He.

So i wrote, just like he asked me to. My hands moved as commanded, the words slipping and sliding and adjusting and re-adjusting clumsily all over the page. I tried to stop to cancel and correct but my heart was trembling with fear. There was no time. No time. And i was so so tired. How could i write? WHAT could i write? He wouldnt like any of it. And so i made up long-winded, complicated reasons, all of which would doom me one way or another..

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and blinked because the words blurred for a second. I blinked repeatedly and continued scribbling. The words blurred again. Phrases, alphabets and worded emotions swayed in front of my eyes in a strange dance. The ink swam and swirled and twisted and turned and convulsed and shuddered and quivered. I shivered. I blinked, once, twice, again and AGAIN. i rubbed my eyes and thats when i realized i was quietly crying. Tears were rolling out of my eyes softly and unknowingly. The pen fell out of my crazed grip and i let out a huge sob.

He had very lovingly held me in his arms and told me it was all going to be okay. He told me to write. He told me it helped. He said it would be therapeutic.

And then, as i curled up and pouted a little and told him i was tired and some sleep would fix everything, his smile grew cold and he said i should write it all out so that he could understand.

And. He said i wasn’t to sleep till i did.

Here’s to the Fifteenth :D

*sings paper planes*

*Must everything you do, make me wanna smile? Cant i not like you for a while?*

insane smile and tingling palms. A very, very, nimble kind of happiness igniting your bones. prolonged laughter and quick blushes. A touch, a tentative touch and a million little goosebumps. One word and an assortment of delicious emotions.

 Is it all in your head? or are you really in Heaven?

Just remember..

“whoever it is, knows who they are ;]”

Starstruck

Yesterday was the most beautiful night of my life. Beautiful. Not just fun or sexy or cool. It was amazing. I love my friends.

*Dancin’ where the stars go blue,

dancin’ where the evening fell,

Dancing in my wooden shoes,

in a wedding gown..

Where do you go when you’re lonely
Where do you go when you’re blue
Where do you go when you’re lonely
I’ll follow you
When the stars go blue*

Everything felt so pretty and bright and happy and quiet and outstanding. Some people complete you. Some people complement you. Some heal and some help. I’m lucky to have found them. Thankyou [:

*Laughing with your pretty mouth
Laughing with your broken eyes
Laughing with your lover’s tongue
In a lullaby*

Looking up, warm in our borrowed hoodies and long-sleeves to stare up at a sky dotted with a million little stars. Countless yet each shining, fresh and distinct. Darkness and soft sounds of a calm sea. Glittery, soft sand and familiar bodies. Experience and a half.

*Where do you go when you’re lonely
Where do you go when you’re blue
Where do you go when you’re lonely
I’ll follow you*

Following each other in the dark. Trust and love. Stumbling, steadying, laughing. Walking towards nowhere yet somewhere. So unsure, yet sure. So alone, yet together. So sleepy, yet awake. So tired, yet fresh. So calm, yet excited. So, so, so jaded, yet STARSTRUCK.

We watched wide-eyed as God showed us why we should feel so blessed.

Everyone’s SATing and I’m just sitting -_-

So..

noise. noise. noise. happy noise. lots of laughter and a beautiful feather, ready to float away. Paint the walls yellow and scratch the green away. no, no, no. The green is permanent but it will dull with age. hope, yea?

Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, Burn. collect the ashes. all you want to say, all you think, all you write can be condensed to a pinch of blackish-grey powder.

Lick and wince. the wound is still fresh but it grows into a whole different entity day by day.

You pat the feather and stroke it. You finger it and smile. You enjoy it and the next thing you know, its broken and can no longer fly.

Did you kill? think.

Disequilibrium

I havent written in a while because i had no urges to. But i missed my BloggieBaby so here i am. I had the creepiest economics paper today and it was a RETAKE. I’m still convinced I’ll get a bad grade AGAIN. Sigh.. I just dont get it.

