In darkness of a prospect

You don't know who to trust, do you?

The esteem and regard, your most prized possessions, that you had reared for yourself over such a long period of time- you feel them slipping out of your hands, don't you?

The fear of losing them is sneaking up on you, is it not my love?

And what if you do lose it all? What if you lose what you've worn your fingers to the bones for?

Is it because you tripped somehow, somewhere?

Or is it because those filth covered beings who've wrecked their once-existing conscience wish to bring you down, my love?

They say only you can answer the question. But then, can you?

Sunkee-ness!

Had to change. 

I hope you guys can still reach me.

Here I am, with all my sunkee-ness.... until I find a decent name for myself and this blog.

Twenty-two, and counting.

*wipes away the sweat from the brow*

Birthdays are no more fun.

Thank God it's over.

A cake-less birthday- but almost. The day was somehow saved.

Another stupid birthday went swooshing by. I don't feel special anymore- neither does anyone attempt at that.

It's just that...

*yawns*

I should go to bed.

Shab-bakhair.

Idols

Does not feel very good when your idols wear and tear with the passage of time. The deception of their existence is accentuated, and you begin doubting your own credibility.

Hai kahaan ka irada...

Such batao k iss chaandni raat mein

Kis se waada kiya hai, kahaan jaogay...?

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I want to speak..

But, do you want to hear?

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drizzle over me, until i transform into an eternal lake

a desert... whose thirst never quenches.

come rain, come storm- the yearning never ceases.


the dry cracks, no one can fill in. they might not show after a repleting shower; but for how long, my dear? how long? they'll come back. the tired, parched winds shall suck away every tiny bit of moisture in no time. and will they be wrong in doing so? but, not at all. we fight for survival, all of us, don't we?

the scorching sun, will be back tomorrow. more than willing to sear every inch of this surface.


it's never enough.

the comfort of a single rainy day, is not enough- by any means.

but then who knows what is enough...

perhaps, the yearning, the longing, is an intrinsic trait.

perhaps, there will never be enough..

a few million droplets of rain, are sweet. evanescent, nevertheless.

this wasteland, it often longs of a life as ephemeral as the sweetness of a pouring rain.

wishful thinking.

i'm shedding tears, and i don't know why.

true story.

-

take me away from all of this. 


you're my only bet now. i've gone all in this time. don't let me down.


be my escape, please- from everything.

times like these..

when you want to break someone's jaw.

here's the sitch now...

remember how i went awol a few weeks back? well, i went underground. cannot fill you in much on it- it's classified info. -shrugs- it's a national security concern -takes a pause-

-chuckles-

so, the deal is that i might need to change my name, probably.... i might even need to change my blog address perhaps. i know, that sounds so absurd irrespective of whatever reason there might be. i know. but, oh well.... i just have to- in order to preserve the insanity, the incongruity, the mindlessness and weirdness that has been long associated with this good-for-nothing blog.

therefore, help.

suggestion, anyone?

night.

p.s. have i wished you a happy eid mubarak? yes? no? oh well, eid mubarak [again- if i haven't already].

it's official.

i'm the most confused person, in my entire khandaan... which, as a matter of fact, is filled with a whole lot of confident [ over-confident at times, conceited too] brats.

however, my perplexed state of mind thoroughly amuses me whenever 'Sd reenacts it for me. it's such a precious[or semi]-lol-at-yourself moment.

p.s. and no, i'm not conceited. i just look that way. dysfunctional genes, i'd say. -lol-  -rofl-

p.p.s. eid mabrook.

p.p.p.s. disclaimer= this by no means implies that i have any slightest kind of antipathy for my family [khaandaan], they're amazing.

p.p.p.p.s i'm such a terribly fuzool person... good-for-nothing-sort.

i don't know what makes me happy.

i want to be happy- for a little while at least...

sighs. may be i should stop trying so much.

-shakes head-

-yawns-

just trying to re-emphasize a previously mentioned fact...

i am very messed up. very, i repeat.

observations=

i was strolling around my home with two different KINDS of slippers on, for almost.... half of the day. of course, i didn't happen to notice. my head is held too high. pfft.

my desktop's keyboard's shift key decided to die. my obliques now imply question marks. oh, and if you see the number '1' randomly sticking out it's tongue at you at the end of some sentence, then you must realise that no disrespect was intended- it now implies an exclamation mark1111111

if you see a leprechaun around your home... remember, it has nothing to do with my keyboard being dysfunctional- you just saw yourself in the mirror. it's okay1 you'll survive.

findings=

the fact that i wear two different types of shoes, or that this hasn't happened for the first time does not by any chance mean that i am messed up... it just points out to the fact that i'm am unaware of my surroundings.

the fact that my shift key does not work, once again does not by any chance verify the being messed up theory, it just tells us what superior degree of procrastination i posses.

there's nothing wrong about being a leprechaun.

conclusion=

i'm lost.

i'm lazy.

you're a leprechaun.

toodles.