I used to wonder what real happiness in the true sense of the word, really meant. I don't wonder anymore. Been there, done that. I wonder if it's true for everybody, or if it's just my warped sense of reality that causes me to believe that once one has been fortunate enough to have achieved a moment, an hour, a day, a month of true happiness (I have serious doubts that it could last longer than that), one lets go of the moment all too quickly. Happiness is not addictive, but misery sure is. There lies a certain comfort in being truly, utterly, miserable. If I may put it this way - one begins to develop a drug-like dependancy to that feeling of emptiness, loneliness... helplessness.
Just like a drug... not every kind can bring about the same reaction, nor live in the same timeframe. One can never really get the same 'high', or so to say, from the same feeling of misery twice. Atleast this one can't. I find myself never being able to make the feeling of misery last as long the next time the same kind comes around (as misery tends to do). So I experiment with my mind. My conscious, sub-conscious and unconscious mind. I find ways to see how far I can push myself... I can now achieve that surreal epitome of misery... that sublime point at which I feel like there is nothing there; no expectations, and absolutely no hope of ever coming out of that self-dug grave I continually dig deeper into for myself. Maybe I will reach a point where I have dug my grave of misery so deep that I can not come out of it. Maybe a night will come when I can not cry myself to sleep anymore; when I can't achieve my peak of misery... where I can not imagine associating being miserable with lost hope and mistreated, abused expectations. I suppose that would be the highest of all highs..... I suppose that would be the day when misery will depart and winter will shower me in all its chilly winds and icy rains.... I suppose that feeling of not being able to achieve even the lowest level of misery, not being able to make oneself hurt anymore, can be called cold. We will discover it sooner or later... sooner, rather than later in my case.
I can't wait (:
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Whatever...
I hadn't seen it coming. I could never have fathomed that you would drop so low as to poke me with the wand that held my soul. Those countless hours and days and nights and months and years I spent spilling my guts out, pouring the contents of my heart into your already-full-with-memories-of-her heart where they fell into your world like tears, insignificant to the overflowing pool they fell into - I was so foolish.
Words don't mean a thing at all and it really is true. To think that I dedicated so many worthless pieces of crappy writing to you, that I lost count of all the words I didn't even know I could write - and you, with the flick of a mere sentence, ruined me. I didn't know you had it in you.
Words don't mean a thing at all and it really is true. To think that I dedicated so many worthless pieces of crappy writing to you, that I lost count of all the words I didn't even know I could write - and you, with the flick of a mere sentence, ruined me. I didn't know you had it in you.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Febreeze
I haven't written in you for a really long time blogger, and I'm sorry. Boy, have I missed you!
Life has been a series of ups and downs lately. Being in a different country, not knowing what's going on and what all you left behind, not knowing what lies ahead of you, and not knowing how to cope with both can be the most difficult and confusing task in the world. Recent developments in my so-called life (or half-death) have left me feeling betrayed and unsure of what to expect. I know I don't deserve to dream. I also know I don't deserve to desire something that can never be mine, but it still hurts to see it about to belong to someone else. Does that make sense? I don't think it does. Lately, nothing makes sense. Okay, let's scratch the 'lately'. I think I say lately, lately, so it's not lately anymore... it's more like... all-the-time-ly.
How can you want two entirely diversely different, insanely opposite, utterly nonsensically impossible things at the very same time? I don't know if you can, but I know I sure do. And I also know that I have been the most focused, straight-thinking, crazily SANE person in the world all my life. And now I'm not. Or maybe I always was, and now I'm normal. I really don't know which way it applies, but nonetheless, I am at crossroads with what my life is offering me on one end (which is not so bad), and what I want to take from my life (which is just ooooh wow). I have my entire life waiting for me back in Pakistan and it's not like I've forgotten it or don't want to go back. I just want to stay here or go somewhere else and never look back again.
Only once in my life did I get to do what I really wanted to, with no boundaries or limitations or any form of guilt or regret or remorse for what could easily be classified as sin in the normal world. Only once in my life did I chance to meet a person who like me, was the most normal person in the world - who always stuck to the rules and made sure nobody got hurt. Yet, this normal person also became me in that instance and we together became two different people in one beautifully different world from the one we live in. Two people who lived their lives by the rules of others managed to do just the opposite.
I don't have the right to dream. But just for a moment in time, glazed in ice and freeze dried for eternity in the forever ticking clockwork of my mind - I caught a glimpse of heaven. You are my heaven and I will take you wherever I go. I might feel guilty for it for the rest of my life, but you belong here and no one can take you away.
Memories are like sugar-glazed cinnamon buns that finish up all too quickly, but leave that sweet stickiness on your fingers and in your mind for you to cherish and remember them for as long as you want to. Only, you can't lick them off or wash them away. Not even if you want to.