Ok, so you know how some people dont get certain concepts? I’m, way beyond that hopelessness. I dont get ANY of it save some babyish bits. Even that is okay. But during the exam what made me realize my brain just wasn’t made for such a subject was this:

I was making a simple demand and supply diagram. I figured i’d see how it went from there, whether price fell or whatever. Drawing these are fun and i didnt know what to write. So i make the axes and i draw the two lines crossing, The i label the x and y axis and THEN. I had a blank moment.. ok no, blank MOMENTS, where i forgot which line was demand and which supply. YES. I’m doing freaking AS level economics and i forgot if the Demand curve was the one above or the one below.

 SEE? .. It was so absurd it was FUNNY. I figured it out finally.. by recalling a note i gave someone. I know that would help me some day. But you see? Im hopeless. I’m challenged.

So the people in the exam room were very weird as expected. Porcupine Guy was the funniest. He was a tall guy, looked pretty old and was wearing a fitted blue teeshirt. So he walks in and sits down, then gets up, blushes, pulls his shirt down because his undies were showing and then sat again. Then he squirmed, got up again, pulled his shirt down under his butt and plopped down AGAIN. His hair was gelled in such a way that he looked like a porcupine. Or some such creature. SONIC THE HEDGEHOG maybe. lol.

The dude behind amna was dressed as if for his own wedding. Proper shirt, dress pants, black shiny shoes, slicked down hair. I mean who has that much time in the morning? He was obviously a smartass who while people like me tried to read through a thousand creepy answers before leaving, took his time looking like an ass. hmph.

The girl next to me had weird hair. Half was straight, half curly. Yes. Maybe her straightener broke down. I dont know. What i know is, its awfully distracting when a girl with creepy hybrid sort of God-knows-how-to-describe-hair is sitting next to you, HYPERVENTILATING, you just CANNOT concentrate. Oh and she was wearing really high, black heels. I mean, DUDE. And while we were waiting in that stupid room, she suddenly burst out saying “IM SCARED… AAAAHH” -_-

There was also mr-charlie-chaplin-in-white-kurta, mr. brown-skin-with-brown-jeans-and-brown-shirt, ms. insanely-large-hoop-earrings-which-were-golden and one other guy i dont wanna describe because i SAW HIM FIRST SO HA. Back off :D hahahaha.

Economics. should.die.die.die. See what it makes people into?

Just because…

Her hair caught the light and it shone for a solitary moment before it died down again. She turned around and half-smiled and bit her lip. If it wasn’t for the eyes so red, so so red, she would almost be seductive. A faint whiff of motia and a sniff later, she was gone.

……

Judy wore Johnnys ring. Juliet ignored the radio dude. Blondie cried at her party.  This is how the world works.

…..

The leaf rots and the fruit sours. You laugh and i cower

…..

His fist clenched as he watched her leave and he cried out. Almost. His throat refused to release his pained voice. His knees gave away and he staggered to the nearest sofa. Sinking down, a mixture of self-pity and dread enveloping him, he crushed a pretty, little flower under his unforgiving frame.

…..

Kurtas, garlands, mehendi and a little drama. You got your wedding, I got my regrets.

…..

Glow. Glow. Glow. DIE. like a Black Moth.

…..

Staple the vows to the certificate of Love and put it into an envelope and mail it to him. Done? You are a woman now.

……

When i was eleven, the teacup- that held the hot, story, liquid, that was my world- broke, and he said “You’re not a baby anymore”

……

She preserved the rose he bought with half-hearted passion and borrowed money, in her diary. Just because.

Have you come here to play Jesus, to the lepers in your head?

*Well, its too late, tonight,

to drag the past out into the light,

We’re one, But we’re not the same,

we need to carry each other,

carry each other*

 

Relationships are about complementing the other. Instead of highlighting your partners flaws and bringing them out, why dont you dilute them? Its creepy when someone asks for constant changes in your personality because it makes you wonder whether they liked the idealized version of you or the REAL you. And thats not a pretty feeling. At all, at all. I’ll change when i want, when i feel like it, when i think its necessary. Until then, I’m sorry, but youre stuck with me, the way i am, the way i choose to be.

