Prayer for tonight

wishing on a start by a window

I have a very heavy heart today. Right now, as I sit by my window and the wind blows through my incredibly wet hair, I feel a burden weighing me down. What do I tell you? I have no words you haven’t heard before.


Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to kill that part of you, remove the part so heavy. What a sad move. Little by little you cut away the gangrenous parts and what remains at the end…well I dread to think about it. The hard, callous shell of a person you used to be. How sad, how cliche.

The moon that usually shines right though my window is not around today. It is all dark and I am lying awake, hoping the wind would blow the load away, before another part of me dies, and dies again. Hoping I wouldn’t have to age for one night, wouldn’t have to disintegrate for one day.

So I close my eyes, remembering myself and everyone as I know right now. And I pray, with eyes tightly shut , that tomorrow as the sun shines onto me, I remain the same as I am today.


“It was not so much that he was shut out, but that she was trapped inside”

phone in bus

SO my friend sends me sends me an audio message this morning about how de-sensitized he thinks he has become for a period of time, how disconnected from everything and distant from everyone. I listen to the message, my upper lip curls and look around for a while.

I don’t remember the last time I felt connected to anyone, by anyone I mean ANYone. Now that I think about it, the last person I felt really in tune with was my sister and it has been a long while since she has gone. I don’t remember sharing a really worthwhile conversation for a long time, I don’t remember being absolutely happy or being utterly sad. A few weeks earlier my cousin said I really was dead inside. I haven’t found a book to die for in months. Haven’t had the stomach to watch an entire movie in one setting for over a year. The really, really weird psychologist I worked with for my internship tried shooting all kinds of darts in my direction, calling me an introvert, saying I never shared anything personal with the group the entire time blah blah blah and right now as the only friends I have in my college leave me to go out, I so wish I at least felt bad at not being included, or that the way I and Bubbly have drifted apart would affect me a little, or that sometimes it would give me a sting thinking how absolutely shrunken has my world become and that maybe I would breakdown thinking my mom would die any day now… but no. I feel nothing.
So what do I tell him?

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost;

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king

Oh we all have that mopey part in us at one or more point in our life questioning our existence and belonging and blah blah blah blah blah. It’s really neat, I wish my cousin had the same quest in him, that kid just ate all my french fries without so much as a how-do-you-do and questioned me for 15 minutes about the composition and mechanism of production of fart.

So I question myself. Where are my roots? I was born somewhere else, bred somewhere else, studied at one place and then the other, my house is in another area I live somewhere else and then college started and off I flew. Exciting, no?

Now what?

So I choose to study and work in another country now. Scary, right? So that is my quest now. Whether I lose or get there is another story. So from here on-wards, this is what this blog is about, because that is what my life is gonna be about.

Having a purpose to live is a neat thing. And I have missed it


Flying dog, Happy


(Title and Stanza:  J.R.R. Tolkien The Fellowship of the Ring )

There are too many books I haven’t read, too many places I haven’t seen, too many memories I haven’t kept long enough

purple pink smoke

I was brushing my teeth the other day, looking in that foggy, droplet-stained mirror so early in the morning when the pictures started to move in my head so thick and fast. Childhood. I don’t care about that era, just like I don’t care about the teens that passed. I don’t even remember being a child. I have flushed away those memories so perfectly. I do that, I can erase an entire era from my brain if it has so much as one painful event. But I have never been fortunate to have one bad event, one is always chasing the other. I don’t think anyone ever is. I may remember the event, but everything else just melts away. And soon the memory itself fades. Taking every feeling, but numbness, away.

I suddenly saw my dad in a ward sitting right next to me. Wearing his glasses, reading the back of this new medication doctor had perscribed. Mom was back home, dad never brought her because she freaked out seeing me all hooked up to wires. I saw him carrying me around and getting me over to have my height and weight checked, all the while helping me hold the oxygen mask. Somehow I cannot remember the conversation. I don’t remember one conversation with my parents in my childhood. Or with anyone, as a matter of fact. No words or sentences, just silent pictures that move sometimes. I do remember once in a hospital I had to have stitches on my arm due to an injury and I screamed on top of my voice My Father will kill you if you try to hurt me. He’s in army. He has a gun

(He’s never had a gun, at that time I did not know that he was an army doctor. I just knew he wore the uniform. Kids can be so dumb)

And I saw him telling me I was like seven sons to him. And telling me it will all be over soon. I can’t remember how he said it. I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear his voice. And I so remembered the gray walls of those wards and the chemical smell of the masks I breathed through, and those green inhalers and the box of Pringles I used to get every time we came from the hospital.

