patronus

106 days now  its one of those days  i undress take off everything that keeps me going everything that helps me mask my self-esteem-shawl my confidence-cardigan my chirpy-socks smiling moisturizer coat of lies  warm lip balm . . . i take to all off one by one slowly I sit on the floor carpeted no i'll sit on the marbled floor i'll on footprints today as I suffer from decade-old faded footprints of others  no its not suffering  it is what the reality is  don't try and make it look like an exception! it's normal everything is normal i'll let the heater burn me  simultaneously  as the cold floor takes away all my warmth you cannot love me back to life the tiny door-to-life in the kitchen also vanished today I am so cold ill be dead any minute only if this damned heart stops beating  the clothes wont be hung  to be used later but  they'll be thrown in trash ill melt into nothingness today we don't  talk about it  but its there...

There are days when I progress 10 times more as a person than on a normal day. but what's a day normal day anyway. Its 5:34 am and I woke up from my alarm for the third time in my entire life. no, I am not exaggerating.  so today is a special day. Khair yesterday was the kind of day when you progress 10 times a day. When you make decisions or stay at places that are going to impact the upcoming days of your life, affect the way you think through, or might as well define you as a person. Days when holding onto your values is a more conscious process than a passive background business. Yesterday was that sorta day. not normal, not special just conscious. Some days I want to ghost my friends. all of them even the old ones, the ones I've taken my time to trust, and my go-to people for every problem. All of them. Because I feel like I am too much to handle or maybe I have given too much of myself to them and now I need to stay away from them for at least a week to sorta neutralize t...

  I always looked down on people who self-harmed. I couldn't help it but then I realized that I self-harm too. The only difference is that what they do is physical and what I do is psychological and emotional. I do stupid things when I'm hurt. Real-time stupid shit with consequence, things I'll have to face and regret later, like aftershocks of an earthquake or more like knocking on doors that should be left untouched. Detaching and degrading myself into the abyss of darkness until I can't see anything at all. Until I'm so tired that I can't do anything but sleep. A disturbing and exhausting sleep. I self harm too, you see. And you know what, the next time you hate someone or something, know that you will face them soon, either through the mirror or through your eyes. Life always has a way of proving us wrong. It's embarrassing because it's so repetitive.

 There are days when asked: what life is, I'd say it's the moments between the bigger and the important moments. Ok, I'll explain. So it's when you stand by the kitchen door waiting for the rolls to be crispy brown. It's not you eating them with chili garlic sauce, it's you waiting for them to be fried. Makes sense? It's the day your niece starts reading Harry Potter from your copy of Philosopher's Stone. It's the lazier days when you eat the leftover papaya with Ammii, just when it's about to rain. It's listening to Anuv Jain while walking around the campus in December. It's not the destination, it's the rasta you see. Days, when you'd describe life referencing some couplets by Faiz and Faraz. But "Some days are just fillers" You know how we always rush to the rooftops on days when the sky is in pretty colors or when the weather is so good but I was thinking what about the days that are so mundane that they sort of take...

 I traveled for years only to end up in this desert. Thirsty, cruel, uncertain, constantly shifting dunes. There is scorching heat, my insights are displaced, my entire existence disheveled. I try to walk or at least crawl but the sand keeps shifting, even after hours of labor I am where I landed. I struggle and shout on top of my voice to find someone who'd listen but there is nobody with the kind of ears and brains that could receive and interpret the voice that my cords are capable of producing. We are wrong. We are wrong. We can't exist together.  A truck passes by, adorned with art, some poetry about a rude and indifferent beloved, a couplet about the home that's far away. This reminds me my home is lost. So I give up on the effort of walking and start looking for my home instead. I can surprisingly walk now that I have given up on it, the sand is letting me walk but I can't find my home now. I don't even remember how it looks like which makes it almost impossi...

Books. October. Moon. socks. Prayer mats. Pasta. Mountains. Fairy meadows. Rain. Poetry. Purple. Winter evenings. Comfortable shoes. Songs with relatable lyrics. Jhumkay. Androon Lahore. Stars. Twilight. Sunsets. Beaches. Libraries. Kindness. Swings. Bachpan. Hot chocolate. Shams. Poems. Grey. Eid. Fairy lights. Silence. Orange juice. Grandparents. Plants. More books. Early Mornings. Surah Noor Ayat 32. Cooking. Orange skies. Faiz. Wooden doors. Strawberry and Banana shakes. Yellow. Art. Sukoon.  Summers. Closures. Hand Bruises. Bad Footwear. Paper cuts. Financial instability. Nausea. Controlling People. Commitments. Snapchat. Untidy kitchens. Helplessness.  Taurus. July. Channy ki daal. Virgos. Politics. Mysoginy. Expectations. Karaily. No socks. Mangoes. Gatherings. A lot of people. People. Other People. Jealousy. Anxiety. Autism. No windows. Mansehra. Missing Prayers. Waking up late. Ironing clothes. Big busy cities. Privilege. Heartbreak. Life. My life. 

POV: you go for eid shopping but end up spending the amount equal to a limelight shirt on an Emily Bronte classic. You come back home after a very exhausting day, not like a 9am to 5pm uni exhausting day but a real-life exhausting day. You change into comfy clothes. It's raining. Ammi makes pakory which are terribly spicy, so much so that abba has to eat them with yogurt but you eat them without yogurt anyway to make sure amma doesn't feel bad You remove the nail paint from your toes and sit cross-legged on the sofa to narrate the entire day's story to amma before writing some of it in a blog.  Life is good.