Stop modifying my life! Its a horrible thing to do, just because you can. Please. Dont.

*Well, did i ask for too much? more than a lot? You gave me nothing, now its all ive got*

Visualize. Our perfect world. The unity, the harmony, the CALM- which is the most integral part -missing. What the hell happened? Was it easier to dream then? Its NOT a fairytale. Its not. you said so yourself, very aptly, but harshly.

*You say, Love is a temple, love is a higher law. Youre asking me to enter but then you make me crawl, and i cant keep holding on!*

You said it would work. You said it would change. You said it would always make sense.

You said, One love.

I didnt start the fire. It was always burning. You never tried to extinguish it. You rebuked and rejected and ignored it. Look at what it has done, baby..

Think. Think. Unthink.

A hopeful yellow? Erect. Rootless tree. FuckyouFUCKYOU. Jazz. Cafe’ Alao. Pasta. Eid. Eidi. Jameel. Love? Yes. No. Maybe. Envy. Green. What you said. Point. Twins. No. Maybe. Sleepover intensity. A little peach. Tight. Too tight. Chinese without Chicken. Heaven? Yes. Pepsi. Pepsi. Pepsi. FuckYOU. Pepsi. Ink. Roza. Damnit. Sniff. Lick? No. Almost. White. White. Black and Red. Love. Yes. WTF? BZ, seriously wth? Switch off.

Switch on. KFC. Chaand. Mehendi. Dubai. Towel hearts and rosepetal drama. Limited profiles and yoyoyoyoyoyo. Little Miss Bossy. Miss who lost her Boss. Bossy. Miss. miss. miss. miss. pepsi. miss. miss. miss. miss. a.o.land. Brian and Pepsi. Purple blobs and discovering bodies. Paint and dark basements. Begging and pleading. Punish. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy. Pepsi. Pepsisexi.

Asomexi. Oxyfix. shmexi. Lithium.

A fallen Angel. A rootless tree. Two faces, each blacker and more screwed than the other.

If you think yellow flowers make up for your indifference during those 5 freaking years, you are sadly mistaken, Mr.A.M. Not even moons can make up for what you put me through. And you have the nerve to ask,

“You write? :S”

Which fucking world do you live in? Do you even know my NAME?

Maila-ness all around..

I understand that guys are perverted and they look at you in dirty ways and they have weird sexual desires, yada yada yada.. BUT, seriously, do they not know what self-control is? Must some be so filthy, uncouth and disgusting at times?

My list of the creepy guys ive encountered or am related to is truly a masterpiece. But the most disgusting of all those despicable creatures are:

1- Ape: His real name starts with an M. Although, this is the only one who is actually hot from my list, his creepiness knows no bounds. This guy compulsively stares at my freaking TOENAILS. yes. TOENAILS. And no, toenails is not a codeword or euphimism for any other part of the body. So yes. Its not like he doesnt stare at other obvious parts BUT he’s obsessed with my “teeny weeny toes” =/ I hate this guy. He grins like a fucking ape and  he wears t-shirts with obscenities on them. Once wore a black shirt with a large “XXL” written across the chest and a bold arrow pointing down to his fly =/ The other time, it was a red shirt with “Isex. Do you?” on it. And he wears these to formal dawats. He’s not related to me in any way. He’s a distant family-friend-ish something but i see him way too much. And he calls me Little Lady which pisses me off. So ape can just go die with his rotten hands trying to touch me, stuffed up his ass. yea :)

2: F: F is in my school. He is large, hairy and has scraggly facial hair. He loves urdu shair-o-shairi and is sort of mad. He stares and spits. He walks in a really weird way and has no fucking manners. Two weeks into my new school he tried to fb-chat me up. Said i was special. It still makes me feel icky. He’s a pseudo-religious-fanatic. Once he spat half-a-nestle-watter-bottle out in class like a fountain because he forgot he was fasting! yes. Dis-gust-ing. The creepiest thing he does, however is, lean back against the desk behind him.. spread out his arms..spread out his legs.. and.. move his crotch up and down.. fast, fast, faster, faster.. BLEGH. Its horrific to see him at it. It isnt even FUNNY.

