If Love Is Pain Then Darling, Let’s Hurt Tonight 

She holds my heart in her hands and we sit to talk. I need to feel warm and she needs to feel safe. We are quiet at the moment but stars speak. Her eyes glisten like emeralds as she flips and turns my heart in her hands carefully examining it. And I’m surprised how there isn’t even one moment of fear that crosses my mind that she might drop it. Because I know with surety she won’t.

I have never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about her. I am actually glad she has my heart in her hands because I fear it’s her touch that keeps it beating. Without her love, there will be just colourless voids and a heart that keeps forgetting to beat.

So we sat to talk. We should have talked. We could have talked. But we didn’t. Instead we just lay together staring into infinite space that looked nothing less than pure magic. I wanted her to tell me things, anything. Lot of things. Everything. Just hear her speak. But her eyes were too loud for me to hear anything else at that moment. So I stared at her while she stared at the stars.

I didn’t want us to be mere accident like something that just happens one day unexpectedly. I wanted us to be on purpose- that just has to be for a reason. I wanted to love her on purpose and not like an accident.

She was a calm whisper in a world that was too loud. And although she was a chaos herself, I knew she could calm the storm within me.

She broke her eye contact with the stars and looked at me. And all it took was flash of a second, for me to know; I’d be a fool to let her go. Because she needed me as much as I needed her. And together, we were going to heal and glue back together our broken pieces.

It has always been her and me.

All those empty cervixes inside us that echoed with scars that still bled and thunders that still ripped us apart from time to time. It has always been her and me. And we, together, were going to heal.

Hence, she holds my heart in her hands to keep it beating, while I hold her close so she can breathe easy. I’m never leaving her side nor she needs to fall because she’s already safe in my arms. She doesn’t need to break herself anymore to prove anything.

I’m sure now, it has always been; her and me. And there is no way I’d rather have it be.

(Daily post: Corner, magnetic, homage, rhyme, critical )

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To Be Loved Like A Poet Loves its Poem.

She will touch you with fingers so cold you will wonder why ice wasn’t named after her yet she will set your skin ablaze. She will look at you like art piece. Analyze every crease on your face when you laugh and every grimace when something displeases you.

She will look at you like a path that keeps unfolding and she’s treading blind. Oblivious of what’s to come but woefully expectant of what’s ahead. She will explore you. She will show you what’s its like to be loved as a poet loves its poem.
And believe me, she will love you like a poem.
She’s the type to turn you into poetry.

She will see into your eyes and imagine a thousand stars bursting; into dreams that are made up of all that you are, all that you were and all that you are suppose to be. She will consider you a galaxy with shooting stars and meteor showers.

You will tell her things and she will listen to you. And she will stare at you until you tell her how her gaze is so unnerving. But she’s only looking at you like words that are left unsaid because nobody has been courageous enough to write them down on paper yet. Because those are the words not everybody can imagine writing every day.

So she will love you like a poet but you will have to love her back like a poem; gently, kindly and courageously. For a broken heart might shoot ink into her veins but it will kill a part of her, that she will never be able to recover again.

People like her lose their pieces one by one until one day they find themselves empty. After all there is a reason, why poets die young.

(Daily post: Texture, Shimmer, Amble, )

I Am Alive

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I’m not dead.

Yes you heard that right. This is the real Zee speaking, in flesh and bone. I know I’ve been super MIA, complete radio-silence but that was need of the time. By now you all must be like “yeah yeah we’ve heard it all before.” I know I keep disappearing. Can I be forgiven?

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Please accept my apology

I’m not a efficient multi-tasker. I’ve a hard time focusing on more than few things at once. And I lose focus real soon. So it’s a neccissity I prioritize the most important tasks in hand which is my studies especially cuz it’s my last year (yes I’ll be graduating soon, all grown up and shit) and I really really needed to take care of myself (the success of which is debatable but you win some you lose some).

And in the meantime I have been left with some questionable choices. It isn’t that I regret certain things happening but I regret them happening in infinite loops, over and over again. I was naive enough to never take off my rose tinted glasses and see people for who they really were, to see reality for what it was. At this point I cannot say that I’m okay with the choices I made because I’m not. I want to call them mistakes but a mistake stops being a mistake if you keep making it, it becomes a choice sadly. And I wish I had made better choices. My failure to see reality pushed me deeper into this illusion that people can change. The fantasy in my head drove me into a constant cycle of hurt and pain. The bottom line is; If people show you their true colors, believe them the very first time around. Do not go flipping them around trying to find something that isn’t there. Because you will only end up wasting your time, energy and effort on someone who doesn’t deserve it.

