could be easily cleared with a simple direct conversation, but otherwise it’s all smooth-sailing; and there’s almost always a happy “ending”. But real life doesn’t work that way. Relationships take work. People can fall out of love almost as quickly as they fall in it. Small arguments can either get resolved quickly or escalate into a mountain of trouble. And if you’re entering a relationship expecting all your needs to be met? Well then, brace yourself for a lifetime of disappointment! And it’s not like any of this hasn’t been said before (or at least thought of). We all know: when I becomes we  and me  becomes us , everything changes. All of a sudden, you can’t just think of yourself anymore. This is a tango for two, and it doesn’t matter who

So, my brother, sister and I were diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome when we were around 3 years old. Our mom was worried because not only were we not speaking in coherent words, but we had somehow managed to create our own gibberish language to communicate with each other in. So she brought us all in to the doctor one day, and we got our official diagnosis. Fast-forward to about 4-5 years later. The three of us had by then been a part of this “inclusion program” for students with special needs, which was offered in the public elementary school we attended. We each had an aide who would work with us during regular classes, and in between classes we would have extra time for things like speech lessons and sensory development exercises/games. But one thing I remember in particular was this: this one year, I was told by my aide and teacher that I could pick one of my classmates to sit next to for lunch. Every day, the entire class would be stopped by the teacher before lunch so th

Happy New Year everyone! 😄 Sorry if the post title scared you, by the way. 😅 I was just outside earlier walking my dog, and usually during such walks I would start thinking about random stuff. Today - because of how gentle the winter weather outside felt - I had a poetic short story in my head about an old woman talking to Death as if It were an old friend, while It just keeps looking at her in silence. This is pretty much how the story goes: One fine spring day, an old woman is lying alone in bed. She knows she’s about to die, so she waits calmly. Soon, Death arrives, knocking at her window. She sits up and opens the latch between the old window panes, letting the breeze open them. But the figure remains floating outside, without a word. So, the old woman shrugs and starts talking. “My, you’re a strange one! You knock yet refuse to enter, I wonder why. Is it not my time yet?” Death remains silent, not speaking a word, but appears to look curiously at the woman. “Well then