3: F: This time, its my first cousin who is tall, lanky and has a staring disorder. I think his stupid eyes dont know how to freaking blink. If he stares, he stares like there’s no tomorrow, even if you glare right back at him. He even stares at his own AUNTS. So maybe its not his fault. But THE WAY HE EATS. Thats whats creepy. he stuffs food into his mouth as if he starves at home. And he’s flthy rich, mind you. Two iphones, home theatre, two laptops, own business.. =/ wtf does this guy need? FOOD apparently. FOOD. he eats like a hungry jungli. =/

4: A: Again, first cousin. This one can actually tie up with Ape. He’s the most perverted guy ive ever seen. You know the kind of guys who peep into bathrooms, make jokes about bellybuttons at age 7, feel little girls up? Thats him. If you havent seen that kind, dont worry. These creeps are rare. If youre wondering why I get to meet them all, im cursed. Yes. Its my sins, i tell you. A thinks he looks sexy with his long hair with a middle-parting which he straightens..He looks like a hijra. He insists on wearing V-necks when he is fat and has a fucking jungle of hair on his chest. He is a true maila in every sense of the word. Fake fb profiles, city-school maila friends, hooting, staring, grinning like a baboon, zero intelligence or ambition and lots of money to spend on his hair. I hate this one more than i hate Ape. Anyday.. He is sadistic also. Since he was young, he would throw ketchup on cats, try to drown girls, try to kill little animals.. so yes. Messed up and perverted. This guy needs a whole new life. And a brain or two.

5) K: He’s MY maila. The only one i dont really mind. lol

LOL

Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue-ish

If it wasnt for Jesus,

We’d all be Jewish!

Happy Fifteenth :)

No time. Little time. No time.

I could do so much. So many things that my heart is yearning to do. So many things i dream of, fantasize about, think will actually make me genuinely happy. But. No time. No point starting something you cannot finish. Cant construct a shoddy, half-built stucture of Bliss.

Yesterday was a happy day. It was. I dont remember having that much fun since quite a bit. Seemed so easy, so natural. I wont forget.

Friday was the kind of day that i wouldnt wish even on Ape whom i hate from the bottom of my heart. But we said we would forget. And so we will. Because seriously, it isn’t the kind of thing you’d want to keep in your system. It tore apart sensibility, ate away at sense, eroded all happy positive thoughts..

 

blegh.

the clock is ticking. hmph.

Disappointed. Detention? =_=

The owl swoops down upon prey, so innocent and vulnerable. The clock ticks. Tick-tock-tick-tock. Grains of speckled sand trickle down, smoothly and swiftlyinto the mass below. Time runs out. The boy cuts his finger on a Kite-string and loses the elevated body of colours and dreams. I scream. She laughs. I scream. He laughs. I scream. They laugh. I cry. They quieten down.

Awkwardness. Moment of epiphany. Lesson not learnt. The boy cuts his finger again and watches the blood flow, frustrated. Things dont change. Sharpness just doesnt suddenly become blunt. The owl claws its own wing off. The moon bursts into smouldering pieces.

Mayhem.

A sock puppet catches fire and burns the child. She screams. They laugh.

 

Disturbia. All around me. I see light and it hurts.

*As darkness turns to light, it ends tonight*

I feel so out of place and disorientated. Everytime i achieve complete clarity; that moment of epiphany, something goes wrong. A picture, a text or something random. I was so ready but a text sent to the wrong recipient got me thinking AGAIN. and over-thinking is awful. You cannot stop and your brain explodes with this variety of ideas, each so fresh yet so so absurd. I want to be steady, you know? Its about time. This wobbling and teetering isn’t helping. Its making my very being hurt and ache and cry out for help.