At some instances I feel like nothing but a fool trusting some people and never questioning their sincerity with me, not even for a fleeting moment. It is quiet handy to be skeptical at times especially when it comes to issues of trust, a lesson I learned a little too late. But oh well, nobody said life was all rainbows and roses. Sometimes you have to swallow the bitter pill no matter how hard it is to get past your throat to cleanse the toxicity eating you alive from the inside.

As for personal health, as much as I wanted to improve it during this break, it only went downhill. It had a lot to do with my beyond hectic routine of traveling and not getting enough sleep and a little too much stress. I don’t know which was greater the mental strain or the physical one. For starters I lost 12lbs during the course of 3 weeks last month. Which was very alarming because as much as it is hard to believe, my weight has been absolute constant since 8th grade, which is like since past 10 years. Nothing made it increase or decrease. It only fluctuated 1 or 2lbs give or take, no matter what. But this drastic loss really set me back considering I was actually trying to gain weight. I didn’t even notice I had lost this much weight until I got so weak that I couldn’t even sit straight without support to my back and people started asking me if I was sick cuz I looked too frail and weak. Then it occurred to me to check my weight and there it was, 12lbs down. So I’m gonna try to gain weight during this semester break. Keeping my fingers crossed ! And don’t even get me started on my bad skin, UGH.

As for my writing journey, I have stopped writing for most part. At least I don’t write the same way I used to or as frequently. So I will probably not be posting a lot but I will remain active here. Catching up with ya’all nevertheless. I will however be posting on my blog’s official instagram account on the daily basis. So if you aren’t already following me on my account, please join me! We shall have a good time ( and there will be free marshmallows and a chocolate fountain waiting as a token of my appreciation so cmon cmon grab yourself a party hat and join in xD)

Here’s the link— https://www.instagram.com/lifeconfusions_zee/

That’s pretty much it from my side now, so Enough about me. TELL ME HOW YOU ALL ARE? Let’s have a chat in the comment section below. I wanna know how life’s been treating you?

Rise Up


2016:

It has been both the best and worst year. Worse because I hit the rock bottom in each and every sense of the way; personally, socially, academically, spiritually, religiously. Sure I’ve been damaged in too many ways. Sure I have had my bleak days. Bad days. Dark days. Darker days. Darkest days. In a way it has been an year of disappointments after disappointments.

But the best because i couldn’t have learned the things I learned any other way. Best because now I know there is no way but up from here. Best because I know now if I survived that, I can survive anything. Best because even through everything, at the end of the day I’m filled with so much gratitude that my heart is about to explode in utter submission to His expended benevolence. I cannot be anything but thankful. I’ve realised it’s in the process of losing that we gain. But most importantly I learned to notice the collateral beauty in absolute devastation.

Today my heart is swelled with gratitude. For all the things and all the people who have extended towards me so much kindness. For God, who has never left my side despite of countless times I’ve turned my back. Despite of the times where I shut everything down and away. None of it even matters anymore since here I am standing. I’ve wobbled and stammered, fell and shattered but Here I am. Living, breathing and struggling.

Today, I’m proud of myself for making through one hell of an year. And immensely thankful for what I have, especially few friends who have been there for me through all the shit. You know who you are.
___________________

This will be my last post for a little while. I’ve a lot on my plate right now that I need to focus on for coming year. I hope for all of you the bestest year ahead. I’ll come back soon. Thank you for always being here for me. I appreciate it more than words can ever describe❤️

(Daily post: Resilient , Hopeful, Retrospective )

Hurt Me 


He shoved her against the wall. Her back hitting the concrete with a loud thud. A painful breath escaped her lips as she felt the impact surge through her back and spine. It felt like her heart crashed against her chest wall and the only reason it didn’t leap out of the cavity was because her ribs didn’t let it. And it wasn’t just the physical impact of the shove that made her feel that way.

She fell to the ground in a trembling mess as he came running to pick her up.

Oh my God. Shit shit shit. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He babbled the words trying to lift her up. “I didn’t mean it.”

She didn’t have to see the bruises to know that they had already marked her shoulders as she whimpered in pain when he touched her.

Touch.

His touch.

A part of her despised it. But a part of her still warmed up to it. A part she needed to smother. Like the way his arms were smothering her as he took her in his embrace. The embrace that now felt more like gallows than home. His arms felt like thorns etching into her skin as she tried to recoil away from him but failed to do so.

I’m so so sorry.” He kept repeating the same words.

She couldn’t cry. The pain was searing through her body in violent frenzy, running through her veins and lungs looking for an escape somehow. Only to return back to her heart in vain. She didn’t say a word and he kept spitting some more meaningless apologies as they sat on the floor in air that reeked of heartbreak and hundred broken promises. And the only thing that was kind to them in those moments was night as it stood a silent witness to their downfall. There was nothing left between them but question marks about love, if there ever was. Even ‘nothing‘ felt like a lot more than what they two had left between them now.

