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: Quantity over Quality
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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.
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Six kids under the age of nine, a terrible script with a good message, an undercover princess, a dancing old man, a Disney song on repeat all day long and hours of relentless practicing. What could possibly go wrong? Well, no matter what, the show must go on.
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For today’s post, I wanted to try something a little more light hearted and hopefully still entertaining: Two Truths and a Lie (as well as the stories behind them.)
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My childhood is filled with many stories that I created in my head, and many instances where I convinced myself certain things were real. I spent many nights helping a blue fairy in the dark. When her wings got stuck and she had nowhere to go, I promise you, I was the one who saved…
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I once read something somewhere about the oddity of written language. Letters are random lines that we assign sounds to, and those sound combined with other sounds form words which we also assign meaning to, and then all those words in a certain order mean different things. So when we look at a page of…
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What is it about fixing something that is so appealing? Whether that be aligning a picture on a wall so it’s no longer tilted or finally getting your life together. Whether it’s fixing the chain on a broken bag or fixing a broken heart. There is something uniquely special about fixing things.