 

I dont belong even with my closest friends. I just dont. Ive stopped trying cuz some people are just not enough for others whatever the hell they do. Nothing makes sense and I HATE half-hearted attempts. I hate discussions and i hate words. I hate “talking it out” I just want to forget anythign bad/awful/hurtful happened. So much easier and convenient. I really dont have the strength to be curious.

 

It sucks that this period of my life will be the shortest and the fastest. A few months and its OVER. For good. Fo Sho. Its an awful feeling and ive been trying to deal with it since Day 1. I start depending upon people too much. Little things make my life and then when those vanish, i refuse to see the bigger picture.

 

Its like I’m at an airport. I’m watching my friends prepare to leave, to move on. I see them wave goodbye, see them move towards the gate. I see them excited and happy and glistening with teh idea of a Future. I see them leave. I see them leave forever. I see them forgetting and learning to forget. I see them beign the people theyre meant to be. But always, i feel detached from the scene. As if i dont belong or like its not my place to be in that picture. Im not one of them and i neevr will be. I’m not a part of their lives; not as integral atleast, as they or i thought. It doesnt work like that. People drift away and find new happiness and new love and thats that. But people like me dwell upon the old memories and refuse to stop them. Its like a lose-lose situation. You keep reminiscing yet you refuse to get them back. Its their time to move on. Its my time to kiss them goodbye. Its their time to shine. Its my time to step away.

If i had but half a moon of the hue and  taste i desire, I’d wear it around my neck, lick it once in a while and never float within even an inch’s proximity to Gloominess

Ps: Your fashion sense is AWFUL :)

Tasting the horrible, cold pill. When inquire about my sins, I am hushed and glared at. Too many things break you and as one blow after the other brings to mind the “Et tu Brute-ness” of it all, you realize this might just be what you need. A shattering of this You might lead to a better formed You later. But what if you lose some pieces permanently?

I thought i was happy today. I was. I lalala-ed and hopped and hummed and laughed. But mostly to myself and by myself. Thats when i realized how horribly lonely i was. I mean, theres a limit to how much one can talk to ones own self. The Phonecall was a happy highlight and left me giddy for quite a bit.

But bitchy cousins have a way you know? They drift in and stifle all positivity within a ten feet radius. Its what they do. Good for them. One day i’ll be immune. I will. Wait and watch. I just hope it happens soon.

If  my dreams are that strong, why are they weakening me?

I tried.

You know how you go to bed thinking you’ll solve Life the next day? you make plans, play and re-play entire scenes in your head till your skin tingles with excitement and everything makes so much sense. When you wake up though, the world has changed. Your plans no longer work. One word from someone topples your whole world over and youre left breathless, words of explainations stuck in your throat. You die inside as you realize your plans never come into action. You are a failure. A hopeless dreamer. Go die. You deserve it.

The Eleventh of August brings new horrors. Surprised? I’m not :)

Ive taken to testing everyone around me. I cant simply be happy, be “chirpy” and wild anymore. Everythings become more complicated, nothing seems funny. So was i living in a bubble then, when i was most happy? Or is it me covering myself up in unnecessary ways, now, when i dont know what happiness is?

I feel so much older and tired every day i wake up for school. Its not fun. Nothings fun anymore. Wheres the glitter and the sparkle and the laughter associated with being aesha?

Its not every day, bitch :)

Its not every day that you feel dirty and used, that a text makes your heart hurt, that you feel your life draining down faster than you ever thought, that you are accused of being unnaturally moved by the loss of a loved one, that you are so misunderstood that it makes you speechless, that your people let you down..

Its not every day when funny things make you cry, when you want to torture yourself till you die, that everyone seems to be against you, that the clouds seem sad, that you feel alienated even to your own self, that you regret having been born..

Its not every day when protectors turn murderous, when past love seems fictional, that you feel like a completely different person, when nothing affects you enough, when you just dont know..

Its not every day that you glimpse your future and realize there’s nothing there..

And so, here’s to the Tenth of August.. Cheers :)

Please God, make me cherish, appreciate and love my children, when i have them. Make me hug them, encourage them and celebrate their success, however small it is.