And I can see my mum waiting, wide eyed, when we returned. I don’t remember what dad said and what she replied. I can see their lips moving, but I don’t hear their voice

So I just rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face and popped a pill before the pain in my arm would shoot up. It hasn’t hurt in months now but the anticipation is a trigger itself. Some memories just become demons and never stop chasing, some pasts are so deeply rooted in the present that to erase them is to melt away…dissolve and vanish.

I am not too worried about it

cleaning foggy mirror

(Title: Quote by Irwin Shaw)

30th November (III)

I like testing people. I do it all the time. Everyday. Every other moment. Sometimes its obvious. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes I get them to fail, no matter what. My test, My rules. It’s a crazy world up in my head.

Why ramble on into a huge story of what happened or what didn’t? It was such a long while ago. It was a good day, I was born. Dad Mom Sis were happy. They still are. I too am a lot happier. Crap goes on, I deal with it, Crap comes back, I hit it. People get crap in them, I get a blow. First I used to help them out of it.. now I pretty much shove it in their faces and leave.

Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me B-)

Happy birthay to me

30th November (II)

Aw nuts =D I gotta write this at sometime and it has been days. Well. Yes. Birthday hit on 30th November, my second day back college. Exactly the way it happened last year. Blah It was the worst birthday ever. I am not going into the details but yeah, almost every one of my friends didn’t remember. Those who did, didn’t bother. The building wifi was down so even Facebook couldn’t help this time. I have never been the birthday party person, although I am like the best party planner you can have. It’s only Dad who can make my birthday worth something. And well, he’s away. It’s..kind of my fault. When you spin a cocoon around you, expecting is worthless. This was the first birthday I actually was looking forward to, to test all the friendships I had made and the things I had done. And it all got smashed onto my face. My best dress got ripped, I lost a book… I don’t even wanna get into the story of me in the bus and all that time I was in the lecture theatre. Let’s move on. Come on Well, at night while scribbling on my journal I wrote like a 100-year-old lady. Telling myself that it’s about time we move on from the childish rituals. On my 17th birthday all my family and kids came together and we had such a big blast and I was uncomfortable the whole time and now when everyone forgot I sat in one corner of the bus taking deep breaths. Oh we humans can never be satisfied. But like I said before, being alone in something different and to be deliberately left out is a whole new thing. Knowing you have a friend nearby but still you will have to face the crowd But then. One person I am not even a bit close, not a bit, nothing more than a happy-go-lucky friend gave a surprise about two days later. Said she was sorry about forgetting the day and she and Bubbly (my friend and room-mate) brought a cake and she herself made a big bowl of pasta for me and they had all sorts of balloons (as if I am like a two-year old =D, but you get the gesture, and it was cute) and… it was great. Really. Awesome.. My voice was stuck in my throat and suddenly I felt I was back in Sharjah and dad was decorating the room and Mom was cooking and my friends were filling in.. It was not the cake nor the balloons. Nor was it Bubbly screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY, nor was my dude Alfa eating pasta with a guilty face. Amidst all those feelings, amidst all that I know that I am going to be alone forever, It was that sitting together and that laughter that made me smile. That’s gonna be there in my heart forever. It was that song that was played five minutes before 30th November ended. It is all this that stops me from giving up altogether and fight for my faltering heartbeats.. because there are times for me, you know, when living just stops to matter.. happy-birthday-cake

Good old Stephanie

You guys remember Stephanie? My lovely old neighbor… I am sitting in her brand new home and brand new elite class bedroom and she is pouring herself in me.. all the good old stuff.. her new friends and everything.. I really miss her.. Today I miss everything

And I am not going to pretend I am happy. Last few days I have been doing that. Literally.. you know… trying to keep my nose in my studies.. Ignoring the pains in my arm that well.. are getting worse day by day… I dunno what’s happening I don’t care..

