I'm sorry I woke up, was what I wanted to say instead.

AV

In the morning today, I had decided that I'd write a note before I go to sleep tonight. About my day, my feelings, and my feelings about my day.

Although I'm extremely tired, and gave up on the idea initially, yet I eventually decided against all odds and came to write a note.

Truth be told, I'm too tired to backtrack and think about the day.

All I want to say right now is that I wish I could see my therapist everyday. She's the only person I really speak to. And now it doesn't even bother me that I pay someone to just buy their time so that they'd hear me out. It is what it is. And I like talking to her.

It relieves me a little knowing that I'm not going to die with all these feelings, emotions and thoughts bottled up inside me.

I just don't like it when she forces me to think too hard and put a finger on my feelings and describe them. I feel trapped at times when I don't have answers to her questions.

Sigh.

In the next session, I plan to speak to her about S.

I need to sleep. My only respite, from life itself.

Thank you God for sleep.

Punched in the stomach

I planned to sleep, but then I reckoned writing might help a little.

So here I am, again, feeling jaded.

May be this was a bad idea. I'll just go.

But before I go...

I wish people in my life didn't make it the sole purpose of their lives to punch me in the stomach, especially when I am already drowning with my own weight - hitting a rock-bottom.

My phone's buzzing... I think an apology is in order. Why? Because I am me. And this me needs to apologize to others for being itself.

It's easier to apologize than it is to explain.

And that folks, is how your own defense mechanism destroys you.

P.S. All I have with me is an inventory of failed relationships, at every level. Well done, me.

Don't

Breathe.

'Unnecessarily aggressive'

It's this feeling of deprivation of an extreme sort that comes over me and drowns me.

I feel alone lonely. Loneliness is a killer, innit? Hmm, it is.

Without giving principles of prose and writing much importance, I will be mostly jotting down my thoughts merely.

I think sometimes I know what I need. Validation. It is validation, I subconsciously seek.

I miss Lahore very much today. To the point that as I write this I feel my eyes tearing up.

And why do I miss Lahore?

Because I miss my people. Who made me feel like I was something, who cherished and appreciated me, who approved of me.

I feel broken again today.

It's this sense of deprivation of some kind.

I have everything. So, what is it?

Heart, hurt, and the hullabaloo

I don't even believe in this day. And yet, my heart feels a little heavy on the absence of commemoration (or acknowledgement).

Solitary Confinement

Locked myself in a cell today. There's no light coming in, and very little air - getting lesser by the day. At this rate, and if all goes as per plan, I should die soon.

It's a controlled experiment.

There is no air.

I feel my heart sinking again. It has started happening a lot lately.

There's a haunting sense of loneliness.

They weigh me down, these people. Every time I talk to them, it feels as if somebody has tied my heart with a boulder and chucked it into a lake - to sink.

They may not be bad people, but are the necessarily good to me? I don't have an answer yet - and that my friend, should be called 'optimism'.

I'm losing my grip on things. I'm fading away so fast it's becoming hard for me to remember what it was like.

I'm too much. He had said once. He wasn't wrong, was he?

I can't breathe.

Rot

Are you aware that affection can also rot away?

All things - body, heart, and the soul, and everything within - can rot.

Especially dead stuff.

Prisoner

Do you know what captivity feels like?

There's a line between place and part - which is to say they're two different constructs. To me, it's a very distinct line. But I wonder if it actually is?

I've been wallowing in extreme self-doubt recently. It's been quite some time now. I've discovered that people around me see, hear and feel the world very differently - it's a stark contrast, almost. My perspective appears to be illusory to me.

Between my mental health issues and my real-life problems, I cannot tell which is which anymore. My mental issues create real-life problems and my problems feed my mental instability. It's a vicious self-feeding loop.

Sometimes I sit myself down to understand the mechanics behind my current state of affairs. I think about a wounded man, with spears sticking into him - all of him. The small spaces of bloody flesh left in between the spearheads have shards of glass sticking into them. Not a single un-pierced inch left. You see him there, lying in the pool of his own blood. How do you help him? How do you touch him? Without pushing those blades further inside him.

May be you just let him lie there, and die slowly, and painfully. May be you just put him out.

I don't know. I am not the bystander.

Bokeh

There are moments in a day when I eagerly want to just die. At times it seems to be the only way to jolt people around me up to stop taking me for granted. And the most sinister-ly apt too. Because death leaves the living with no second chances. Only regrets.