Please.

FML

The end.

i regret. i cry. but nothing makes me change my mind.

Where do we go from here?

Deadlock.
Locked, inside. So tight,
so rigid,
so clenched,
is the heart that i
cannot even breathe.

 

But do i even need to? Do i deserve to?

Clutching my arms, shivering, crying, i try to bundle myself,

protect myself,

from Me.

How futile is redemption. I only just found out.

Encircled.

Do you sometimes feel something drip into your soul, drop by drop by drop by drop?

Because essentially when you feel things.. when you feel something so intricate, so inexplicable… its when its intense..Or when your soul is fully alive, alert almost, to pick up the tiniest of signs..

But, to know each drop, to feel each drop, to savour each drop and to know that its different from the next or the previous you have to sway in that rhythm, to know that magic song..

Where’s the song in my soul? I’ve lost it with my love.. Now i roam round and round in circles so devoid of sensitivity that to stop is also a crime, to listen, to feel and to savour is close to commiting a heinous sin..

How do i uncircle my life when i dont feel the song dripping into my soul, with bits of love and shining globules of excitement?

sometimes the laughter gets so loud, the murmurs of pain are forgotten..

But most of the time, the laughter gets so loud it becomes painful and harsh and fake, and you curl back up inside yourself, only to find Pain moaning in your tired ear..

i have severe monopolizing issues =_=

Imiss

I miss rain and watching the rain pour..

I miss easy laughter and the easy silence

I miss the constant texting and the occasional phonecall

I miss cuddling and hugging and playing House

I miss letting go of myself and setting my emotions free

I miss not being judged if i act childish

I miss my face when it didnt look so dead and pale and withdrawn..

I miss school and forgetting home

I miss loving and caring and not being so cold

I miss being content

I miss the days when i would wake up happy and go to sleep happier

I miss the beautiful dreams and waking up to virtual heaven

I miss the random “i love you”s

I miss being understood and cherished

Imiss. Do you?

Silver shoes

that haunt your dreams and ask you

why; why you dont

just slip into them

and fly.

You say, no. You want to

say yes though

and it shows on your face.

But, you fear wings (and silver shoes) are like gossamer

strings-

shiny promises and dreams-come-true -

one tug and you’ll fall, fall, fall

back to earth

and falling hurts more than never being

able to soar.

So you smile and swallow and say

‘No thankyou’ as politely as possible

and to add an excuse,

(just to be polite; because you want to be offered the opportunity to fly once again, some other time maybe, when you are braver)

you say,

“they dont suit me,

they’ll look better on someone else”

and die inside,

as feathers after feathers fall off

the wings of your dreams..

Sister of my Heart. Princess of my Prince

Kiss me through the phone?

Hearing my voice, in those recorded calls, made my head spin. I sounded so different, so light and happy, so childish and gentle.. Have i really changed? Can i ever be that person again? Is it possible to sound like that again? Who was that person who giggled and murmured sweet words? I dont remember the last time ive talked like that. I dont know why, but they make me tear up, those recordings. Where the fuck is that girl?!

of bobbleheads and sweat patches

So, today was the TCF orientation thing and from 9 to 3, we were sitting in stuffy classrooms listening to strange men ranting about things which will, in no way, help us. But owing to the fact that those men were either victims of OCD and/or gigglers and/or apple-faced, the ‘training’ didn’t get too boring.

Teacher/guy 1: We never found out his name. Giving us training to conduct an English Grammar Summer Camp, he felt no need to speak in English. He kept saying “yaaaaaaar.. tch.. hmm.. hahahaha”

He was young and kind of cute but he sweated so profusely that after a while, his purple dress-shirt became transparent. He was confused and too giggly to conduct a class full of adults.