Life has been a series of ups and downs lately. Being in a different country, not knowing what's going on and what all you left behind, not knowing what lies ahead of you, and not knowing how to cope with both can be the most difficult and confusing task in the world. Recent developments in my so-called life (or half-death) have left me feeling betrayed and unsure of what to expect. I know I don't deserve to dream. I also know I don't deserve to desire something that can never be mine, but it still hurts to see it about to belong to someone else. Does that make sense? I don't think it does. Lately, nothing makes sense. Okay, let's scratch the 'lately'. I think I say lately, lately, so it's not lately anymore... it's more like... all-the-time-ly.
How can you want two entirely diversely different, insanely opposite, utterly nonsensically impossible things at the very same time? I don't know if you can, but I know I sure do. And I also know that I have been the most focused, straight-thinking, crazily SANE person in the world all my life. And now I'm not. Or maybe I always was, and now I'm normal. I really don't know which way it applies, but nonetheless, I am at crossroads with what my life is offering me on one end (which is not so bad), and what I want to take from my life (which is just ooooh wow). I have my entire life waiting for me back in Pakistan and it's not like I've forgotten it or don't want to go back. I just want to stay here or go somewhere else and never look back again.
Only once in my life did I get to do what I really wanted to, with no boundaries or limitations or any form of guilt or regret or remorse for what could easily be classified as sin in the normal world. Only once in my life did I chance to meet a person who like me, was the most normal person in the world - who always stuck to the rules and made sure nobody got hurt. Yet, this normal person also became me in that instance and we together became two different people in one beautifully different world from the one we live in. Two people who lived their lives by the rules of others managed to do just the opposite.
I don't have the right to dream. But just for a moment in time, glazed in ice and freeze dried for eternity in the forever ticking clockwork of my mind - I caught a glimpse of heaven. You are my heaven and I will take you wherever I go. I might feel guilty for it for the rest of my life, but you belong here and no one can take you away.
Memories are like sugar-glazed cinnamon buns that finish up all too quickly, but leave that sweet stickiness on your fingers and in your mind for you to cherish and remember them for as long as you want to. Only, you can't lick them off or wash them away. Not even if you want to.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Multiple Fate Syndrome
I.
The biggest, strongest, most adamantly-sticky-to-the-theory, believer in fate.
Why do I feel like there are a million things in store for me that are just 'meant to be', or at the very least (if I really narrow it down), two. Two situations, the mere existences of which should be mutually exclusive of one another... i.e. no overlapping.
Overlapping of two very diverse, yet horrifyingly similar situations, from which I can only choose one and neither is better than the other!
I wonder. Does this happen to everyone or am I the only one with this disease?
The biggest, strongest, most adamantly-sticky-to-the-theory, believer in fate.
Why do I feel like there are a million things in store for me that are just 'meant to be', or at the very least (if I really narrow it down), two. Two situations, the mere existences of which should be mutually exclusive of one another... i.e. no overlapping.
Overlapping of two very diverse, yet horrifyingly similar situations, from which I can only choose one and neither is better than the other!
I wonder. Does this happen to everyone or am I the only one with this disease?
A Secret Rendezvous
The Fray - How to Save a Life...
Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitternessA
nd I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Bloody Paper
Paper...
One picks me up, tears me into large, rough scraps and leaves me in a pile to wait for the wind, who obviously doesn't want me either, to blow my ragged pieces far and wide.
Another comes along and reads what is written on me... he finds me intriguing and tries to pick up the scraps of me, unable to trace a few that have hidden themselves amongst the surroundings. After a bit, he gets bored and tore my larger scraps into smaller bits with rough, burnt edges. He too leaves me to the wind, and she again dutifully scatters me far and wide.
I am a frequent visitor and she knows she hasn't seen the last of me.
Yet another comes along and gathers up my pieces - or what he is able to find of them. There are now all shapes and sizes in the pile he is able to compile. He too bores of me soon and tears me further, into tiny, irrepairable scraps of paper with random, illegible, fading bits of insight scrawled on a few.
This time though.. the wind is tired of me.
She collects all my parts; big, small and tiny, and hides me. She leaves me in a corner to fade and die with age as she knows I am now of no use.. or value... to anyone.
One picks me up, tears me into large, rough scraps and leaves me in a pile to wait for the wind, who obviously doesn't want me either, to blow my ragged pieces far and wide.
Another comes along and reads what is written on me... he finds me intriguing and tries to pick up the scraps of me, unable to trace a few that have hidden themselves amongst the surroundings. After a bit, he gets bored and tore my larger scraps into smaller bits with rough, burnt edges. He too leaves me to the wind, and she again dutifully scatters me far and wide.
I am a frequent visitor and she knows she hasn't seen the last of me.
Yet another comes along and gathers up my pieces - or what he is able to find of them. There are now all shapes and sizes in the pile he is able to compile. He too bores of me soon and tears me further, into tiny, irrepairable scraps of paper with random, illegible, fading bits of insight scrawled on a few.
This time though.. the wind is tired of me.
She collects all my parts; big, small and tiny, and hides me. She leaves me in a corner to fade and die with age as she knows I am now of no use.. or value... to anyone.
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