theprettywildeflower

[theprettywildeflower]

my stuffed toys.

My stuffed toys—I tell people I hate them, but it's not hate. It’s closer to dread, or maybe reverence, like standing before something holy that refuses to die. They sit, oblivious to the years that have pulled at me, still soft, still open, as if they’ve never known the slow crawl of time. Those small, empty smiles—untouched, ageless, almost mocking, like they remember a child I no longer am.

I can��t help but reach for them, as though they hold some piece of me I’ve forgotten, a relic of gentler hands and simpler hurts. They carry the faint scent of old dreams and something tender, a sweetness that’s long outgrown its place in my life. And each time, I feel myself fall for them again, helpless, like they could whisper secrets of the person I used to be, before life became so heavy.

Maybe that’s why I say I hate them. Because in their quiet constancy, they’ve kept something pure that I lost—a strange comfort I want to believe in but can’t trust anymore. And so they sit, untouched and foolishly perfect, while I stand here, forever changed, carrying the weight of all they’ve forgotten.

s.d. (my unpublished thoughts // <vol.1>)

[theprettywildeflower]

I love seeing my friends talk to their moms.

I love seeing my friends talk to their moms. There's something about these moments that pulls at me, a tenderness that I can't shake. It's the way their voices change, softening, like the golden glow of sunlight spilling through half-drawn curtains. You can hear the love in it, hidden in the familiar phrases, the way they quietly surrender to yet another reminder to "eat on time." They might roll their eyes, but in that exasperation, there's a softness — a kind of love that’s woven into every word, every sigh.

And when they laugh, it's different. It's not the kind of laugh you'd hear from them any other time — this one is raw, full, almost childlike. It bubbles up from somewhere deep, unguarded, as if for that moment, they're no longer the adult who's supposed to have everything figured out. They’re just… someone’s kid. The way their eyes crinkle, the way they tilt their head back, it’s like watching time rewind, and for a fleeting second, they’re that little child again, clinging to the safety of their mother’s voice.

It makes me ache, this quiet intimacy. It reminds me of the fragility of those moments, how precious and fleeting they are. I think about the ones who no longer have that voice on the other end of the line, how empty the air must feel without it. I wonder how they bear the silence. And then, when I see my friends hold their phones a little tighter, their smile softening, I can't help but blink back the sting in my eyes. Because in that small exchange, there’s everything — love, history, comfort — all tied together in a way that nothing else in the world can replicate.

There’s something in the way they talk to their moms that brings me to the edge of tears, every single time. Because, even in the laughter, I can’t help but see the weight of all the love they carry. And how someday, they might have to carry it alone.

s.d. (my unpublished thoughts // <vol.1>)

[theprettywildeflower]

" Is it wrong to want something that is utterly and wholly mine? Something to consume and foster in my belly of loneliness, something that is mine to stake claim for. To tear apart the very visage of humanity for them. Someone who burns with me. something, someone, something, someone. I never realised when those lines began to blur. "

s.d. (my unpublished thoughts // <vol.2>)

[theprettywildeflower]

College: is it not my salvation?

You know, people always told me that college was the shit. You'll grow up, go around, meet new people, fall in love and get drunk. But what they forgot to mention was the dark side of it all. The softly growing underbelly of loneliness. You never realise when it creeps upon you. The quiet, dirty and dark world of loneliness. The painful realisation, that you never had anyone to truly begin with. You're sitting in a room full of people and look around, but there's no one to call your own. How truly and utterly alone you are. Your childhood friends never seem to make out the time to meet you, and your college never seem to find the time to text you. That's the ultimate truth that, above all, at the core of it, you are consumed by your loneliness, whose crooked hands clasp you in its cold embrace.

s.d. (my unpublished thoughts // <vol.1>)

[theprettywildeflower]

Family

family’s are so frustrating. why can’t we just have dinner where no one’s fighting? why can’t we go to sleep without somone screaming? why can’t we wake up to sleepy little smiles and beautiful mornings? why can’t we talk about anything without arguing? people say that family’s the only thing that you’ll have forever, but they’ve never seen this family.

[theprettywildeflower]

"There is no love in this world that will ever save you or fix you. Stop living in this idealistic world of your's. It's time to wake up."

s.d. (my mother’s cruel words // <vol.1>)

[theprettywildeflower]

school sucks

fuck school man. i'm so fucking sick of school and i can't even bring myself to laugh over how utterly pathetic this education system is. my high school life is ending and i can't even enjoy cause of stupid boards and entrances. all i literally go to school is for attendance and nothing else and try my absolute hardest to do my best and actually match my parents and school's expectations but now i've just reached a point where i literally cannot be bothered about my marks and reputation and have just given up. my elementary school self would be so disappointed in me.

[theprettywildeflower]

i don't think i ever realised how lonely my father is. in my family's 25 years of existence, did none of us ever have the common humanity to ask him about his life and if he was craving company? it must feel so utterly unsettling to live such a life, where the only company you have are your children and your annoying workmates. we’re doing great things, crushing stereotypes and changing the perception of what it means to be called dad, but somewhere among all of these sacrifices we also lost track of each other. just something to think about <3

[theprettywildeflower]

"My mother's love is a prickly rose,

and you must bleed to reach the end"

[theprettywildeflower]

“ew what do you see in brown guys?” well I’m glad you asked

their hair?? fluffy, gorgeous curls adorning their head?? dark brown eyes you get lost in and realize you’re staring at them and blushing?? their cocky smile whenever they absolutely refuse to give you a straight answer and you’re so annoyed but you also want to pull them by their collar and kiss them so hard?? their deep, throaty, comforting yet disconcerting voice that you could listen for hours on end?? their features- how you’re always distracted by that jawline and that adam’s apple?? their sweetness and kindness, how they’re always there for you, ready to listen to you, no matter what?? how they’re always helping people, teaching kids how to bat while playing cricket, carrying old people’s luggage for them and so on?? their intelligence, not just bookish, but they’re actually so goddamn smart?? like they’ll be programming wizards but can and will also beat you at any debate about politics or psychology or law?? how every single one of them is an angel in their own right?? it’s high time brown boys get the hype!!