I feel hurt. So broken, that the pieces of my wreck collide with each other to cause more agony.

And there's nobody to ease it away.

I am aching in places I didn't know existed.

The pain is excruciating. It's obliterating my soul.

I sit in the pool of my own blood, still - but not dead.

I try, but I am unable to help myself. My bleeding body lies in a dump in a dark alley, and I scream for help in a voice so meek that even I cannot hear myself.

The few passers-by that crossed me could but lend me looks of disgust and disapproval.

I feel a streak of warm liquid streak out of my eyes blurring my sight. The lights at end of the alley blob up into a pretty bokeh.

It hurts so much.

I cannot hold the weight of my eyelids anymore, they collapse on me.

The last thought as darkness envelopes me - I'll never be good enough... no matter wh

Good enough.

I guess the biggest fear I ever had was not being good enough. And I also guess I had to live long enough to see my fear turn into my reality.

I may do whatever I may think should be the right amount or even above that, but it shall never be enough.

If "good-enough" was a point on scale, it would be a perpetually upward moving point. I'll never get there.

Anyway.

Zeest se tung ho ae Daagh tou jeetay kion ho
Jaan pyaari bhi nahin jaan se jaatay bhi nahin

In vain.

I've often scrolled through my contacts... In an attempt to find somebody who'd understand. Who'd listen. Not judge. Somebody who'd tell me that I suffered a lot and that I am brave to be still standing.

I've scrolled and grazed my eyes over each name slowly, and thoughtfully, in a futile search.

Self-fulfilling prophecies

I have realized I am madly in love with him. I've come to the conclusion that only he has the power to make me happy, or sad.
And I've also come to the conclusion that I am extremely terrified. I love him dearly. And perhaps that's what frightens me. I am afraid of him(?).
I'm hiding behind this facade of arrogance. Because I'm scared of vulnerability. I can't allow myself to be vulnerable.
I cannot love him. I cannot care for him. Without opening myself to him - which would mean compromising the barricades I've built around myself.
Tears roll down my face as I write this. I feel a gripping sense of terror and helplessness.
He thinks I don't care about him, rather that I can't care less.
What have I become? A monster.
I'm making my nightmares my very reality with my own hands.
I'm scripting my own end.

- Nov 6

Smile please.

I think when they say smile they mean the real thing. Real. Genuine. Smile.

Smile can solve many problems.

I'd reckon it would be safe to assume they are definitely not referring to bitter, forced, pasted smiles.

Anyway. It's a pleasant morning. It's not cold but there's a subtle dry chill in the air. It's annoying and satisfying at the same time.

I feel like having a good hearty breakfast, the kind the makes you happy. But well, I'll end up with just anything that fills the stomach.

Conversations, are missing. Or rather, I miss conversations. Notice these one(two)-liners?

I can't comprehend why, but weekends are hard on me.

Oh well, I must go now and just have something to feed myself. Who knows if I'm depressed or just very hungry. The symptoms may overlap.

Smiles.

Reins

It's a scary feeling, not being able to control yourself.

I was very excited about the weekend. I felt almost ecstatic once I got back home yesterday. Life was good, until a few hours later at least.

I don't know what hit me. I know the trivial pseudo-triggers that set-off the mayhem, but what was it actually, or why - I do not know.

Humans are creatures of convenience, I said to a friend once. Therefore, by the virtue of being that very creature and for the subsequent sake of convenience  I'll just brush it under the "depression" carpet. The carpet which instead of ornamenting the floor has become a mound of sorts. Everything that I cannot explain - drag-and-drop under depression. Easy peasy.

I'm not sure what I am on about really.

Truth is, I don't want to talk to anyone about myself. I don't feel safe. I don't trust anybody enough to feel that they would show me compassion. Is it because deep inside I feel I don't deserve any (compassion)? I don't know.

There is a child inside me, hiding in a corner somewhere, who's terrified of getting bruised, of feeling the pain, of being mocked, and most of all - of not being good enough I suppose.

I'm drifting away, from life itself. Everything's losing its meaning. There is no point.

There's a perpetual sliver of an aching somewhere deep within. Like an aching muscle you can't pinpoint. It's a melancholy hum that's omnipresent. You don't notice it all the time, but come silence and it makes its presence known.

It hurt last night. The veins stretching out through my arms to my hands felt an excruciating surge of pain as I laid in darkness.

