Wrong Places

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I wish to have loved you in another place. Maybe another continent where the sea could run through your veins and you wouldn’t have to worry about drowning. Maybe a place where the air is gentle on our skins and we do not fear it becoming a tornado. Maybe another land where we could have played with the constellations instead of mistaking a fallen star for a drone attack.
I wish to have loved you in another place, another time or another dimension.
All my life they told me to be wary of people who talk sweet but have poison lips. It’s a sacred body described in metaphors. They taught me to stay away from the ones who dare to paint their futures with blood stained hands because the likes of them are dangerous.
Men are dangerous.
Women are deadly.
I’ve been away far too long from those who wore their flaws like medals and declared war on their past to have the future that they painted.
I wish to have loved you in another place where my lips weren’t poison. We didn’t need metaphors to describe our love. I wish to have loved you in another place where the air swept through our pores and the tornadoes didn’t ruin us. A place where we could have played with the stars and your wish on the fallen one would come true. I wish to have loved you before I became one of them, another one from the lot of blood stained hands brewing poetry behind closed doors in an effort to taste freedom.
I have loved you in the wrong places but the time was always right.

It’s 2 am and I see no God

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“That is the thing”, the voices whisper, “pretend or give up” and there is an urge to reach out to someone at God fucking 2 a.m in the morning with the words, “Help me”. But, I don’t because anxiety screams, “why the fuck would someone be up at 2 a.m in the morning on a Sunday?”
Contemplating on ways I would like to ask for help without actually appearing weak. For you see, I’ve pretended to be strong for so long that these self imposed restrictions make it hard to reach out or break down.
It’s hard to ask for help when you’ve been on the other end. You’re the helper, not the helpee. You’re the anchor at the bottom of the ocean that does not let others drown. You save. You don’t ask to be saved.
The realization that I’m drowning comes in too late and there is no end in sight. How does one swim against or with the currents when they were made to sink?
But that is the thing, “you cannot drown at the bottom of the ocean” it whispers.
That is the dilemma. You’re going to suffocate but it won’t let you die. You’re going to be in the dark for ages but this won’t let you die.
You sit here at 2 a.m talking about drowning in a nicely lit room but you’re suffocating and the world outside doesn’t know.
The only way to deal with this is to make art out of your personal tragedy. Coping, is the most bravest word in the dictionary because it shows the determination of an individual to survive against all odds. It is a depiction of standing against the strong waters at the bottom of the ocean while every particle is willed to drown you.
Tomorrow is another day. Another day to ask yourself, what is tougher? Pretending to live or trying to die.

I’m drowning. I see no God down here. Is it too late to say, “Help! I think I won’t make it.”

Love in loveless

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I’ve always been against the notion of “hard” love.

A love that does more harm than good to your soul is not the sort of love you should strive for. Like a lot of things being in love sounds very poetic but living “a life with the love that you want” is an entirely different concept.

There is a moment when you need to decide that there is no place for a love that makes life hard.

A moment where you need to recognize that toxicity is not a synonym for liberation.

Love is a poetic concept but it should not make you dwell in riddles for long

The Heartbreaker Poem by Bianca Phipps (Poem#3)

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Nerdy Talks

The Heartbreaker Poem

by Bianca Phipps

One. Your father speaks of his youth with revelry; spills his life across the table like an overturned drink covering everything. Your mother, doesn’t speak. Any stories of her premarital life come from your father’s mouth. He speaks of how he tamed her, saved her from a life of reckless abandon; clipped her wings to keep her from flying too close to the sun, but Icarus would’ve just as soon drowned than burned, and the silence in your mother’s mouth is a salt water darkness. She does not speak up to defend herself.

Even now, years after their divorce your father’s voice can fill a room and your mother still makes space for it. When your mother teaches you not to be swallowed she is already sitting in the belly of the beast she once loved. You wonder if she has grown to love…

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Love and Misery

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Some people never lay a hand on you but still leave a bloody trail. We brush it under the name of “love” and smile. Who said love has to leave us bruised and crushed in misery? Love isn’t supposed to break us. Love is supposed to make us. And if you’re love is breaking you down, constantly, then it’s time to reconsider.