[theprettywildeflower]

#too hard to resist bhai

the desi feminine urge to call everyone “bhai”

[theprettywildeflower]

#omg omg i love this

concept: two indian high school girls fall in love, desi dark academia style. imagine them carefully braiding each other’s hair in the school restroom while discussing mughal history. sneaking an old ipod to school and listening to sufi and carnatic music together on the weary bus ride back home. doing everything together, they’re as inseparable as two girl best friends can get. going to book stores or libraries on weekends and spending hours reading sitting next to each other, and then having an intense discussion over chai and vada pav at a small stand. coming back from coaching classes in the evenings, holding hands as their jhumkas twinkle under the streetlights. texting each other at 5 in the morning while stuck on homework. holding hands, hugging ten times a day and cheek kisses are normal, and they never realize their feelings for each other until an accidental forehead touch in a doorway, glancing at each other’s lips and breathing heavily. not choosing to date for fear of ruining their academic careers and remaining best friends. finally getting together when by a stroke of good luck, they both make it to their common dream college and have a celebratory kiss when one goes to the others house to break the good news in person. just, two desi girls falling in love; enamored by the world around them, its knowledge and each other.

[theprettywildeflower]

More niche things I love about Indian culture

-how witches and ghosts are believed to leave backwards footprints

-how a little smudge of khol or gentle spitting wards off the evil eye (nazar / नज़र)

-how black is good luck and white is the colour of death (because grief feels like the absence of colour, not the abundance)

-how I’m a Sikh whose family takes care of an abandoned mosque as per Islamic customs and yet I also celebrate Christmas and ALSO have a murti of Saraswati, goddess of science. And to top it all off, I’m atheist. And I’m far from the only Indian like this

-the sound women make just walking by. The bells on their anklets, the tinkling of their bangles

-hearing conch bells and/or namaz breaking through the early morning stillness

-how I can get out of anything by telling people an astrologer forbade it

-how you have to apologise to a book if you step on it or knock it down

-how in Punjabi measuring tape is called “inchy tape” and how a small step stool is called a “stooly”

-the feeling of the press of someone’s finger on your forehead as they place a tilak on you

-standing on the roof and kite fighting with the other grown ass adults in your neighbourhood only to be bested by some ten-year-old

[theprettywildeflower]

#trueee

niche things I love about Indian culture

(Besides the awesome fashion, food, mythology, architecture, music, and philosophies)

-in Hindi, “ladies and gentlemen” is “goddesses and gentlemen” (देवियों और सज्जनो)

-how you measure age by how many monsoons you’ve seen (“he is of 10 monsoons”)

-good morning WhatsApp forwards. Yes, this is a controversial one. I just think it’s cute as hell

-how 2 Indians can each know like 4 languages but still not be able to communicate with each other because they don’t share a single common one

-men wearing lots of jewellery especially gold hoop earrings 👀👌🏽

-nose rings (I got mine when I was a kid WITH my parents’ approval)

-the fact that Indian English uses so many archaic words and terms. And also so many terms that sound like they’re from the year 2050 (like “biodata” for resume)

-“where should I put this?” “On my head.”

-the expression “sucking my blood” in Punjabi when someone is annoying you. “Stop sucking my blood,” “He’s really sucking my blood.” Also “He’s eating my brain” in Hindi is a good one too

-how shop owners serve you food and chai and how the men drape saris over themselves to model them for you

-impromptu poetry sessions (“वह क्या बात है!”)

-there’s a reason so many animes are inspired by Hinduism and Buddhism. The original spirit bombs and other magical energy weapons were in the mahabharat lol

-really off the wall units of measurement. Lakh makes perfect sense. Crore makes a bit of sense. But why is a mahakalpa 311,040,000,000,000 years. Why does an akshauhini consist of 21,870 chariots; 21,870 elephants; 65,610 horses and 109,350 infantry. That is so specific

-the fact that no one’s gonna top the party we’re gonna throw when the queen dies

[theprettywildeflower]

#stan the saree vale bhaiya

truer words have never been spoken 🙆🏽‍♀️

[theprettywildeflower]

#omg

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I JOINED ONE OF MY GOOGLE MEETS WITH MY PERSONAL ACCOUNT BECAUSE IM USED TO IT AUTOMATICALLY JOINING WITU MY SCHOOL ACCOUNT AND MY SCIENCE TEACHER WAS LIKE “are you ‘gingerbread god of hyperdeath’?” AND I JUST SLAPPED MY HAND TO MY MOUTH AND I COULDNT LEAVE FAST ENOUGH IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING 😭😭😭 MY SCIENCE TECAHER LITERALLY SAID “bye bye gingerbread god of hyperdeath”

[theprettywildeflower]

modern greek mythology stories as penguin classics

the penelopiad by margaret atwood, lore olympus by rachel smythe, ariadne by jennifer saint, circe by madeline miller, the song of achiles by madeline miller, the lightning thief by rick riordan