I have lost my appetite for expression all of a sudden.  I'll sleep.

I like how sleep takes away hours from my days, my life. Sleep is a friend.

I forgot to make a door

I had earlier decided that I would be writing a post every night before going to bed. I have failed to do so. I had thought writing down my feelings on a piece of paper (or a blog, alternatively) would help release the negativity that weighs me down - as per popular belief.

Even such a trivial task like this is an ordeal. Nowadays, everything is. I even struggle with the burden of holding my head in place these days. And I am not exaggerating. My neck muscles are badly strained. It hurts so much, it makes me cry.

But then again, everything does nowadays. Even nothing does. 

Well, turns out even looking at this white-screened window makes me cry.

Does anybody have any idea, the remotest even, how difficult the most mundane things, chores, routines have become for me? How much effort they take? How they drain me completely?

What do I want? What do I have? Who do I have?

I have walls around me; thick walls, bunker-thick. I built these walls. And... I forgot to make a door. 

There is no door. 

It's dark and damp inside, it gets hard to breathe at times. And there's a stench of rot.

Do you know how it smells like when a soul rots?

The heart wants what it wants

"... - or else it does not care."

I haven't washed my hair; it's been seven days. Last I washed my face with some thing other than just plain water - some sort of soap - was some days ago. The soles of my feet are black and dirty - an uncanny resemblance to my soul perhaps, who knows. I have been wearing the same t-shirt since... over a week now. I haven't put on any fresh clothing since then, except for when I go to work during the day - sane enough (yet) to adhere to social standards of upkeep.

And yet the outside world is of the idea that I live a close to perfect life. Now that's some achievement.

Or is it?

The fire that burns within and keeps us alive, is dead inside me. It's now a pile of ash - it might have taken everything with it. There could be an ember hidden under that pile somewhere, dying but not dead yet. Or there could be nothing. A part of me hopes it's not nothing - while the other, well, the other doesn't give a damn.

What does my heart want? And why won't it speak to me in a goddamn proper syntax? Beats me.

Reclamation

It's been forever.

Fine tuning

*sighs*

Attune yourself to hurt, me love. And everything shall be fine in no time. I know.

... *smiles*

Monologues from a dreary afternoon

Woe to the man, who finds not a thing of beauty in the rising and setting of the sun. Who ceases to be enchanted by the starry night sky. Who finds not a warmth in the charm of a crisp eve. Woe to him, as when it rains, not a smile kindles inside of him. Woe to him, who knows not bliss when the morning breeze caresses him. Who knows not of a delight creeping under his skin as the winter sun shines upon him. Who listens not, to the hushed chuckles of trees in the solitude of a windy afternoon. Who breathes in no pleasure from the soft morning dew. And woe be unto him, who looks at the bliss-ridden marvels around him, but with a numb stare. For what remains a difference betwixt him and a boulderstone?

Woe to you my precious, for what are you if not a boulderstone?

With apologies to Allama Iqbal

'Hum se kab pyaar hai, haan neend tumhain pyaari hai...'

Sighs.

One verse I love quoting out of its original context.

Out of sight.

... Hence, out of mind.

Sighs.

I can't sleep.

...

Dil ka kanwal jo roz-o-shab, rehta shagufta tha so ab
Uss ka yeh ab'tar haal hai, ik sabza-e-pamaal hai
Ik phool kumlaya hua, sookha hua bikhra hua
Ronda parra hai khaak per...

Ae chaand muharram ke, tu badli mein chala ja
Tujhe dekh ke mar jaaye na, beemar hai Sughra (SA)

Bicharne waalay tujhe dekh dekh rota hon,
Tu phir milega tou kitna badal chuka hoga...

The battles within.

I'm not, almost never, in a position to raise a finger at anyone, whatsoever.

My actions might very well as well be far more objectionable.

Sighs.

... I'm not proud of whatever I've become.

I can't pretend I'm okay, when not a single particle of my existence feels okay. I just I can't.

I am tired - of putting up a show all the time.

I am sick, and I am tired.

Sighs.

Please Allah saaiin...

It's so cold in here.

Of Techno City, depression and Kat baby's legs...

