Manvitha's Musings

  I told myself to detach. I convinced myself that I already did, in fact. It feels forbidden, these words. It feels sinful. The digging up of the deepest parts of my soul. The part that secretly wishes to reverse time. The part that feels glimpses of the past, better forgotten than left within. And yet I get these flashes. These flickers that tell me it was better. Which is true. Because I hate the sweet memories now contaminated with the poison of betrayal, the bitterness of hurt, the weight of words. But I also feel something else. Hope. Hope for a life bigger than the one I knew. Hope to make the next moment sweet. Because I don't want bitterness anymore. I don't want forgotten moments lingering anymore. I want a future. And most importantly, an enjoyable present.

Hey, pause. Stop right there. Take a deep breath. I've been watching. I've seen your expansive heart. I've seen how compassionate you can be, how much energy you can dedicate to those around you. But one things that breaks me is how you see yourself. I wish you could see yourself in my eyes for one day, acknowledge the depth of your heart, the beauty of your soul. You deserve the same love you show others. You need your own time and energy. It just breaks me to see you cry because you seem to radiate so much light. Yet no one knew about the darkness within. The impossible standards you hold yourself up to. The pressure you weigh all alone. Please don't be so hard on yourself. A soft heart deserves soft care. I'm begging you see yourself in my eyes for once. 

   I smile at a crumpled picture of eight year old me. I smile at the girl who wrote to impress, not express. I smile at the girl who wanted to write big words and make a difference. I smile at the girl who longed to be acknowledged as someone who writes. This smile isn't mocking in the slightest. It's sweet. Because I know very well how much she has grown. 

"What does self-love mean for you?" he asks. "For me?" I repeat, staring into the sky as I ponder the answer.  Images of self love seem to flash through my mind. I can see . makeup brushes. I feel the scent of perfume and smell the vanilla scented candles lit before bed. I can practically imagine the sweaty clothes after a yoga session. I see cute water bottles lined up in my head. But where is the self-love? I know that it is a form of self-love, taking care of yourself and pampering yourself head to toe. But perfume doesn't erase self-doubt. Lipbalm doesn't erase self-hate. Facemasks don't erase guilt. A put together outfit doesn't automatically seal the cracks within. Self-esteem boost, yes. But healing? Not quite.  For me, self-love means knowing all your flaws and mistakes and loving yourself despite it. It means valuing yourself enough to change. It means respecting yourself enough to do things for you. It means loving you for being you. It mea...

  This morning, I woke up with no goal. After a long week of hustling, I simply wanted to pause. Wanted to pause for the chirping birds greeting me sweetly in the morning. Wanted to pause for the cool moonlight smothering me in the night. Wanted to pause for the warm coffee glazing my tongue. And today, it feels like the sunset taught me to take a break before emerging afresh. 

 I was playing golf. One shot. Didn't fall in. "Oh well,"  I think to myself and simply try again. With a swing of my club, I look eagerly just to see that it didn't turn out to be a good shot once again. So I try again. And again. I try in hope of making the next shot better. That made me think. Why can't life be the same way? A game of golf is just a game played with clubs, there are chances to be better, so why not life? But then I think, "We are the golfer. But we can't control the ball." Life is out of our hands sometimes. Choices have consequences way bigger than a golf game. So maybe the real question I should be asking isn't "How do we control the ball?" Not even "How do we hit the club?" Maybe I don't need to navigate my life in one day. We can't change the decisions already taken. We can't reverse the past. So maybe the real question is smaller. Maybe it's "How do we make the next shot better?...