Is it love.. Is it love... Issss it looove?

I'm scared about my feelings.
On one hand, I want to let them rip. On the other... I find it very, very important to be cautious.
What if hes not the one? What if when I see him I get no butterflies? What if theres a better deal at NCA? What if theres a better deal through the matchmaker?
What if my parents refuse and so do his? What if he realizes the definition of rebound and applies it to me? What if the burden of all that baggage finally burries me until I have no choice but to throw it back on him and flee?
I don't want to hurt anyone.
And I don't want to be a bad girl.
But I also want to close my eyes and fall. I would like that very much- and who would be a better candidate to fall with than my best friend?
Life's messed up mysteries.

Hey, B

Sometimes I think about all my dreams, expectations and thoughts. About life and about love. Then I have to give myself a huge mental slap.
Because you know what dear? Talk is all you're ever gonna get. When the going gets tough, the bullshiters get going.
Well, a hearty fuck off to them I suppose. But I want the pieces of my heart they stole back. I fucking want them back so rip them out from yours and fucking HAND IT OVER.
They're mine to keep. You lost them the moment you decided that you didnt care enough.
I know, I know.
I've brought it upon myself.
Doesnt make it any easier whatsoever though.
B? You know what? You were right. I will never find a guy like you and sometimes, I'm really not sure if thats a good thing, or a bad one.
But you're happy B, so good for you. The story of us is a lot like a tragedy but thats how all my stories go, I suppose.
Maybe I'm not " pure" enough eh? Not Angelic enough?
Well fuck that.
I am who I am.

Hi

Hi.
Can you talk to me, please? Can you tell me how much you miss me and how special I am? Let me know of all the little ways I give you butterflies and how much you love to see me smile?

What? No? You can't?
Whats that? Oh Ayesha? Yeah lets cry over her again. No, it's okay. I understand, yes, I get it. No, no I don't mind. Its perfectly fine. Go ahead and talk about how special she is. How she gives you butterflies. How you love to see her smile.
I'll just wait here until you're done.
Or until someone better comes along.

Because you see, you're leaving a whole lot space at the top, even when you could easily fill it all out.
Cause I know, you're gold.

So what we smoke weed.

Why can't things be easy for once?
I don't want to feel insecure and irritated. I don't want to be hurt and frustrated.
I want to laugh and smile. Feel mushy and warm and safe. I want to make castles in the sky and hear you tell me about how choosing to be with me has been incredibly easy.

Look. It's not that hard. If I'm willing to give you my all, the least you can do is return the favor, with some extra interest. Cause you know. We haram lyk dat.

Oh sweet, fucked up irony.

Stop it.
Just- stop.

Stop acting so selfish. So indifferent.
Stop behaving like you don't know me, like we've just met, like you think I'm stupid and uncaring and insensitive.
You know very well, that all those things are exactly what I am not.
I laugh to cheer you up, not to bring you down.
I joke to hear you smile, not for that horrible frown.
We're not even in yet, and you're pulling out.
I keep trying to stay afloat, but dude, my ship is going to drown.
Sooner than later, if you're not careful.
You say, don't leave, yet you're pushing hard.
What am I supposed to do? I can't lose all my self respect one more time. I can't.
In life you know whats the one thing I've learnt? No one needs me, and I need you all.
All of you were mad, and all of you I brought back.
I don't regret it, because I love you all. But sometimes, like right now? I think about it, and I feel sad.

I'm so torn and so confused.
I've liked you for a long time. Two years is not two days. It's two years.
I've been your friend in all that time, and I've grown to care for you. Really care for you.
I've told you in all the ways that I can.
What more can I do?
I have feelings too.

I wish I had you to whatsapp all the bullshit of you in screenshots- to you.
I know what you would say. You'd tell me you were being a dick and that I should forget about losers who don't get me.
Oh sweet, fucked up irony.

I think a change, a change will do you good.

I'm in. I'm. IN.
NCA, bitches.
Fuck yeah.

But you know, inshAllah. Lol.

He is so cute. So freakin' adorable. And romantic. But you know. Can't fall again.
Too dangerous- way, way too dangerous.
And over here, there is so much potential, its craaaaaaaaaaazy.
WHY OH WHY.
But I asked- actually, prayed for it, so I dunno- why am I so surprised?
It's all from God, right?

Right?
Hello? Blog?
Answer me.