Sighs.
I don't want to be depressed.
It's so not me.
Since when did I start letting things bother me yaar...
I've become so brittle.
Sighs. Choro.
French braid banao, chalo.
Aaaye haaye!
Teil tou lagga liya karo.
*empties a tin of Sasso over head*
Thodi Thodi depression tou aati jaati hai na... Some tend to stay longer than others.
Some even stick with us for our whole life.
We can't do anything about that...
And jis tarah ke hum hain built... You know... The type who are usually always backward looking and who hold on to the past. Tend to feel more depression...
But then automatically, we also find the good fuzzy memories in the past too, which bring us a smile...
The idea is to deal with our depression our own way... Even if it means watching Kat's legs!
(...)
I just... I don't know. I can't seem to locate (and access the cache holding) good fuzzy moments in the past.
I wish I at least had that ability.
You do have that abillity. I guess bad natually always has a greater influence than good. So we can't help that. But just cause you can't locate or remember them, doesn't mean they aren't there.
Acha sunu.
Chalo.
Kahan Chalain?
Techno City... Quad core lainay!
No Techno City, too much garmi man. What is wrong with you!?
We go techno when it - rains.

Talk is cheap.

I'm emotionally  drained.

Kuj onj vi raahvaa'n okhiyaa'n san

...
Kuj gal vich ghamaa'n da touq vi si...

Kuj saajan kasar na chori si
Kuj zehr raqeebaa'n ghol dita...

Working from home

... Is not cool. ADD is to be blamed.

In another news, here's something I found while sifting through one of my note pads...

(Courtesy: Sloth)

Let's be honest

You don't need a friend, a lover, a healer.

You need an attendant.

Sighs.

... Where do we find you an attendant?

Tu mere safar ka shareek hai - Nahin humsafar!

... Yeh jo raig-e-dasht-e-firaq hai
Mere raastoun mein bichhi huwi
Kisi morr per rukay kahin
Yeh jo raat hai mere chaar suu
Magar iski koi sehar nahin
Na chha'oun hai na samar koi
Meine chaan dekha shajar shajar
Mere charagar...

I miss you Liz

...

Umr ki raftaar...

Rog aise bhi gham-e-yaar se lagg jaate hain
Dar se uthte hain tou, diwaar se lagg jaate hain

Ishq aaghaz mein halki si khalish rakhta hai
Baad mein sainkrroun aazaar se lagg jaate hain

Pehle pehle hawwas ik aadh dukaan khoulti hai
Phir tou bazaar k bazaar se lagg jaate hain

Be-bassi bhi kabhi qurbat ka sabab banti hai
Ro na pa’ain tou galay yaar se lagg jaate hain

Katranain gham ki jo galiyoun mein urri phirti hain
Ghar mein lay aao tou anbaar se lagg jaate hain

Daag daaman ke hon, dil ke hon, ke chehre ke Faraz
Kuch nishaan umr ki raftaar se lagg jaate hain

It's kind of a funny story

What if I sleep and I don't wake up?

Will you miss me?

I don't usually dream

I dreamed last night. The kind of dreams you dream with open eyes, and an awake mind. I dreamed of things, and places- and people. I dreamed of a world.

I felt a rainbow and a lone butterfly inside my stomach. I felt a little scared too. I didn't want my eyes to close, and my mind to sleep and wake up the next day to the same miseries.

I dreamed for myself last night.

But last night, I didn't feel well. I kept having this sinking feeling, my body ached and I tossed and turned. For a moment, I thought I might not see another day. Like the reaper was somewhere near me, around me.

Can dreaming end up in something so morbid?

-

I am scared. I'm walking down a tunnel and I can suddenly see a light at the end; and it's... It's frightening me.

The 'what-if's' are tearing me apart.

I once posted about how my mother said, 'Lougoun ko azmana nahin chahiye.'

I think lately I let this important thought she tried to cultivate inside my young mind, and the underlying rationale, slip.

I'm testing people around me, and... It's- no- I'm letting myself down.

I'm talking to a...

To a... To a blog?!

How miserable is that?

How pathetically miserable is that?!

...

Tumhari sirf tabiyat he nahin kharaab; tumhara dimaagh bhi kharaab hai.

Sighs.

Kab nahin tha(?).

Dil na umeed tou nahin, na kaam he tou hai,
Lambi hai gham ki shaam, magar shaam he tou hai...

I think I need a hug.

But I'd never admit.

In a loop

You know what's the hardest phase of grief, don't you?

It's that part, when something horrific happens and you...

You run it over and over again, inside your head, like a video in a loop - trying to register it with your brains. Trying, and failing. Trying again; failing again.

