A necklace of hope.

Ghosts do exist.

  1. The first time she was haunted by one was when she fell in love. When he kissed her for the first time, her hands found his hair, but her thoughts could not find a reason to believe that he would stay. She opened her eyes mid-way, and looked at him and all she saw was her fear. She felt sweat on her forehead, as she pulled away. Her eyes darted here and there as she saw flashes of the last time someone had promised to stay and hadn’t. The ghost of empty promises and broken hearts left her tongue dry. He did not seem bothered at all.
  2. He believed in ghosts because they just wouldn’t let him be. Every time he decided to move on, and build himself a life he wanted, the ghost of the expectations of his parents tied his hand behind him, and slowly choked his will to believe. His wrist had scars of him trying to untie himself, but they were mere reminders of his shattered hopes and dreams.
  3. She just could not forget what he had done to her. Every time she went on a new date, tried to move on, he popped up in her thoughts. She loved him. She still did. How can she move on knowing that he was what she wanted. She wanted expensive champagne, and cheap nail polish and warm blankets with him by her side. The ghost of her past haunted her on every new date, and she just could not let it go.
  4. He did not want to hurt someone. He feared power and authority for the sole purpose of staying unable to inflict pain. He did not trust himself enough to believe that if given the chance, he wouldn’t choose himself over others. He knew that choosing oneself is how you progress, but not at the cost of someone he loved? The ghost of his darkness made him fear himself.
  5. She had lost her friend. Every time she sat on her terrace and gazed at the city that was unaware of her loss, she saw shadows of her friend sitting beside her, a cigarette embraced in her fingers, a carefree smile reaching her eyes. One that is lost can never really be lost again. And so she held onto the ghost of her friend, a shimmering and fading image that made her believe that maybe it would all be okay.
  6. There was no way out of this. He sat in the corner of his room, tears running down his red cheeks. Everything seemed to collapse on him, and he just could not pick himself up again. He wanted to believe, he tried to, but there was nothing to believe in. No hope bloomed in the garden inside his chest. The ghost of hopelessness held a knife to his wrist, and as the blood trickled down, he felt free.

We are all haunted in some way or another. We just have to hold on and believe in ourselves. Ghosts do exist, but just in our heads.


“I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.” – Atticus

Previous post : The Writing Project.
Related post : You, the universe and stardust.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

The Writing Project.


I gave a brief introduction about the project (and a giveaway) that I’ve started. I’ll go into complete details in this post.


  • In the project, I will post things you’ve written, so that you are heard.
  • To enter in the project, you’ll have to do what you probably love doing most, or if you want to try something new. Write.
  • The project starts on the 1st of March, and ends on 31st of March.
  • Out of all the submissions I get, I will select sixteen. And only those will be posted on my blog on alternating days starting 1st of March.
  • The submission has to be new content that hasn’t been posted elsewhere. For your convenience, you can post it to your own blog after I have posted it on my blog.
  • When and if I post your submission, I will link to your blog. In return, if you post it on your blog soon after, do link back to mine.
  • The submission deadline is the 20th of March. It would be appreciated if you do it before then, though.
  • Anyone can participate. No matter what your writing field is. Poetry, short stories, prose or essays. The topic can be absolutely anything ranging from the ever famous love to social issues to nature. Anything.
  • Invite your friends too, if they love writing, even if they don’t have a blog.


  • The giveaway is a book, because as writers, we a) love books, and b) should keep reading in order to stay creative.
  • I’ll select the winner on the basis of submissions. The author of my favorite submission will be the winner.
  • As we all have different tastes and favorite genres, I’ll contact whosoever I select for the giveaway to discuss which book you want. It’ll be a mutual decision.
  • I’ll place the order of the book after discussing with the winner, on the 1st of April. It’ll reach you as soon as Amazon allows.

Submit using these mediums :
Instagram:  Utsavraj
Facebook :  Utsavraj
Email        :  utsavraj3@gmail.com

Let’s make March one amazing month! I am really excited about the project. Invite anyone who would like to participate. The more the merrier, after all.

Kudos ∞



Do participate in the giveaway. For more information, click here.
Also, if you really like this post, do re-blog it to your site, it would mean a ton.

I’m a little tipsy,
From the day I tasted your love.
I wasn’t a fan of cheesy one-liners,
or fancy anniversaries.
I didn’t believe in wanting to hold a hand,
even four hours past midnight.
I could not even imagine intimacy,
and lust with my three A.M. shoulder.
I did not think I could be,
A Cinderella and an Anastasia.

