Prisha Khimavat
living life one word at a time.
For me, poetry isn’t simply expression, but rather the method in which to collect myself and piece me back together; my poetry is an amalgamation of who I’ve been, who I am and who I might become.
Category: Posts
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Something that’s been on my mind a lot for the past few months is productivity. When this pandemic began and everyone was trying to come to terms with quarantine and social distancing, one of the things I heard most was, “At least we can do all the things we said we didn’t have time for.…
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Every news channel, social media platform, conversation with friends or family, all seem to be about all the horrible things happening in the world. While we need to keep ourselves updated, it’s important to make sure it doesn’t take a toll on us. So this challenge is my attempt to keep a positive outlook and…
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My family and I were strolling along the narrow, crowded streets as the cool air nipped at our noses. Now, something you should know about my family is that we’re divided in two groups: the “see-everything” and the “experience-a-few things”. My dad and sister fall in the first category.
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Though there is something to be said about the joy of being able to choose, I think there’s something more deeply appreciated about being chosen. We don’t want to just be another person, we want someone to think of us as special enough to CHOOSE us.
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About a year ago from today, I ventured into the unknown, a new chapter of my life. I moved to Singapore for University. I had thought that meeting new people and forming new friendships would be the hardest part, but truly, leaving home, and a whole life behind was the hardest.
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July 31st. What a special day. A day that millions of people around the world celebrate. A day when we all take a magical journey, once again, with the boy who lived under the stairs. So, to that boy, Happy Birthday, Harry.
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Airplane rides are really hard for me. The walls seem to be closing in, I feel like I can’t breathe. Sometimes I manage to fall asleep and it’s all good, but other times the paradoxical irony seems to be mocking me. The disparity between the vast open skies and me. Stuck, trapped, captured, caged.
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Last year, when I turned seventeen, I wrote a post called 17 things I’ve learned since turning 17. It was a collection of stories and statements that rang true since my last birthday. I’d been meaning to do one this year too, and I realized that I hadn’t done so yet, so here we go!
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There was this story I was told as a child that talked about how a storm would take down a tree that couldn’t bend with it, but a plant that would bend and sway would survive. It was all about adaptability and being flexible. My whole life it’s something I’ve held on to, but never…
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Each piece I write serves a purpose, either to myself or perhaps to other people. While think about this concept, I started thinking about why I started writing in the first place. This is that story.