With every try, it hurts. It hurts harder; it hurts deeper.

With every replay, you relive the horror.
With every moment you relive, a hundredth of the reality registers with you - acceptance. A sharp pang sinks into your existence.

On the count of hundred, you come to terms with what ever happened - and numbness follows.

Quiet. An eerie quiet, is all you hear.

It doesn't hurt anymore.

It haunts.

Zara Dair Mein Ufaq Pe

Yeh haseen shaam apni

Abhi jis mein ghul rahi hai

Tere pairahan ki khushbu

Abhi jis mein khil rahe hain

Mere khwaab ke shagoofay

Zara dair ka hai manzar…

Zara dair mein ufaq pe

Khilayga koi sitaara

Teri simt dekh kar woh

Karayga koi ishaara,

Tere dil ko aayega phir

Kisi yaad ka bulaawa,

Koi qissa-e-judai

Koi kaar-e-naa-mukammal

Koi khwaab-e-naashagufta…

Koi baat kehne wali,

Humein chahiye tha milna

Kisi ehd-e-meherbaan mein

Kisi khwaab ke yaqeen mein,

Kisi aur aasmaan per

Kisi aur sarzameen mein

Humein chahiye tha milna…

-Parveen Shakir

Let's play pretend

Let's pretend everything is alright; and may be, just may be it will.

...

Qaza ne waar kiya bhi tou pusht e sar pe kiya,
Majaal kiski thi jo aata rubaru e Ali (AS).

Of hope and paralysis

'I don't want her living off hope.'
'There are worse things.''You're wrong!
Bad news stops us for a while, but then you move on. Hope - is paralysing.'
(Criminal Minds)

Hope is paralysing!

Lizzie... Allah saaiin, I  can't seem to get over the reality. It keeps haunting me, the fact that she's no more.

*sighs*

I wish she'd just come back somehow.

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'No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities.'

- Christian Nestell Bovee

I feel so left out.

So lonely.

I used to have Liz in times like these once, now there's no one. Just me.

*sighs*

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Early monday mornings

I feel weird.

And in another story: I've realised that the tiniest variation in the tone, and smallest gestures, or their absence, gets to me.

It's the bloody expectation gap, i believe. But what am i supposed to do about it?

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Shehr sunsaan hai kidher jaay'n
Khaak ho ker  kaheen bikhar jaay'n

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xnduwsqiwgus

The brevity of the momentary spans of happiness in my life has started getting to me now.

*tired sigh*

I should have went to office today. There was so much work; and now I'll have to suffer for probably the rest of the coming week.

All for nothing. *throws her hands up in the air*

Besides, it has been a horrible day so far.

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Econ lessons, life, and similar nuisance

Life is a bloody set of choices made. Irrespective of who makes the choice for you - you'll always end up losing one thing, in return for another.

But then this is life we're talking about after all;  and that's how it's been since the beginning of time. So, what's there to it then?

Nothing. There's nothing to it; save the fact that there are people who quite very often end up having higher opportunity costs...

You're reading a post written by one.

Tareek raastoun mein..

Bay'noor ho chuki hai bohat shehr ki fiza
Tareek raastoun mein kaheen kho na ja'ain hum
Sehra-e-zindagi mein koi doosra na tha
Suntay rahe hain aap he apni sadaa'ain hum

Expendable me

Lack of consideration - aaj ke ghamoun ke akhbaar ki surkhi.
I feel so dispensable. And well, let's face it - it is a truth; the truth. I wish it wasn't.
But I wish for so many things... *flicks her wrist at herself* Who cares!

Looked out the window a while ago to find a little furball frolicking around.

*sighs*

I miss Lizzie so much. Why did she have to go? It breaks my heart...

Of reviews, and work on saturdays

AAA: Kya kar rahe hain?

Shah Saab: .... Tumhari Russain ko English banna raha hon!

Me: .... *bursts into laughter*

Of scents, and moods

Fragrances... make me happy less miserable.

I think this new template has a little glitch - I cannot comment on my posts, nor reply to comments. 

Hmm....

If you were to die now, in this moment; you'd die a death of a wretched person, won't you love?

I feel sorry for you sometimes.

Jab koi duusra nahin hota...