A red-shirted guy asked him “so, do we punish the children? How exactly do we punish them?”

to that, Sweat-man said, “han, bohat acha sawal hai.. hmm.. yaaaaaarrr… punishment.. hahahahaha… yaarrr.. BAS PHYSICAL MAT HONA HAN.. ahahahhahahahahah.. PHYSICAL NAHI HONEY KA HAI.. yaaaar.. bas.. aisey punish karo ke insan ki be-izzati na ho.. *giggle*”

At this point, another guy asked, “So what are the ages of the kids we are teaching?”

Sweatman, in a very animated started off..

“yaaarr.. yeh jo YES alumni ka program hai.. i was amongst the first batch of students to go abroad.. so … hmm.. 22 saal ka hon mein..“

hahahaha.. so at this point, we all burst out laughing and someone told him that the wuestion was about the TCF children. This YES alumni person didn’t even know how to spell confidence.. he wrote Confidance. But he still was the funnest one. He could atleast laugh at himself.

Teacher 2: This man- tall and stick-like, buttoned collar, blue tie, buttoned cuffs, a small hairy face- was F.parekh. Farooq parekh. He came in, he didn’t smile and he looked around sneering. Some of the guys (the obnoxious, cute ones) called out “SIRRRRRRRRRRRRR! SIRRR… KAISEY HAIN APPP?”

To that, he merely frowned, gave a little smile and said, “SIT STRAIGHT!”

I umbled “oooohhh.. disss” to yusra and F.P said “no murmuring please”

This guy was a serial killer. I’m sure of it. He compulsively twitched and frowned. His head bobbed. He had sudden mood swings. His hands moved constantly and he had to literally hold them to keep them from doing things like cleaning the desk furiously with a duster. He remembered names. He remembered mine after he made me answer something. And he kept saying “SO, AESHA, put it very precisely” It freaked me out. He admitted that he was a little crazy. What creeped us out was that he wasnt sweating. HE WOULDN’T SWEAT. Then we noticed that his beard dripped when he bobbed his head =/

Teacher 3: This one, looked like an apple. Thats all im going to say. =p

So it WAS eventful, this Orientation. Yusra and i had a giggling fit in Mr.bobbleheads class which WASN’T good because he’s CRAZY. He looked like he would burst any second. Yusi almost blew her top off at these three guys who kept joking about “period”..

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAARR… period hai.. *wink*”

“How long is YOUR period hasan? *big grin*”

“Yaaarr… bara long aur painful period hai ;)”

GOD. they were 16 or 17. how mature. lol

AMOXIL!

another day, another story

So today, i forgot the name of the antibiotics i ALWAYS take for these fucking tonsils of mine =/ haha.. seriously.. O doesnt remember either.. so yeah.. the capsules were red and yellow.. HELP, anyone?

The end of something new

When you try something new, people not only lose their heads but also restructure your whole personality in their head. One little action can reduce you from a “nice, sweet, girl” to “slut” or “whore”

Its funny at first. But however much you try to deny it, it does hurt. What hurts is you are thought to be heartless, cruel, bitchy and crazy. No one asks you for reasons with an open mind. They ask with pre-conceived notions in their stupid, fat heads.

What hurts the most is when people close to you, judge you. They not only refuse to support your whims, they even disown you. Yes. Because youre teh stupid one who marked the end.

Well, I’m sorry. But you know what? YOU. All you people close to me who freaked out and screamed and ranted and asked and forced and shook me and cursed and glared; YOU are the ones i owe for thsi ego, solid as rock. I refuse to cry with or without you. I refuse to be hurt by your callous words. I refuse to register that people i love think im a flirting slut. I DONT HEAR YOU. I dont. And trust me, the more you push, the more i’ll pull back.

i heart hate you all. thanks for nothing.

Cuz all of you know that in this situation; if you were me, i would have given you all the support and love you needed regardless of whether you were right or wrong. Because love knows no boundries. Oh, you didn’t know that did you? :)

Thanks you all,  for the supposed “saving you from self-destruction”… You succeeded in detroying me you.own.bloody.self :) MUCH love :)

Tentative

We see Changes..

large pools of places-we-have-never-been..

tempting seas of places-we-always-wanted-to-go..

