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'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.
...
Kuj gal vich ghamaa'n da touq vi si...
Kuj saajan kasar na chori si
Kuj zehr raqeebaa'n ghol dita...
You don't need a friend, a lover, a healer.
You need an attendant.
Sighs.
... Where do we find you an attendant?
... 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...
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.
'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)
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?
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.
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.
... Lizzie bohat yaad aati hai yaar - har waqt.
*sighs*
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.
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.
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.
Mein hoon woh nang-e-khalq k kehti hai jisko khaak
Issko banna ke kiyon meri mitti kharaab ki...
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!
... 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.
I can't breathe.
Ajeeb wehshat si horahi hai sham ke baad se. Kuch sumujh nahin araha. Bohat besukooni hai, bohat iztaraab.
The moonlit skies look beautiful. The underglow that the moonlight creates as the clouds glaze over it, is but plain wonder.
Magar bas phir achanak saara manzar dhundla gaya, roshni bikhar si gayee, aur aankhoun mein jallan ke siwa kuch nahin raha.
I can hear the clouds roar. They sound upset... It's raining.
Bas itni si zindagi hoti hai khushiyoun ki...
As long as it takes for an eye to open up after a blink.
You somehow end up being wrong all the time. ALL THE TIME. How do you do it? How do you manage? Must be really tough, huh?
I find it funny, I'm so sorry, I kinda sorta do.
*smirks*
Aur sach tou yeh bhi hai ke, kuch lougoun ko khushiyaan raas nahin aati. Aur kabhi woh khushiyoun ko raas nahin aatay.
Tou bas phir nateeja kuch youn hota hai k, barra mukhtasar sa saath hota hai inn lougoun ka aur khushiyoun ka.
Mein bohat khud gharz hon shayed. Apne dukh k aagay, kisi aur ka dukh, kisi aur ki pareshaani koi maaene he nahin rakhti.
Saari duniya aag ki laptoun mein jhulas rahi hai tou kya? Mujhe tou bas apni ragoun mein uth'ti huwi teesoun ki azeeyat ka ehsaas, aur kuch nahin, kuch bhi nahin.
Ya shayed, bohat behiss hon. Behissi k aala tareen darje per faaiz.
... *smiles*
Heart's been taking plunges lately. Irrespective of the brevity, it gets soaked pretty bad, in the slimy substance that the unidentified woes are made of.
So bland.
So listless.
So mechanical.
Exactly in line with the standard operating procedures.
Pathetic, in short.
I need to have hobbies, interests that I can take up as leisure activities.
I'm rotting myself, and very elegantly so.
And with that thought, I shall now take leave.
I have a life, in rotting, to attend...
Cheers.
Weekends, ftw.
Ridiculous.