Asar uss ko zarra nahin hota 

Ranj raahat fazaa nahin hota 

Tum hamaray kisi tarah na huwe 

Warna duniya mein kya nahin hota

Naarasaaii se dam rukay tou rukay 

Mein kisi se Khafa nahin hota 

Tum meray paas hotay ho goya 

Jab koi duusra nahin hota

Haal-e-dil yaar ko likhouN kion ker 

Haath dil se judaa nahin hota 

Kion sunnay arz-e-muztarib ae Momin 

Sanam aaKhir Khudaa nahin hota

In times like these

Liz, she used to be around all the time. I know she was just a cat but believe me when I say, I wasn't so lonely with her around all the time. I used to have someone to talk to, whom I knew, for certain, won't judge me, or criticize me even if what I had to say was utter nuisance (which mostly is the case). Whom, most of all, I could cuddle, and whom I knew I could've forced into listening to me.

*sighs* Anyway. The morning has lit up. I guess I'll go back to bed now.

... Lizzie - I miss her. A lot.

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Lonely Summer Afternoons

The weather isn't as bad as it had been until earlier this week. It's sunny, but breezy. I guess I get why the weather updates kept saying, it will be pleasant this weekend.

With S and papa jaani gone on their separate little expeditions; ammi, Zizoo (she'll kill me if she finds I call her that here) and I are sort of, feeling a tad wee lonely. It's quieter around here now. Not saying papa jaani and S used to ensure a havoc back here- well I'm sure about S at least. *giggles*

Trimmed my nails. I think I clipped them a little too short, they're going to bug me a little now.

So... Do you have something to say?

Please don't say no. Say something; anything.

Dil chah raha hai koi mujhse baat baatain karay, bohat saari.

And for the same reason, I miss Gruph. She talks a lot. A lot lot! The emphasis on a lot cannot simply be over emphasized, that's all I'm saying.

I want to go meet her; and I know, she's going to get a bit out of hand and go on talking without any need for input, or response from the other party. So, basically I know it's going to be a one-way communication. But, I am desperate. *deep breath*

Lazy, lonely, summer afternoons. Sounds like a good time to read, eh?

Let's see how the day unrolls.

Adieu.

P.S. Ohhh... How do you pronounce Les Misrables? Leh-what? Lol.

I am supposed to be working.

I'm tired of being lonely.

And, I'm tired of being around people... *smiles vapidly*

Exhausted, actually - So would've I told you, had you stayed to listen.

-

Such an unsatisfied soul I have turned into.

I've lost so much. And everything that remains is fading out, slowly but surely. Allah saeen, family, friends, loved ones, inner peace, the slightest essence of life, all's lost.

Iss qadr iztaraab hai ke sumajh se baahir.

Zindagi kaise flip karjaati hai eik he dum mein youn achanak. Sambhalne ka mouqa bhi nahin deti.

I want to go back to the States. I know, coming back from there last October, I had almost sweared upon my own life never to return; but now I want to. I miss being around bj, rayyan... these are my pretexts.

Loug qurbaaniyaan kion dete hain? Kya haasil hojata hai? Izzat, aqeedat...? Aur woh jo zindagi bhar ke malaal haath aatay hain, qurbaan kiye jaanay wali cheezoun ka gham?

Dosroun ke dil tootne se bachanay ke liye, apni zindagi ki azeez tareen khwaahishat qurbaan kardi jaayn tou kya hota hai?

I've lost my zing - the factor that was me, that made me, me! I cannot concentrate on anything, anymore. Eik saraab ke peechay bhaag rahe hain hum. But can you blame us? Will you blame us?

Can you blame a weary desert traveler, beaten down by thirst and the scorching sun, for his mind's nasty illusive tricks? Can you blame him for chasing mirages, and hoping against hopes?

Hope's a nasty thing. Umeed jo marti nahin, insaan ko maar deti hai aksar.

S's in Istanbul, having loads of fun mashaAllah. She's one lucky gal. My cuddle monkey! *smiles* Knows how to get what she wants. May she always have what she wants, and for the better. Ameen.

Mein bohat zaalim hon? Nahin tou. Shayed... Nahin. Yaqeenan. Nahin yaar, mein zaalim tou nahin; bas halaat... ne aisa kardiya.

Aap khatarnaak had tak bigri huwi hain muhtarma. Aap chahti hain aapko pyaar kiya jaaye, aapka khayaal rakha jaaye, chahay aapka apna rawaiya kitna he na rawwa kion na ho. Aisa nahin hota yaar... Aisa kaheen nahin hota.

Aapko meri yaad nahin aati?

