and you ask me why i'm so hurt, when I knew it was coming.....
I have no answer but "I love him."
And then you sigh or roll your eyes and i look away wondering why I always let you put my whole existance into a few, simple, meaningless words, "You're so stupid and OTT"
...........
and i'll paint your potrait, in shades of crimson, on my raw wrist....
The side-effects of love.
i used to love braiding my hair with flowers and bead.
I used to love wearing loads of colourful bangles.
I used to love applying
henna on my palms.
I used to love glitter.
I used to love singing out loud and jumping around.
I used to love crowds and noise.
What happened?
Is that growing up?
Is this what maturity is?
all my plans have failed. Miserably. What am i to do now?:S
the sad, sad, boy...
as i was returning home, from school, i saw a boy i'll never forget. Not because he was wearing red hot trousers and a pink shirt. Not because he was bathed in oil. No, its because he was crying. This guy, must have been about 18 and he was sitting on the steps of one of the small houses in Saddar. he was the saddest thing i've ever seen. Life continued around him. Not one person turned around to ask him what was wrong. No one even looked at him. Not even a glance. The busy, small lane was filled with people, noise, colour and there he was lost and crying. I felt so bad. I hate crowds because they sadden me, make me feel so tiny and invisible. But then i love crowds, because i can lose myself in them......
.....yes meha dear, your nails were short. :):)
..Am i living?
Slice my skin,
With your sharp tongue.
Lick the blood,
off my lips.
Bite.
Reality check.
Raw-ness revealed.
And such a pain,
you inflict upon me,
that my senses,
once again,
Frantically,
try to locate,
Love,
in it all.
Passion.
Released monster.
Making hate,
all day long,
through the inky nights.
Consummation,
so raw, so fierce
even the angels,
close their bright,
shining eyes,
block out light.
*see no evil!*
Smelling,
reeking of you,
your hate,
I bow again,
sub-serviant.
Why?
I wish,
it was a question,
i was given a choice to answer....
My life,
an already-answered questionaire.
No choice,
no decisions,
count.
Only regrets,
shroud my presence,
like latex,
i can't slip off.
I'm living.
Yes.
Or am I?
Just a li'l something
I wanna see an orange banana!!!!!!!!!! If there is one that is.... is there?:S
Written in urdu.....!
Hey i didn't know journalism was "sahafat" in urdu. Almost everyone in the class knew except me! And journalism is one of
my
career options. How pathetic is that? I mean what if, one day when I've become a journalist, someone asks me,
"What do you do miss. aiesha?"
I'll probably say, "Oh I'm a journalist!"
What if...just imagine a person looking dazed, saying, "KIA?"
then what would i have done huh? I'd have been looking through the urdu dictionary (lughat, we call it)See!! You have to know what your career is called in Urdu to make everyone understand. How embarrassing is it man? I didn't know what sahafat was:P
Okay here's a list of my career options:
* Journalism - (thank to ms. siddique, i know this one!) Sahafat.
* Author - Musannif
* Fashion designer - um Kapra designer? (??) :S
SEE I DONT KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!
* R.J - Radio pe ganey chalaney wali! haha
See i dont know! :(:( *sniff*
* Actress - Ada-kara
* Psychologist - Zehni Amraaz ki Doctor! (but isn't that psychiatry?:S)
* Lawyer - Waqeel
I won't even bring in....
* Film-making - Films banana (heh)
* Editor - ?dont know?
*Advertisement manager - GOD knows!
I'M SO IGNORANT. CAN SOMEONE HELP ME?
Okay did you know that "sheh-sawaari" is horse-back riding in Urdu?:P Lol how weird.
....:(
Isn't it strange how one minute you are as happy as a lark and you want to sing and dance and praise the Lord and the next minute you are down in the dumps, planning to kill yourself and nothing can cheer you up. I don't know how it happens so quickly and swiftly:like a predator hunting its prey and killing it within seconds. Depression hunts and kills all the good feelings - joy, satisfaction and the likes - and leaves not even a morsel behind, for us, to console ourselves with.
I have stopped trusting those tiny moments of pleasure because the paranoia that they will be replaced by sorrows is always there. I hate being depressed yet i allow myself to wallow in this state. I dont know. Never said i was normal.
Sigh I'm probably not even making sense. Ugh.