You like sunny afternoons,
and me in skirts.
You love my Nutella eyes,
and my tan lines.
You’re -I’ve got no other way to say this- hot.
You open doors,
And still let me pay my bills.
You’ve got my back,
and my behind (*ass).
Do you have any idea what you did to me?

I actually miss you every night.
I hold my pillow against my chest,
As if it was you.
I reach the coffee place way before you do.
I wake up early to watch you sleep.
I do the cheesiest things
that I’d never imagine myself doing.
And I’m pretty sure of one more thing that I do.
When it’s four hours past midnight,
My fingers do latch onto yours, right?

Previous post : Labels of the human market.
Related post : Kiss me slow.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate).

Labels of the human market.

A big thanks to Hanna for awarding me with the Sunshine Blogger Award, and I nominate SarainLaLaLand. Click here for the rules, Sara!  RULES
Also, do participate in the giveaway. For more information, click here.

“Labels are for jars, not for people.” – Anthony Rapp

Humans have judged and labelled other fellow beings since forever.

  1. It was impossible for her to step into her school without eyes following the curve of her ass. How was it that she had to throw out her skirts and wear pants that covered her legs and yet the eyes wouldn’t stop staring. She couldn’t wear the clothes she wanted, or get drunk at parties. She couldn’t dance her heart out, and not worry about the gawking men. She couldn’t talk to that cute guy across the hall, because of what she had to hear for the rest of the day. Slut.
  2. All his life, he’d hidden his secrets inside a dark closet. He had had a crush on this guy he’d been in the same class with for five years now. Unrequited love can make you feel devastated, but it’s worse when the other person doesn’t even know about it. Eventually, he did think it would be okay to tell people the truth. It was a catastrophe. He lost all his friends, and was made fun of for months. He had to change schools and start anew in a better place. It still rings in his ears though. Gay.
  3. You remember that woman who was thirty and wore over-sized tees and baggy pants? It bummed you not to be able to see how big her breasts were, and so you just never spoke to her. You called her names to satisfy your ego, and then laughed about it with your buddies. Remember how she dressed up just once for the re-union party, and your jaw dropped? You could smell the happiness she brought into the room, together with coconut scented shampoos, and luscious lips. And you called her an attention seeker, because she wouldn’t flirt back with you.
  4. Who knew it was a terrible thing to be black in sun-drenched “developed” cities? I am black, and human. My skin is dark, and that’s why I could not join my college football team. My skin is dark, and that’s why I was supposed to be okay with sitting in terrible seats while the others got the best. My skin is dark, and that’s why I was denied the job I was most efficient for. Fancy starlit cities weren’t the heaven they were referred to as, or are blacks not allowed in heaven? Please do help me understand.

The world is becoming a better place, but we still cannot overlook any injustice being done to someone else.
To the people who judge and label, just stop.
To the people who are judged and labelled, stay happy. Let them judge, while we strive for happiness and actually be happy. I promise to you, that this life is wonderful if you choose to make it one. I love you all.

Previous post : Love thyself.
Related post : Earth.

Love thyself.

I believe that there are so many of you out there who deserve to be read, and heard. So, I am starting a project, wherein I will post compositions made by you on my blog throughout March (and to spice it up a bit, giveaway a book to the author of my favorite post). I’ll choose fifteen of the submissions to post in the month of March. The compositions can be poetry, short stories, or anything you’re mind is dealing with. Love, chaos, society, peace, war, pets, or any other topic you can come up with, go ahead and send it to me. It shouldn’t have been posted anywhere else. (This is for me to be able to provide my readers with new content by new authors.)
DM it on : Instagram, Facebook
Mail : utsavraj3@gmail.com
Or just drop it in the comments. Please do participate, it would turn out to be an amazing month if you do. The giveaway book will be one of my favorites, or yours. We’ll talk it out when you send me your compositions.
For now though, enjoy this post!

“Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?” – Janice Lee

Monsters aren’t people,
They aren’t under your bed.
There’s only one.
The one inside your head.
The one that promises every night
That nothing will be okay,
That life isn’t fair;
That you’re miserable.
The one you believe.
But “every monster
has a sob story.”
You have to listen to,
and talk to,
and love
The monster inside of you.
Because no one else ever did.
You make monsters
and you can heal them.
This is not a war,
This is the first step
you have to take
To love yourself.
Just be careful.

Previous post : Then how come it isn’t?
Related post : Snow.