Mujhe khwaab nahin aatay... na burray na achay. My sleep, it's nothing but darkness. A vaccum, not even static. Time, wasted. I wish to have dreams while I sleep. I once asked Bambi to sell some of the many dreams Bambi sees almost every night, to me.

Mujhe neend se kya dushmani hai? Na sirf apni neend se, balke dosroun ki neend se bhi. *sighs*

Meine kya kiya hai yaar?

Kisi cheez mein dil nahin lagta - na deen mein, na duniya mein. Duniya ko tou jhoonko aag mein, yeh jo Allah saaeen aur apne beech itni duuri le aayi ho is per kion ghour nahin karti bibi?

I must go and work now. Office bhi jaana subha. Don't want to sleep, might not as well. Dinner bhi nahin kiya. *takes a deep breath*

Feel like reading punjabi poetry.

Uski muskurahat kitni pyaari hai na. *sighs and smiles*

Allah Hafiz...

Ab masla saara yeh hai muhtarma, ke duniya aapke mood ke mutabiq tou nahin na chalegi; duniya ka apna nizaam, apni marzi, apne mood.

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Of things, you never imagined living without

... Lizzie bohat yaad aati hai yaar - har waqt.

*sighs*

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Of departures and longings

I wish I could've boarded one of those flights...

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'Tum gehri neendoun mein jab soye soye ho,
Tou mujh mein jagtay ho kion...'

I miss my sillu Lizzu.

It's pathetic, how much i miss her.

What's even more pathetic and heart wrenching, at the same time, is the recollection of that night, when all I wished was for her to make it through the night n the day to break, so that I could've taken her somewhere- somewhere she could be tended to...

Death's inevitable... I just have an issue with it being so hideously painful for the dying, while others are left with no choice but to helplessly look at them die slowly n painfully.

I wish... Oh, forget it. *sighs* What does it even matter now.

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Kion dekhte rehte hain sitaaroun ki taraf hum
Jab unse mulaqaat ka waada bhi nahin hai... 

Greedy, much?

Liz

*sighs*

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Dear May,

You've been unkind to me in the most heinous ways possible. You've robbed me off things I couldn't have imagined living without. You took away things that meant the most to me. You've been brutal to me. You've hurt me. You've been unfair to me, and exceedingly so.

You have not the slightest remorse, do you? You're ruthless.

I shall never forget all that you've brought unto me, and neither shall I ever forgive.

Ann.

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"Is that all?"

“Then you and I should bid good-bye for a little while?"
I suppose so, sir."
And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it."
They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer."
Then say it."
Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present."
What must I say?"
The same, if you like, sir."
Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present; is that all?"
Yes."
It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands for instance; but no--that would not content me either. So you'll do nothing more than say Farewell, Jane?"
It is enough, sir; as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many."
Very likely; but it is blank and cool--'Farewell.”

- Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

I think it's about time I read it again.

I miss you Lizzu Pizzu.

...  *sighs*

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0229: Wide awake

So, I woke up at this hour with, as if, a bad taste in my mouth. The bad taste of an incomprehensible annoyance, i reckon. I woke up feeling unloved, un-cherished, unsolicited(?), if I may go on to say... Exhausted. Tired. Feelings that are not even close to what I had last in my mind before I surrendered myself to slumber.

Those are outrageously berserk feelings to come across in the middle of night, right out of nowhere- me thinks.

*sighs*

I'd like to go back sleep now.

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I was putting up this hanger on the door a while ago; and as I hammered in the nails, recollections of my pretty fluffball hammered my mind.

I wish she was here to watch me, in her particular avid supervisory manner, as I worked.

You simply loved doing that, didn't you, my lil fluffball?

I miss you Liz. I miss you all the time. Mum misses you too baby.

The most mundane of every day chores remind us of you. There's not a moment that passes by, without one of us letting out a cold sigh remembering you, wishing you were here with us, with all your snowey furriness.

K was heart broken hearing about her Snowey too, Liz. She misses you too.

*sighs*

I have to work on my goodbyes.

And six hundred and eighty eight other things.

....

... Allah saa'iin!

*sighs*

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Lizzu, we miss you, my precious furball.

I wish I could shut my eyes tightly, pray to Allah saaiin for all this to be the worst nightmare, and wake up to find you cuddled into yourself beside me.

*sighs*

I wish I could return home from work, and find you there. I wish you could nuzzle with my feet, in your own sillie welcoming manner, like you did every evening.

