Tanvi Kusum

Dear Sylvia,
I’m having a particularly difficult day. I feel aimless and weird. It is not made of what constitutes a ‘bad’ day, no failures or embarrassment, or heartbreak and hate, just this sort of emptiness. I woke up early like a good girl, studied and studied and yet it doesn’t feel good.
The boredom of my being is making me puke. It feels as if I have lived too long and it is time I put myself to rest. There is nothing to look forward to, I can’t perceive my future in solid letters. It seems bleak and distant, like a life lived by someone else. I don’t seem to form a connection with my future self and it feels like I need to end because the future will never arrive because I have made my soul stagnant, forever. I need something to stir me, to wake me up from this slumber. My consciousness needs to feel the sweet warmth of spring.

It is not the suicidal, passionate kind of dying I’m talking about, not the one which arises of pain, love and randomized uncontrolled trepidation of heart, it is the boring kind, the lost, the logical and feasible.

Maybe this is what is called the mediocrity of heart.

The author is a regular on the blog.


6 thoughts on “Tanvi Kusum

  1. izza ifzaal says:

    Literally! That describes me as well! Although your friends jest and take it as pmsing but nobody knows what the other one is going through :/
    It was like you gave words to my thought! (Y) Great post


  2. hbhatnagar says:

    Not from Plath but I thought the words were apt here.
    “Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
    I have been half in love with easeful Death,
    Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
    To take into the air my quiet breath;
    Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
    To cease upon the midnight with no pain,”


  3. hbhatnagar says:

    Sorry to post this here, but I have added a few more poems. I wonder if they are Plath-worthy, but I’ll leave that judgment to you. Would have contacted you via email but I don’t have your id, so this was the only method


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