I know it is of no use to post this rattle in-front of faceless strangers, I am perfectly capable of living my life on my own.. without..people. You know.. My life is such a mathematical formula.. a stupid equation.. I have known this thing for so long, I just don’t know why but there are always a fixed number of people who can be closer to me, I try to tamper with that number.. something happens. Something always happens..

Maybe none of this is real.. Yeah.. nothing I say will make any difference.

I am going to have pizza now. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.

Never did I give up on fate like this

“There is a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.”

Before you know things change, before you understand it your whole outlook changes. Let it be times, let it be the tides. But words and situations sink in and suddenly you laugh less, you talk less. You start eating slowly. You start smiling less. Your eyes don’t have that shine anymore. Your words don’t have that immaturity to them. You start giving people less chances to know you. Or you stop giving them chances at all.

You just..start walking alone

Title: Quote by  Tennessee Williams

“Why trying so hard to fit in, when you’re born to stand out”

Well. Mom’s not home today. She had to go somewhere and I am stuck alone. Never mind..never mind

So I am sitting in the room, with books all around me, begging me to open them. If you are quiet you can almost hear their tiny pleas. I am kind of lying in the sofa, with pins trying to prevent hair from coming in my eyes; Yes, I had a new haircut

You know something about me? Change is very difficult for me. Harder than you can imagine. I technically have been having the same haircut since grade 7… I changed it in grade 12 for a short while but then backslide to the older. The cut is still the same but is so short and croppy that it will be almost a week after I stop whining about it

It’s the same with everything. It takes too long and much hard work to adjust to something new. And with friends it takes months, for really good friends…years. And then when it snaps up so takes superhuman strength to go on. One piece falling out of my life changes so much. Everything starts to seem Like with the new haircut I feel as if the world is suddenly a much annoying place to live in right now

But then, months and years will pass.. and I will gain new perceptions about life and people. My sister once said that Change is the only permanent thing in nature… But I don’t know.. once I get comfortable with goes on for a long time, for example I have the same ringtone for over a year and believe me I have no intentions of getting rid of it in foreseeable future….

I am writing because there is something wrong in the air today… and there is nobody who understands.. but hell I was born to be different and I love that way

Two weeks approx. and I go back to college.

I don’t know but the more I hate change the more turns does my life take. Well, I don’t know whether it is the road we choose that makes much difference.. or is just the soul the walks upon it

Think about it

Ciao ciao =)

Title: Quote by James Oliver

Everyday.. every moment

Hey… Hello again. What am I doing? Sitting in the computer lab because I finished with my disaster of a viva early and I am just so bored

So… wassup with me now a days? Nobody bothers to know what’s going on with you. We are too sickly selfish for that =P But my blog my space my thoughts.. Yeah

I am just… simply the same. I have a new bunch of room mates now.. and frankly speaking I am just…okay… I am trying to work over my various ‘instabilities’ and am trying to understand every soul I know. Just tweaking their psychology. Trying to read their aura.. jeez I can never see auras… Real or not real I just so wanna know what colours people possess..

I have always been a sort of..away and separate person. Just like my sister who would never have her friend sit with another classmate because she never wanted to lose even a part of her. But that was a great friendship. I used to envy her friend. I love her. She was great. My Baji was one bright light that made me see so much. Then that light went out. And I hate it now.

You know what.. the right time to judge someone is when they don’t have to depend on you. When they are not alone. When they have a crowd who loves them yet they look back, tug your arm and yank you out in the party. Because nobody else matters as you do. That is when you know that, yes, the person…cares. When I have you and all you have is me… it’s just survival. Nothing more nothing less. If we stand back and cherish all the greater things that happened, many more smiles will come. And I need happiness to spread. I need that energy, but pure and innocent. Like running behind the clothes that tend to fly away from the line in strong wind. That feeling of running to bring a friend under the umbrella because oh, it’s raining

The thing about hearts is, that they change. But change is a part of life. Maybe heart needs that

But why doesn’t mine…