I Also Think.... I Also Write

  “Love, in its purest form, is unconditional”—is something I’ve believed for a very long time. It was a narrative I grew up reading especially in my favourite romance books where the lead protagonist passionately falls in love with the antagonist. But more than that, love is a force—so strong that it transcends time, space, and even the boundaries of relationships we form with others. While the idea of love seems to go against Newton’s third law, the constant acceleration it brings into life makes you believe there’s some equality involved, at least in the beginning. When you love someone deeply, that love doesn’t simply vanish when the relationship ends. It doesn’t magically dissipate into thin air; instead, it lingers, imprints itself on your soul, brands itself into your entire existence and continues to shape your experiences and emotions, even after the final goodbye. For better or worse, it changes you entirely as a person and for the time that you allow yourself to fully immers

  It was the last Friday of December when Sujit a 19-year-old high school dropout who worked in a Chiya Pasal near Baneshwor was walking in the streets of Thamel hoping to buy lighters and cigarettes from a mini-mart near Trisara: The Baking Factory. On his walk towards the mini-mart, he kept hovering over Google Maps on his Nokia C1 that he had bought after saving his money for 3 months. It was his first time witnessing Thamel’s nightlife and its haunting beauty. He there observed people in all kinds of clothes doing all types of drugs, he saw people in their most fancy outfits going to clubs he never stepped foot inside, he saw businessmen talking about making an amount of money he’d never even heard of and he saw people in alleys in an altered state of mind participating in tomfoolery, to sum it all up Sujit who was new to Kathmandu witnessed lives of people that he’d never seen in his home town Ramechhap. As he further made his steps towards the mart he saw two parallel scenes that

Amidst our clash of differing beliefs, I a highly religious person and Tike who’s an agnostic made our way to the Bhagwati Mandir which resides equidistance to our homes, there was a shared understanding between us, even perhaps a shared glimmer of hope that we might find answers from the divinity for our impending exams cause after all Bhagwati is known to grant wishes to those who gracefully pray to her. As we stepped inside the two tired square panned pagoda-style temple the morning sun which had just gotten up hit our faces, and right at that moment I felt as if I had found the yin to my yang cause they were everything I could never be and both of us bowing our heads down and clasping our hands to the Gadurbahini Bhagwati was a testament to the beauty of our differences. Right after we offered our silent prayers, Tike murmured “fuck I want a cigarette” a mantra that had become as routine as our morning rituals. The irony of seeking solace in nicotine amidst the temple's sanctit

Did my ama feel as I did as she stood in front of her mirror gazing at the reflection that looked back at her? Does that image haunt her of all the struggles that women before her went through? Did she ever think about how fat she looked and how any jeans that she bought never fit well around her body, or does she not have to wrestle with her self-doubts and insecurities constantly as I do? I wonder if her reflection ever spoke back to her and reminded her that she was never gonna be enough; no matter how much weight she lost, or how thin she looked, or how little she ate, it would never be enough. Or does all she ever feel is the way her mom made her feel, just like she did to me? The answers to these questions made me realize I spent almost a decade wanting fairer skin, a thinner body, and a picture-perfect waistline. For a very long time, I envied people who had bodies that were very different from mine, and every passing day, was just a reminder of how "ugly" I've bec

  "Fuck, I need a cigarette" is the first thought I have in my mind when I wake up. Is it the same for you? From the moment I open my eyes, I'm looking for reasons to go outside to hit a puff. It's come to a point where I've recognized myself as a functioning addict, and as shameful as I am to admit this, I think it's for the best.  These days I'm suprised by how people continue to go on days, weeks, months, years, heck, even lives without smoking. The thought of simply having a nicotine-free day is very amusing to me, and the worst part is I have no one but myself to blame when it comes to it. I remember when I deceived myself into thinking I didn't have a nicotine problem and that I was not an addict. But now that I reflect on it, I see someone afraid to admit their dependency on a substance that, in reality, was only harming them back. Despite knowing its risks, I still, to this day, cannot gather the willpower to begin to break free from this addi

  As someone diagnosed with BPD around 8 months ago, I still have a lot to learn about my own diagnosis and how it affects the people around me and myself. From anxious attachment style, which steams from abandonment issues to the search for external validation that subsequently goes along with hypersexuality having BPD has made it harder for me to navigate relationships with myself and the people around me. This disorder has caused me to be a furious person who is full of rage all the time. The way BPD has shaped me to see the world in only black and white has made it profoundly difficult for me to understand the grey areas that come along with things in life. For as long as I can remember, I've always been someone who idolized people who I liked and moulded my personality in accordance with their likings. Later in therapy, I learned it was called; Mirroring. Mirroring is when someone with BPD changes their personality, attributes, identity or sense of self, to fit in

  It took us about three weeks to entirely fall for one another. We were practically still kids back then, but for what it was worth, we found each other at a place and time when we needed each other the most. We spent the following year and a half going out on cute little dates, buying flowers, and flooding each other's phones with sweet and corny texts. It was the most fantastic period of my life cause everything I did with him was wonderfully flustering and endearing. He simply felt like serendipity to me. But all I can afford to say now is, It was incredible both falling in and falling out of love with Peter. So this goes out to Peter and me You came along and swept all the woe away with your tender touch For you held me against your chest and made me feel I was enough I felt like a kid, wrapped up around your arms, learning how to walk and talk Your patience felt mellifluous while I simply laid there inert like a lifeless clock We both were lost in the labyrinth of

Having been brought up in a Hindu household, I've always been accustomed to agreeing to be within certain boundaries, whether in my social or personal life. I still remember when I was three years old, my mom took me to Saraswati Mandir in Dabali, which is just 5 minutes away from my home. It was Saraswati puja that day & it also was the very first day when I was taught how to write the Devanagari script, my mom held my hands, and we together wrote: " क,ख, ग " on the walls of the temple. After doing so, we took blessings from the Pandit who was there & went home. For the three-year-old me, it practically meant nothing, and I couldn't comprehend why my mum would take me to a place as sacred as the temple to teach me Devanagari script, and what even was the point of scribbling into the walls? I often stayed in my Mamaghar in my childhood cause both of my parents worked a 9-5 job. On the days when my Aama was free from her household chores, she took

I sigh as I wake up early in the morning, I'm restless, and my body is aching everywhere. As I look into my phone, it's 5:01 am, and the voices of alarm don't seem to stop despite me trying to turn it off. It's such a cold day,  I say to myself as I finally get out of my bed to get ready for college. I do all the mundane tasks, including brushing my teeth, combing my hair, and changing into fresh pair of clothes. It was already 5:30 am, so I rushed out of my home & to my bus stop. While I stood there waiting for the bus, I started thinking about all the places where I had applied my resume last night and counted the probability of me getting in; the chance was zero; of  course, why would any company hire someone who's just passed their high school & has little to no experience.  As soon as the bus arrived, I rushed inside & sat in the cornered seat which was available. I began checking my emails, showing I had no new emails to open. I was dis