I'm sorry Liz, I couldn't save you...

*sighs*

I need somebody...

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Elizabeth...

'Dear Allah saaiin,

Liz isn't well. She's too sick to even move on her own. She won't even open up her blue marble eyes at times. She won't even move hear ears like a radar and respond when her name's called out. She...'

An incomplete post in my drafts from yesterday. I don't have to finish it anymore, do I?

Lizzu, we're gonna miss you so bad. I'm sorry you had to go through all that pain, my furball. I'm so sorry my chouttoo baby.

Let's be honest

'Who has a right over you?'

I feel like an object all of sudden, a piece of property.

There are rights attached to me; an entitlement, yes? Like the bundle of rights, per se?

Damn you, reality checks.

Aakhir e shab ke humsafar, Faiz na jaanay kya huwe...

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Alfaaz hain ke, zehreelay lehjoun mein bujhay huway teer

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“If you could buy time, I would sell it. Yesterday would be expensive, and tomorrow would be cheap.”

Very very cheap.

Sukoon naami cheez itni nayaab kion hojaati hai baaz lougoun ki zindagiyoun mein?

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Kabhi kissi ko mukammal jahaan nahin milta
Kabhi zameen tou kabhi aasmaan nahin milta...

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All that is lost my love, you still haven't reckoned fully.

It's tragic.

My heart bleeds for you, and forever it shall.

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Sunday morning musings- right out of the bed

Mein hoon woh nang-e-khalq k kehti hai jisko khaak
Issko banna ke kiyon meri mitti kharaab ki...

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Of night, slumber and dreams on french leave.

Mere paas tou khwaab bhi nahin...

The pitch black curtain never rises after I close my eyes; losing hope, I open my eyes every morning.

Bittersweet symphony, turning a tad sour

Let me be that forgotten ornament lying in a neglected corner of the house. The one whose existence people don't notice anymore. The one nobody talks about. The ones that catch the eye of merely maid servants, every once a few days; who then pick up a duster to cursorily brush off any dust residues. Pray, let me be.

Mein bohat jaldi thaknay laggi hon ab. Chaar qadam chal ker he saans charh jaata hai.

I've become so volatile.

It's a bit too much, if you ask me. I've achieved the level where one starts to annoy one's own self.

One moment, all I crave for is solitude, while the next, it starts creeping me out. Kaheen jaanay ka dil nahin karta, aur ghar baith ker bezaari hoti hai.

Work was a get away. My dilemmas however, have started to envelope that too in dense clouds of grimness.

Only so much time left now.

'It's only a matter of time now'... someone told me. I have not looked away from the ticking hands of the clock ever since.

It's been a month now.

Lagta hai zamana guzar gaya.

Will I ever be happy again? Not that I want to be. No sir, not at all - mostly because it doesn't make a difference. It's just an objective question that I find myself asking the blank spaces around me often.

If there's something that I wish now, is to be indifferent. Not happy, (but!) nor miserable either. I want to live the rest of my life, as if riffling through the life of an independent third party. I wish not be expected anything of.

Pata nahin kya aafat agayee hai jo iss tarah behave karne laggi ho!

I'm getting sick and tired of you. I swear I am.

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Kissi ko mera khayaal nahin

Dil chah raha hai k bachpan ki tarah aaj phir iss baat per rooun k, koi mujhse pyaar nahin karta, kissi ko mera khayaal nahin.

I thought she loved me, cared about me, and hence was by my side, standing right next to me, but...

*sighs*

You grow up to find out that stars aren't exactly glitter n sparkles sprinkled over the night sky; they're goddamn dead planets or whatever celestial bodies set on fire.

Right back at you, huh?

... Guess it was just a moment, without much to it, but erratic sentimental value.

The thing with moments is that they pass away, this one sure was no different.

I lose again. Ha!

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... These pangs of deadly agony in my chest, that travel down my arms, to my wrists, and then hands. My veins, it feels as if they constrict with in a fractin of a second, resulting in nothing but sharper and deeper pangs of excruciating pain.

It hurts - from the inside out. It's tormenting.

Why won't anyone make it stop?

It hurts, goddamnit.

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Mujhey ghuttan horahi hai.
Shadeed ghuttan.

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Zindagi khaak na thi; khaak uraatay guzri...

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Ajeeb hai raat aur din ki gardish.

Lekin us'se ajeeb hain aap,  muhtarma!

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