(you are) running out of cello tape. . . again, again, again. I see in you a reflection of my last endeavor One other I loved (or pretended to) And left in my rearview mirror receding, receding, gone Don't get this wrong, she chased the lights for miles But I was dead already. This, my love, is a letter of caution Beware my changing heart, for I will love you and then I won't, simple as that. Don't chase after the dying star, amor it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. . #blegh#idkwhatthisis#imsickbye
At this month's literary meet, someone said that as children we all had that one character from books or TV that we wanted to be like. For me, that 'character' was my father. He was the hero of all my books and champion of all the battles in my head. So when I first heard that we would be talking about books from our past, my immediate choice was this wonderful piece of work that once belonged to him. It's a vivid narrative of fifty battles that changed the way history was shaped, and I studied these battles with all my 11-year-old self's enthusiasm. This book was a part of me in the days that Baba was teaching me all he knew about world history, especially our own Mughal history. More than the actual material of the book, what makes it nostalgic for me is the feeling I associate with it. Getting to sit with my hero figure and hear him talk about fascinating events and even more fascinating people was, and still is, the highlight of my days. I still remember the little scrapbook he had me make, which included a picture and a select few lines about each of the Mughal emperors. This also included Razia Sultana (or as she prefered: Razia Sultan; for she was herself a warrior, not the wife of one). These are all things I wanted to say at the actual event, but I'm shy on stage now, apparently. I was never like this. It's so strange to go up there and not know what to say when all your life you've been the one to volunteer for it when no one else would. There's one thing I need to work on. Another honorary mention (that I also forgot to speak about at the meet) is To Be A Ninja by Benedict Jacka. It was lent to me by a friend during MCAT and it carried me through those stressful days. It's a children's adventure story set in Japan, about three siblings who escape an abusive father and find refuge in a ninja training facility. The adventure, the pace, the storytelling - it was all so reminiscent of the books I loved as a child that it became a sort of beacon of calm for me. I could read this book after a 9 hour day at the academy and feel better again. So to add to everyone's MCAT ke dinon ki books, this one was mine :D #KELS
Lately I feel like my heart has been somewhere else. I feel nothing, want nothing, do nothing. It's like that song that goes, "I feel like a 6/10". 40% of me has taken a short leave of absence. This 40% included the friendship and socialization center, unfortunately. So I would like to apologize to everyone I've been pushing away, and ask you to understand for a little bit until I can get myself back. I'm trying to make my living space less depressing, which should be quite the mission considering the hostel I live in. But I've got good roommates who understand the need for personal space and I am grateful for them. Let's hope I can focus on what's important right now and get my priorities back on track. It's not easy being socially active, happy, up to date with coursework, and up to date with family stuff at the same time, especially not when your heart feels like a small scared child cowering in a corner. But this is not an excuse. I will bring myself back and I will not let my messed up brain affect those around me who care about me. Tl,dr: I've only been a ghost of myself lately but I'm getting myself back soon. Thank you for being patient. Here's a picture from a day when my outfit sucked but I had fun. Also, listen to "You Was" originally recorded by Dean Martin and Peggy Lee.
Last night I fell asleep holding my mother's hand. This morning I had breakfast in my dad's office before we visited Bulleh Shah's tomb and spent three hours just driving around. I only have two more beautiful mornings at home before I go back to my 8-2 routine and a suffocating little dorm room. Still thankful for the opportunities I have, though. If people only ever got what they deserved I would not be here today.
It was a fine sunny day and no one was listening to her. She wept and pleaded and begged, but they refused to spare her a glance. She wept more in anger at their ignorance, at how they chose to walk to their demise so eagerly. And for hours she wept as they left her there at the threshold, on her knees with bloodied fists clenched tight. Teeth clenched tighter. Eyes shut, breath heaving. Hours. Days. Weeks. She wept blood as they left and she wept as they screamed and she wept as their corpses were scavenged. Because god-dammit, she loved them with a force that could set fire to cities. But this love had not been enough to keep them from crossing that threshold. Because.. well, because they did not love her back.
اس کے منہ سے وہ الفاظ نکلتے ہی محفل میں موجود تمام افراد خاموش ہو گئے۔ وہ معصوم نظروں سے ان سب کو دیکھ رہی تھی اور شاید یہ اندازہ کرنا چاہ رہی تھی کہ کہیں اس نے کوئی غلط بات نہ کہہ دی ہو۔ عثمان اس کی کیفیت کو بھانپ چکا تھا اور یہ جانتا تھا کہ اگر سب اسکو یوں ہی گھورتے رہے تو اس کی آنکھوں سے آنسو ٹپکنے میں دیر نہیں لگے گی۔ اسی لیے اس نے ہنس کر محفل کا رخ واپس 'دست صبا' کی طرف موڑ دیا۔ قندیل نے اس کی طرف ممنون نظروں سے دیکھا اور پھر دونوں اپنے اپنے حلقے میں گفتگو میں مگن ہو گئے۔ یہ ان کی پہلی اور آخری ملاقات تھی۔ // stories that could have been
Honey. When she asked you your favourite colour you said it was the colour of lightning. When you love you love so much it hurts to keep it in. It's bursting out of you in streams and as tears. My love, this is not weakness. This is strength in it's highest form - to let yourself feel with such intensity. I am weakness, I am fear. I tremble in the face of confrontation. But you, my angel, you are rainbows and beauty and strength. You are the colour of lightning. You are bright red love, bleeding love, heartwarming love. You are light, and light, and light.