Men

You're a liar. All of you are. All of you are also power hungry. Power hungry liars with brute strength.
The mix gets more poisonous as more of your unique qualities are listed.
Bad temperred. Selfish. Unreasonable. Emotionally unstable. Mentally unstable.
Stop trying to act as if you're different. You're really not.
Each one of you, you're the same.
Each one of you makes me miserable.
Theres the door.
Get the fuck out.

Its still me, you little bitch.

Heart break sucks.
Friends are hardly true, no matter how much of your insides you scoop out for them.
Those are the two realities of life.

More to come when other tragedies strike.

My Birthday

Its my twentieth on Monday.
The big 2-0 where I'm no longer a freakin' teen. I can't use that excuse anymore, but you bet I'm totally gonna try.
I'm at a point in my life where I'm nothing. I don't have a proper job, I don't have university, I really hate my parents, and I can count all my friends on one hand.
Its sad and depressing, and the worst thing is- I can see change, I just can't fucking get to it.

So this is what I'm going to do, I'm going to pretend some more and make a list.
I'm one hundred percent sure Monday will be a horrible, horrible day of wallowing in self pity for me so I will make a list and throw it out to the internet.
Because what if my Fairy Godmother follows this blog? Privately of course.
I need to help her out.

For my birthday-

• I want a college education, and I want it my way. I want to go abroad, outside of this horrid country, and if not that then I want to go to NCA or BNU to study Graphic Designing.
• I want a room of my own. Just a space which is mine. Mine and not yours, or hers, or theirs, or shared- Just mine. Where I can sit and think, dance and sing, write and draw and not give a flying fuck to you or them or her or him..
• I want friends, and lots of them. The kind that can be called close. The kind that get you and are genuine and cool and have brilliant personalities and no restraints.
• I want true love.
• I want a huge birthday party filled with everyone I know- all there for me. I want to feel special.
• I want that cake. You know the one. The kind of cake that costs an arm and a leg and maybe an eye. The sort that's the definition of toothache, with bright colors, personal touches and a large dose of yummy.
• I want a laptop, gift vouchers to bookshops and body shop gift hampers.
• I want dinner and ice cream at a shit expensive place.

That's all I want for my birthday this year. 

We'll get through the rest of my list next year.

Its Still Me. Sad and Stupid.

I still remember the day when you told me you wanted to spend eternity with me- for the very first time. My innocent heart sped up ten fold at the impossibilty, and the hope that tinged it.
I was so happy that you wanted that, and were actually voicing it out loud. I was so scared that it was never going to happen.
My cheeks warmed at your honeyed words and my secret smile refused to leave hours after that phone call.
But as usual, I was right and you were wrong.
Only this time, I wish I were wrong. I wish I wish I wish.
I miss you. And as crazy and out right retarded as it sounds, my heart still loves you. Your sense of humor. Your soft brown eyes. Your ability to annoy the hell out of me. Your easy grin and that adorable curly hair.
Why must I be so sad and so stupid.

Last Christmas.

I miss you a ton. And even after 7 months, the fact that you left me is difficult to wrap my head around.
It hurts when you dominate my dreams, and how its so easy to talk to you. You'll never know the effect you had. It was love honey, the purest, messy kind. Behind every word was affection and behind every critisism was fear, laced with honesty.
Does that make sense? Probably not. But it was all I ever knew.
Your shoes are so big, I'm afraid they'll never be filled. I wish they didnt have to be and you still wore them.

best friend

Thank you sweet pea, for believing in me, when I didn't believe in myself. I love you because you're legit pretty, actually beautiful- from the outside, duh, but your inside- diamonds and honey and dragons and fire and clouds and sugar and spice and everything nice.

shutup, you make no sense

Okay so, after reading a few more of you, I've realized that there is a line.
A fine, thin, delicate line between being just utter pretentious crap and being true, honest and feel-y.
So heres to staying on the right side.
If I wander off into no man's or- loser man's land, just let me know in the comments please.

bLack rOsEs

I want to write. And I want to write well. And I see so many people write and I think- I can do this. Yeah- dude, I can totally do this.
But really, can I?
I suppose in my heart of hearts, I know that they were all misguided.
I really am average.
Can I learn to be great? I want to be great. But really, can greatness be learnt?
That is, ze question.
You can change your personality, the very core of what it means to be you.
But how do I change naturally? By having an adventure.
But there are no adventures in my state.
There is just mild depression, suicidal thoughts and the heavy black fear of being judged and stabbed.

forever is over

Me and you, we can fit, if only you'd stop growing.
Because my puzzle piece remains uniform while yours is stretching.
Its healthy to grow I suppose, but what about our picturesque picture?
Remember the time we stole the whole day? And nobody knows it, we took it away.
You know there's nothing you could say, that would embarrass me.
I'll never forget how it feels to be young.
If you're reading this, hi. Don't talk to me about it.
I want to own the night again.

for you, my love.