(Daily post: Anticipation,  Maddening)

A Thousand Deaths


She was dying a thousand deaths and I couldn’t save her from the carnage taking place right in front of me. I could see her struggle to breathe with every gasp of air that felt as thick as molten lava slipping down her throat. And she had no other option but to chug it. Let it burn holes through her windpipe with every intake.

The pain though, was in her eyes. It was an avalanche and I could see her asphyxiate under it. There was a torrent of undiluted anguish- as crude and concentrated as venom. And I could see how with every thump of her heart beat, it was being pushed down her veins and into her arteries. Deeper, deeper, deeper. Much deeper than I could ever manage to reach.

I could do nothing but sit there and watch that pain gush out of her system like flood, as an outpouring flux engulfing me. If only she didn’t have to die a thousand deaths in front of me. If only our love wasn’t a tragedy. If only saving her was as easy as holding her hand at this very moment. If only, if only, if only.

If only she would lift up her head and see me looking at her. She would understand, how somethings are not meant to be fixed. Somethings are better left broken. Because sometimes, broken is beautiful and so is she.

_______________________

Side note: This post is dedicated to everyone who has ever suffered from loss. For anyone who has known grief. For anyone who knows what it’s like to lose someone you love. Whether the loss was physical in the form of death or an emotional/metaphorical loss. I see your pain and I know how it feels❤️

(Daily post: MissingNew Horizon)

Jaan-E-Maan

‘Girls like you’ your mother says
‘are going to be disappointed a lot.’
She’s chopping coriander so fast that her hand is a blur
and you’re 12 and you’re standing
like a tremble, grubby knees and tear stained cheeks,
an offering in front of her.

‘Why?’ Your voice is a quiet shake.
She puts the knife down and calls you ‘jaan’
she holds your face in her wet hands,
you don’t flinch because this
is what love looks like
she kisses your forehead like forgiveness
‘because you mean what you say,
you think other people are the same.’
She tells you that she spent four years
trying to learn their language
but people ask how you are
and walk away before you can tell them.
‘I’d rather be silent.’ She says.
‘At least being quiet is honest.’

You’ll come home seven years later
wearing your heart like a bruise
on the inside of your sleeve
‘mama,’ you’ll say, voice like a thunder crack
‘he said he loved me, and I believed him,
I shouldn’t have,
I think that he lied.’
She’ll be older then, but she’ll kiss you
just as tender, just as birdlike.
‘Is it my fault?’ You’ll ask.

She is half lioness, half woman. She is all roar.
‘Listen to me’ she calls you her soul again.
She says it in your language so you know
that she means it.
‘You are so infinitely tender,’ she takes the frown
of your face in her hands and holds it carefully

‘People will not always know what to do with that.
You can’t ever be sorry for the way you loved,
You can’t be sorry for who you loved.
Don’t ever let them bend you backwards
don’t let them make you hard or bitter.’
Her voice turns into a growl

‘You did not get this from me.
Somewhere inside of you there is rain.
Somewhere in your stomach,
something beautiful is growing
and it is infinite.
Don’t you let them try and take that from you,
you are open and you are a flood,
someday someone is going to want to die in you.’

   – “Jaan-E-Maan” by Azra Tabassum
(via 5000letters.tumblr.com)

(Jaan-E-Maan means “My Dear” in Persian and “Darling” in Urdu language.)

(Daily Post: Vanish, Sacred )

We Bleed (To Transform)

(Transmogrify)
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I don’t know what it is about blood. We claim it’s a bad thing yet we can’t stop bleeding. We let others wound us over and over again until gash is a foot deep into our soul. Sometimes we wound others and get wounded in the process.

We clutch tightly to barbed wires of emotional attachments and walk on the burning coals of expectations. And by the end of it when we fall on the ground profusely gushing and wounded to our core, we make promises to ourselves; never again. But as we all know, promises are made to be broken.

The wound is by now infected because you didn’t take care of it well. You didn’t suture it on time and you didn’t put the bandage when you should have. You just let it be; as a reminder of all the things you loved that ruined you.

We fall back onto bed made of thorns of disappointment, exhausted. And bleed some more. We bleed until we can’t. We ache until every muscle in our body refuses to ache anymore. We suffer until pain itself screams in pain. Until the infection has spread onto every small vein and down to our very bones. Until we find ourselves disintegrating- crumbling, decaying, withering.

But,
How else could we have become anew,
If we had not first become ashes?