It feels like all my life I’d been inhaling. Inhaling the poison, the toxic fumes coming out from the factories of their mind; and it feels like this is the first exhale of my life. There were only two ways: One way was to stuff myself up with it until I can’t take it anymore and blow up and the second way was to exhale – To let it go.
Crying..
Remember the time when owning a cordless was the coolest thing ever? Cricket had just become a national craze and Imran Khan a living legend; Atari and Nintendo were the next coolest thing to a Ferrari – not to mention shooting a duck with an actual gun on your Nintendo. How about playing Dave 1 on your brand new Windows 95 and finding out you could not cross level three no matter what? Or perhaps the time when you’d rent out movies on VHS because owning them was practically impossible? Or the time when you were suddenly informed that the letter ‘Z’ was no longer pronounced as ‘zedd’ but had been changed in to ‘zee’? Yes I’m talking about the 90′s!
The 90′s have come and gone, but this decade is still “da bomb”—from fashion trends to our favorite TV shows, these years are full of awesomeness. Let’s travel back to…
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Oh, this tension between our reality and dreams,
The where we are and the where we want to be.
The home we know and the home we desire,
The warmth of flame without the burn of fire.
The devoted love of another without pain,
The fear of moving on when we have everything to gain.
more sketches and poetry by me at facebook.com/areeshasmusings
Main hun suljhan main ek uljhan si,
Aasani main thori mushkil si,
Qareeb aatay hain log, dur jaatay hain loug,
kuch nahin kar paatay tou manatay hain soug.
Tum ho uljhan main ek suljhan se,
Mushkil main aasani se,
Qareeb aatay hain log, dur jaatay hain loug,
Kuch nahin kar paatay tou jamaatay hain rou’ub.
(This isn’t complete yet. This is my first attempt at writing in Urdu.)
I was on my way to college when I saw that coffee shop again. Everyday, I walked through the same street, ignoring that coffee shop because it reminded me of the little piece of heaven I shared with him. But today was one of those days when you just want to give your past self another chance. You want to feel what you used to, one last time. So I entered and sat on the corner most table. Our table. I looked for The Fault In Our Stars by John Green in my bag. Our Book. My eyes on its most precious word: “Okay.”
Wait, what’s that? I turned my IPod’s volume louder. Headphones on, of course. Tonight by Fm Static was playing. Our Song. Coincidence? I was in tears. I remember the last thing he said to me, “You’re a girl. You can cry. I can’t even do that.” Perks of being a girl? I wanted him to ask “Okay?” like he always did and today, for the first time, reply, “Not Okay.”
Someone dragged a chair towards my table. First thing I noticed were his hands. They looked familiar. It was him. My heartbeat faster than ever. Butterflies in my stomach turning into bats. His face, expressionless. “Hi.” Oh so you wanna keep it casual? “Hey.” I said, concealing my feelings mixed with nervousness and excitement. No response. Are you fucking kidding me? “What’s up?” I asked because he was too cool to do that? “Moved to Dublin. Gonna work until college starts.” He smiled. Charming asshole. He had a lot of problems with getting into a good college and always stayed stressed out about that. “Ohh. See, everything works out one way or the other.” I smiled bright. “Except for us.” He responded like he already knew what I was going to say…
Here’s to the ones who write lyrics in the library,
To the ones who are just not ordinary.
To the artists, the writers,
the rebels, the fighters.
They’ll say you’re not good enough or you’re not what they’re looking for.
They’ll tell you what you do is worthless or they’ll say, “Dream on, kid!”
“DREAM ON, KID!”
So dream on, kid.
Yes, dream on. Stay hungry, Stay creative.
Don’t settle for anything less because you are the ones who turn their black & white world to colorful.
You are the ones who give them something to chew on. You give them hope.
You are a rhythm, the colors, the shapes, the imagination.
They are a copy of a copy of a copy.
But you are original. You are an innovation, an inspiration, a sensation. You are all an idea.
And ideas don’t die.
So next time they tell you to dream on..
YOU. DREAM. ON.