I want to sit in the huge grounds of carefree and co. and talk with you about nothing and everything. We can point at the good looking dudes sitting across from us and daydream, or we can stare up at the clouds rolling by and play the guessing game.
We can hold hands, and laugh till our stomachs hurt and then we can cry about the sadness. But just for a minute. Because we have so much to do and so much to love.
You can braid my hair while I give you my opinions, even though you know what I'm going to say, and even though I don't really care for braids. And then you can point out why it wont work and I can roll my eyes.
We can sing high and sing low and make videos about our awkwardness all day long.
And then we can dream about being together, being free.

Bananas

The winds of change are blowing, sluggishly.
Or maybe its me that's so horribly sluggish.

I'm fine with staying in bed- the whole day. And people are worried.
I don't get it.
But I sort of do.
Okay.

Heres a collection of sad post break up shit that I've written in the past few months.

He promised.
He lied.

She laughed.
She cried.

He played.
With her.

She accepted,
And hurt.




xxx






Sometimes, like right now, they're sitting and talking and laughing.
I laugh along- but then a memory, small but powerful wriggles in and intense sadness threatens to drown.
I miss laughing with you, at you, at me, together.




xxx




I brush away my tears and pick up the knife lying
beside me.
The blade is sharp and could easily slice through
flesh. 
I use it to slice a cucumber. 
The irony of mutilating a phallic symbol is not lost on me, nope.
The perfectly round circles are a bright green colour. 
I place two on either eye. They will help with the swelling, and ease away the bloodshot redness.
 Lying back on the soft leather couch, I once and for all make up my mind. 
No more.
No more crying. 
No more aching. 
No more hurt.
 No more hoping or yearning or rejection. 
No more heartache and no more painful devastation. 
There shall be none of that, anymore. 
No more.




xxx




There are no tears.
There haven't been for a ling time now.
There is a desert and it is barren, like all Good Deserts are.




xxx




Me.

Stupid

Why am I the weakest link?
Why do I speak without thinking and always speak my mind?
They were all true but I believed in myself. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to survive.
But now? As you chisel away at my skin, the half healed wounds are exposed once again and I fear they will never close up.

How many knives will I dig out from my back?
I know why this happens.
I'm too stupid to stop it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You laugh at me, all of you.
I will prove you wrong, damn it.
I will, I will, I will.

Maybe I won't seeing as I'm so fucking stupid.

But maybe I will.

I will, I will, I will.

I'll be waiting for your heart.

You're doing our thing.
With her.

The thought of you and her is bearable. But when I think of you loving her more than me, or being as comfortable with her as you were with me?
I die a little inside.

You didn't reply to my message.
Why?
'I was talking to her.'

As you sleep I curse my slow reflexes. I await your reply to my stupid, stupid question.
'So you guys talk on the phone now?'

Could I be more transparent?

But you're stupid. You might not understand.

But obviously, you most probably will.

I thought I was done. Or at least- almost there.
But I suppose it was just because of the false sense of security you unknowingly lowered me in.

I don't understand.
I just don't.
How could you?

I would do so much for you.
I loved you.
True love.

if pathetic had a name.

Failures: Bad grades, bad harkatain, bad body, bad smells, bad work ethic. Disappointment.

I thought I would always have him, like a tattoo. Oops. I thought wrong.

I'm sorry but, I've gotta be strong, I have to leave you behind.

But its easier said than done.

They say time heals. I was skeptical- but I'm not anymore. It still hurts, but its not this all consuming grief threatening to kill me.

Now its just this bad feeling in my stomach, a dull ache somewhere deep within me.

Hes with her now. He literally does not want to talk to me.

Hes a smoooooth criminal.

I love Glee. Its so bright and bubbly and fun. It has good music, and funny bits. Its nice.

Are you okay, Annie?

I DONT KNOW!

But, whatever.