Dear You,
The happiest moments always pop into thin air, and fit so perfectly with every smile and the ringing laughter that follows that it makes me think that it is God and only God that can bring about such joy; it is inhuman and absolutely inhuman to manipulate an explosion of 'Happy Anniversary' wishes when somebody shouts that it is Midnight already, in a car that someone else has termed downright 'chaotic.'
I really want somebody to ask me how life is for me and then tell them that life is Loud. That my clicks on the camera are being wasted because everybody moves and everything happens so fast. That there are Three Little People in my life who never cease to use the word 'beautiful'. And that my sister bought me the packet of Hershey's that I was craving.
Last night I couldn't sleep, and I was wondering. I was wondering if feelings, like people, fade away. I was wondering if they fade to nothingness and join a multitude of dropped pens and pencils in that abyss of lost-and-never-found. Do they? Will I have a lot of things and people and feelings to write about in the coming years? I think I will. That's the good thing about things and people and feelings. Even when they give you nothing at all, they always give you something to write about.
I have been strange lately. Very strange. Sometime I feel invincible; I felt truly invincible when I sat cross legged on the cold shore and built a sand castle with the cold sand, facing the horizon and the deep, blue sea, while Colours danced in the sky as the Sun set. And then there are times when my head pounds with pain that is not remotely mine; there are times when I cry God-knows-who's tears for no reason at all; there are times when I am sad simply because I want to be sad. I am mad and I really don't mind.
And I've tried to keep my promises. I have tried to remember to stay true to my word. I have tried. So please believe me. Because I panicked when I lost the painting my niece made even though I told her I'd keep it. I know she has probably forgotten but I said I'd keep it. I said. And I didn't. I don't mean to be mean and I like to believe that most of the times people don't mean to be mean. It makes me think of Luna Lovegood. She said, "A circle has no beginning." Maybe Life did have a beginning, but after The Beginning, I don't think there was ever another beginning.
Baba is vaguely humming a tune and I am starting to not make sense more than usual. The silence is too loud right now and I feel like I am trespassing its boundaries with the sounds of my fingers hitting the keyboard. Karachi is never this silent. But Home is Home and I really miss my own washroom.
I've been reading 'The God Of Small Things' and it gave me the courage to capitalize Letters as I pleased. I feel like I've always wanted to do that. It is a good book to get lost in. And it reminds me of something that someone said somewhere, sometime (though I am sure that it wasn't to me and that I only overheard): We don't see things as they are; we see things as we are.
Thank you for listening.
Love,
Me.
The happiest moments always pop into thin air, and fit so perfectly with every smile and the ringing laughter that follows that it makes me think that it is God and only God that can bring about such joy; it is inhuman and absolutely inhuman to manipulate an explosion of 'Happy Anniversary' wishes when somebody shouts that it is Midnight already, in a car that someone else has termed downright 'chaotic.'
I really want somebody to ask me how life is for me and then tell them that life is Loud. That my clicks on the camera are being wasted because everybody moves and everything happens so fast. That there are Three Little People in my life who never cease to use the word 'beautiful'. And that my sister bought me the packet of Hershey's that I was craving.
Last night I couldn't sleep, and I was wondering. I was wondering if feelings, like people, fade away. I was wondering if they fade to nothingness and join a multitude of dropped pens and pencils in that abyss of lost-and-never-found. Do they? Will I have a lot of things and people and feelings to write about in the coming years? I think I will. That's the good thing about things and people and feelings. Even when they give you nothing at all, they always give you something to write about.
I have been strange lately. Very strange. Sometime I feel invincible; I felt truly invincible when I sat cross legged on the cold shore and built a sand castle with the cold sand, facing the horizon and the deep, blue sea, while Colours danced in the sky as the Sun set. And then there are times when my head pounds with pain that is not remotely mine; there are times when I cry God-knows-who's tears for no reason at all; there are times when I am sad simply because I want to be sad. I am mad and I really don't mind.
And I've tried to keep my promises. I have tried to remember to stay true to my word. I have tried. So please believe me. Because I panicked when I lost the painting my niece made even though I told her I'd keep it. I know she has probably forgotten but I said I'd keep it. I said. And I didn't. I don't mean to be mean and I like to believe that most of the times people don't mean to be mean. It makes me think of Luna Lovegood. She said, "A circle has no beginning." Maybe Life did have a beginning, but after The Beginning, I don't think there was ever another beginning.
Baba is vaguely humming a tune and I am starting to not make sense more than usual. The silence is too loud right now and I feel like I am trespassing its boundaries with the sounds of my fingers hitting the keyboard. Karachi is never this silent. But Home is Home and I really miss my own washroom.
I've been reading 'The God Of Small Things' and it gave me the courage to capitalize Letters as I pleased. I feel like I've always wanted to do that. It is a good book to get lost in. And it reminds me of something that someone said somewhere, sometime (though I am sure that it wasn't to me and that I only overheard): We don't see things as they are; we see things as we are.
Thank you for listening.
Love,
Me.
No comments:
Post a Comment