But why do we hesitate then? Why? What holds us back from touching our dreams, tasting them, swallowing them, internalizing them? Its us. right? wrong?

But some of us escape. Run to those places. Free as wild birds.

We then dip in our toes gingerly.. twiddle them around, testing, getting comfortable in the new-ness around us, the coldness of the New.. And then we relax. We slowly slide down into the dream, as our toes adjust to it..

The gasp of shock that comes next isnt a surprise. Dreams are cold. Toes lie. We never control your future. We shiver, we try to clamber out frantically, only to realize the air outside is going to freeze us if we step out. The outside world does not take being ditched too kindly.

And so we wade around in the dream; unhappy, helpless and with  hearts bleeding tears of remorse.

Who said dreamers were smart? they kill themselves.

And so it changed..

it was creeping up,

it was always there..

Within me is a paradox,

i cant deny

or disown,

cuz it makes me, me.

so should i change?

is that the requirement?

will the ruby hurt turn into a ripe purple then?

Because to me, it has ended

and the pounding, the tearing and ripping

is the rythym of life.

yes, yes, Messed up. But really,

is smiling the only way?

When i wince as i scratch,

when i tear as i cry,

i feel your warmth in the redness of my skin.

Yes, i need you.

But to hurt me. To throw me around

No smiles, my love.

The sun has already drowned.

ode to The Board (=p)

you shielded us,

while we sat nervous,

excited, thrilled beyond imagination

and tentatively touched

felt and loved..

 

The car smelt of hot,strong,love

 

You hid us from sniggers,

and pointing and aww-ing smiles..

 

What do you ask for, in return,

Dija’s board?

Respect

Stars are emblems of people you love.

yusi’s list (censored)

Now here are certain tid-bits i remember related to you, aesha =p

>You-me-jana-probably more people

we bonded through her too.. ‘hayee Jerryyyyy’

>You started calling guys ‘Makhis’

>There was something about bakras..

the amount of gel and all.. eg. Sibtain :D

>the retarded guys on my list eg. Mr. ‘aik hai aur naik hai’

>You can’t live without kajal:D

>You’re my book supplying person. You keep me up-to-date

>Your laugh is bloody contagious!

>Your creative juices flow mostly during Urdu (they run riot, actually)

>You told me i needed a memory card for my leaky memory

>In grade 8 you gave me a yellow frame that Maryam broke! :)

>Khachar, Bloo blob, Princessy things

>Nafees Siddiqui, the Robot. Computer exhibition was fun, fun, fun esp the polling station

>I founded ILLC in urdu . You applied for the post of the ‘Lameness Editor’. I still have the letter

>Aesha! Taftan QT!! our mascot. You forgot him! hawww!

>You like hugging Sr. Julie :/

>Ist December 06, surprise b’day party at Sarah’s. You, dumbass, didn’t get it. We gave you a million hints at school. haww. Dumbass. :)

>You studied 1 chapter for your geography mock that didn’t come. You got 6o% in it. HMMMPHHHHH!

>Ypou are the Elf Queen, we are the little *snorts* elves from your kingdom!

>Raghav and Uncouth

>The many lyceum plays. Pregnant guy and his dancing friends

*drawing of pregnant guy*

>Noorains b’day at Pak Towers. We ran back and  forth to buy her a present. Sana and her friend trapped you and i saved you from their clutches!

>

A green leaf

You know what turns the veins around?

you.

and i walk and i talk and walk. yes, i walk

(a little furthur, my darling)

 

walk and then wonder. (Oh yes, wonder)

oh girl, did you know you are yellow inside?

no, but the blood

that flows to and fro and fro and to

and within and above and out and about

is because,

You.

You take my hand and squeeze it

 (a little)

cuz veins and lines.. and even lines on palms, disappear sometimes

Not disappear, girl.

Blur.

Blur my life and you’ll see the colours, each so distinct

yet the same,

The transience of Me.

(of  you,  little girl?)

who are you?

who is Me?

 

I’m me but with a twist of You.

delicious.