I tell myself it’s okay
It’s okay to lose a friend I thought I’ll explore the world with
It’s okay not to be loved back
It’s okay not to feel anything sometimes
It’s okay to feel a little too much at times
It’s okay to cry myself to sleep at nights
It’s okay to wake up feeling numb most mornings
And It’s okay not to be okay all the time
A day shall rise tomorrow
The same sun yet a new day
A day if not of joy, that of less pain probably
A day of hope which is currently lost
A day of smiles even if they’re broken
A day of gaining even if I have to lose most of it afterwards
A day of less agony
A day less like a night
A day more like a day.
I’m in my bed again
My head rests against the pillow
Another tear breaks from my eye
But I’m not flinched
For all I know
I ask my heart
Does it hurt?
Giving your everything to someone
And being told
You don’t know how to love?
I ask my hands
Don’t you feel numb
Being bare and empty
And being asked if you ever really did have the heart to give anything at all?
And then I turn to my soul and ask
Do you feel mislaid
Belonging somewhere else
But being trapped in my trifling body?
And to my surprise
My soul doesn’t respond
But it doesn’t remain quiet too
Y’know how that works?
For When I look closely
It isn’t even with me
Scared and overwhelmed of my miseries
My soul has left me for good
No wonder I’m numb
No wonder I’m unbothered
Another tear breaks from my eye
And I hope
This will be the last one tonight
Tear after tear
Yet I hope against hope.
I wanted to write something for the people who lost their lives in Bhawalpur and Parachinar incidents recently but I knew no words could do justice to their misery so instead there’s a piece for all those individuals who feel broken at these unfortunate incidents. It’s Chand Raat but the thought of their agony takes over my excitement for Eid everytime I think about ‘celebrating’. May the deceased souls rest in eternal peace and may their families be blessed with Sabr-e-jameel. Ameen. Don’t forget to send a prayer their way In sha Allah and Jazak Allah khayran.
To the little child who feels everything a little too much. Who sobs silently at their apathy and gets frustrated for being helpless. The one who feels sorry to be so empathetic and sympathetic at the same time and who’s still finding out the meaning and purpose of life amidst all the craziness:
O child of mine,
What they say is true,
Indeed the world never stops
Even if your muscles don’t contract anymore
Or you get one of those convulsive tetanic movements too often
And your bones stop pressing against your skin
And your nerves no longer help you
While your hormones conspire against you
And your heart becomes obsolete
The blood in your veins agglutinates
Even if your whole life does
The world goes on,
Just like it’s styled to
But hey my child,
Don’t you worry
For nothing will stop for you too
Until that one piece of flesh
Resting inside your chest
Keeps on doing it’s job;
Pumping blood to your organs
Infusing life within your lifeless body.
Your world will go on too
Just like their world goes on;
Unhindered and untwined.
Tired of this world
And the people who dwell here
Cladded in embellished silk
Chattering and laughing in their lofty mansions.
I’m tired of this world
And its ugliness
No, not the one you see in slums
But the kind you only see
Behind their closed gold doors
And royal gardens
And sick mentality
And punk social sertup.
I’m tired of carrying the weight
Of merely being a human
It’s so nerve wracking
It’s so stressful
And helpess too
When I see a child
Across the road
Begging for money
A wretched sight indeed
His obnoxious presence
Makes them frown
They say his vile odour
Contaminates the air
That child I can see
Is deprived of love, food and decent clothes
His torn shoes
Give me goosebumps
But I must not go near a ‘thing’
So dirty and scarred
I must keep my distance
So the ugliness keeps its distance from me
That’s what they say
So I take their word
I hand him a 10 rupee note
As if he can buy
A whole meal with that
Shaking the thoughts I go on,
Look out the window again
Only to see
Yet another one,
More of them,
So many children
And drug addicts
And then I see myself
If I am really different from them
I know I’m not
I’m torn like them
The only difference is
Their brokenness is visible
Mine, I keep it hidden
I must keep it this way
So that they never know
So that no one can ever know
How convergent we all fundamentally are
Yet we fake as if
We all can never be equal
Drunk on the ideas
Of superiority and pretentiousness
A pity indeed
A heart-breaking spectacle
For all I know
I’m a human too
And I’m tired of it.
My eyes are heavy from the last night’s crying
But I must pretend I’m happy and definitely not trying
I’ve lost what I once owned with all my pride
Name, fame, peace and the gleeful ride
The nostalgia hits me up as I lay down to sleep
So I stay up and my fears chase me like a creep
They say I’m hopeless and so is my life
Let me do a trick please pass me the knife
But I should stay strong or atleast fake a bit
For the world despises the one who isn’t mentally fit
It’s time to get over my lil’ heartbreaks
C’mon people have dealt with greater time-shakes
They tell me to love what I have today
For tomorrow could always be a darker shade of gray
Came across this piece in my notepad app a.k.a the hub of my miscellaneous-unfinished-notes; it’ll probably remain like this forever. An excerpt from something which is equally unknown to me as it might be to anyone else.
Her back slid against the wall
With her Bare feet and naked soul
She sat on the freezing kitchen floor
With an urge to explore
Her brusies well secured
She is unknown to herself now
Her skin is not free of the old scars
But she has learned to hide them well
Her mind is boggled up
She is ever messed up
The coldness is searing onto her body
She seems but unflinched
Maybe because she’s numb
Or perhaps because,
Her soul is colder than the freezing kitchen floor!
What do I do?
Where do I go?
Whom should I consult?
Why do peeps insult?
Why am I lost?
How much did my soul cost?
What makes me so tired?
What was it that I desired?
Sigh sigh. But why sigh?
Gosh! Am I again high?
High on insomnia
Perhaps it’s hypersomnia
Darn, I followed my inner voice
I thought it was the only choice
And you, like always, I pushed away
Not long after you first said Hey!
Now there’s no hope, no ray
Maybe now I should pray
And then again dwell in despair
The damage I’ve caused is beyond repair
My life is like the dust on shelf
I’m again losing my torn self
To find it dead at the other end
To find it dead at the other end.