The Best kind of people are the ones that come into your life, and make you see the sun where you once saw the clouds. The people who believe in you so much that you start to believe in you. The people who love you, for simply being you. The once in the lifetime kind of people.
Bilita Mpash is a word in Buntu which means: An amazing, pleasant dream and not just good dream. It’s the opposite of the worst nightmare.
I’ve always lived in two worlds: the reality, that is, my life or in other words the worst nightmare and Bilita Mpash.
You know who’s given me that beautiful life?/ A new reason to stay alive, stay passionate and happy? My best friend.
The word “Best Friend” is so overused that it has lost its real meaning. But not for us. Call him my best friend or call him my boyfriend, it doesn’t really matter because he’s played all those roles. He’s quiet and doesn’t know what to say most of the time but his actions spoke to me. And that’s much better than all those people out there who just know what to “say” and not what to “do.”
He would never tell me what’s wrong with him. Never ever. But would always stay concerned about what’s going on with me. Jeez, I mean..are you some kind of angel?
We don’t even know what’s it called, the thing that we have..but whatever it is, a mixture of true friendship and love..the best experience one could ever have. I may have a thousands of crushes but in the end it’s only him whom I love.
I know it’s nothing..
I know we are nothing.
I know that there’s really….nothing.
But I just want to say that all of these nothings have meant more to me than so many “Somethings.”
Happy Birthday to the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Happy Birthday to the person who’s given me my own Bilita Mpash.
Happy Birthday to the person who’s given me my own little infinity and I can’t tell him how thankful I am for that.
“Even the best fall down sometimes,
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme.
Out of the doubt that crossed my mind,
I somehow find you and I…collide.”
Everything about him is so fucking beautiful. Happy Birthday to him, again.
(Please listen to this: https://soundcloud.com/apyarmy/06-heres-to-you-not-the-middle)
“..’cause it’s too fragile and if you don’t feel the same way, I’m screwed.” I laughed.
“Those three words, are said too much, they’re not enough.” She sang.
“So…I do love you. See, not three words.” I confessed.
She just looked at me with the most stunning eyes on the face of the earth. Sun shining on her gorgeous face, turning her eyes from hazel to golden. That look of hers…just kills me.
“Babe, you look magestic. Maybe because I’m high or maybe because you actually are. Nahhh, you actually are. You’re magestic.” I said, stroking her soft hair.
“Best thing anyone’s ever called me, you know?” She blushed.
“Then they’re blind.” I replied.
Photo via flikr.com
You are the moment between daylight and darkness. You are the pauses in my sentence. You are the lump in my throat that makes it hard for me to speak. You are the ashes of cigarette, burned out of my brain. You are the kohl in my eyes, the fragrance of my flowers. You are the wind that untangles my hair, ever so gently. You are the secret of my 4 a.m smile. You are the twinkle in my eye, a kiss on the neck. You are a sensation. You are something I don’t have, yet I’m afraid to lose.
He sighed. Looked at me deep in the eye, making me feel nervous, and said, “I know what you’re going through. Trust me, I understand. But…”
“No, you don’t!” I interrupted. “Have you ever been so ashamed of yourself that you try to be someone else? And..and..while doing that, you forget yourself…”
After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, “No..but you..”
“No. There you go! You don’t know what it’s like to be me. The whole world is in your feet but for people like me, it’s not like that. We have to fight to get what we want. Each second of our life is struggle. We all are in a constant battle. In a battle with enemies we’ve made up ourselves. But I am in a battle with the kind of enemy I can never defeat.” I said and took a deep breath.
“Whom?” He asked with a certain urgency.
“Myself.” I answered.
She was like that one bright star in the vast, empty, dark sky that alone made the sky worth watching. You just couldn’t compare any other stars to that one bright star. And now that she is gone, even when the moon appears, the sky looks empty and sad. The sky looks like it is aching to find that missing star it has just lost. The sky keeps on expanding to find that bright star and make it a part of itself again. The sky knows that nothing could fix it up ever again.
[[Dedicated to my grandmother who passed away two months ago.]]
Thoughts become things. 