Native in a foreign land

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“I’m from Pakistan.”, I say and my gut suddenly starts to churn. I’m anxious about how they will react. So I search for signs that show their discomfort.
“Phaa-kiss-taan” someone pronounces. I’ve always hated how the lips come together like they’re breathless when they take the name of my homeland.
“Yes, Pakistan”, I nod.
I’m labelled even before I tell them that my country is not all bombs and barbarians.
This label I did not ask for.
My passport is green and my language originates from Arabic and Persian. I’m a mix of cultures but they define me with words that I abhor just like them.
“Isn’t that where they caught Bin Laden?” they ask and I nod.
I want to say, “aren’t you the ones who made Bin Laden?” but I nod and look at the floor. My heart bleeds red, just like the hispanic man who sits across from my table. But he’s afraid of the wall that Trump is going to build and I’m afraid that one of these days someone will jump my nephew and I won’t be able to do anything about it.
There is a lot I want to tell the world as I skip continents. Make way through paper planes and travel roads that lead nowhere.
“No, bombs and barbarians are not the synonyms to define me”
“I am the courage of a nation still standing even when the world said that it can’t stand a day on its own.”

Love in the 90’s

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When I was 8
A boy in my class gave me a book
Of rhymes
He said he loved me
And decided to give me something
That I liked
Poetry
 
Back then
I didn’t know much about love
Except for a word tossed around
To make people happy
So I told him to rhyme something with it
He didn’t
I said
I love you too
And it rhymed
 
You see I liked the way two words
Came
Together
Different but with the same sound
At the end
Sort of like this
I love you
I love you too
And it makes all the difference

The year of realizations

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2016 has ended. I’m so glad about it. This has been one of the toughest years, ever. I have two words “tough and tired”. In short I’ve grown up and let people go. I’ve made some new friends along the way. Holy shit, I’ll be 22 in a couple of months (time to put Taylor Swift’s 22 in the background).

Walking down the road I guess this year has taught me a lot in terms of people and managing my relationships. I  feel more grown up and a bit sensible. The year was lingered with  depression, less drugs, more drama and well a lot of passive aggressive emotions mixed with bipolar bouts. Not to mention this summer I got my heart broken just like in 2014.  I think I’m turning more into a mixture of my mum and dad when it comes to loving people. At one point, I don’t want to let go and the other time I can’t wait to run away. Remember, the summers are not lucky for your love trajectory. A part of me is glad that I went through all of it and emerged alive. Heck, there is a lot of fight in me.

School year went by  hectic. Just a lot of projects-Bano, bite as much as you can chew. Never forget this. You always take bigger bites and at a faster pace which sorta just fucks shit up more. Oye! I’m glad you quit that job. I hated it so much but financial security is a bitch once you start working. The new job seems very nice and not to mention it pays good as well. I still can’t manage my finances. Work on that. Be savvy this year with your finances. Friends won’t stick forever so please, fucking learn how to stay alone. I still haven’t finished Anna Karenina (damn you Tolstoy). Unfinished projects will be one of your biggest regrets if I don’t clean up my act. Learn to not push yourself at things that you don’t want to do. It isn’t an obligation to finish something that you started. But it is nice if you do. On a totally unrelated note, why do you understand the pain and frustration of cheating housewives? Like its still weird how you can connect with Anna and Lady Chaterly. Think about it. Is there a pattern to this?

Be responsible and when you know an argument is about to start, please back away. Do not snap at people. Be more polite this 2017. I realized that when you’re truly attached to someone then no matter how much they piss you off? Under half consciousness you’re going to call them out. (Hint: Appendix)

Learn to control your temper. Goddammit! I’m so glad you’re learning how to deal with the fear of you know what. Be strong at wherever it all takes you. Never lose your ground or put down your weapon. Bukowski is still relevant as ever. Books are amazing. Stop fearing what you don’t know and try embracing it as it comes. The thing about life is that it will break you as much as you allow it. The same goes for bitterness in life. It will only impact you as much as you allow it. At the end of the day, you’re in control of everything that happens to you except for natural disasters. Be prepared!

  • Don’t try stupid supplements.
  • Never ever be with someone out of pity or boredom (You know who you’re talking about)

Love? Hahah! Well, remember how 2015 seemed like the year you found love and had a happily ever after? Well fuck that. Summer has been lingered with heart break and rehab sessions. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the fact that you handled it all too well and emerged a bit stronger. Although I know how it fucked you up. Love isn’t meant to hurt you physically or mentally. Keep that in mind the next time you fall in love but I assume it would take a long while. When you miss someone just try going to sleep, read a book or heck! Watch something but do not text them. You haven’t been good with emotional commitments, anyway. I’m still not sure about the crazy rendezvous you have going on the side but I hope it turns out nice. That is the last thing you can expect out of something you’ve stirred in this direction. A lot of times you’re going to fall in love not with a person but your idea of being in love with the person. Learn to differentiate between the two. Allow yourself the love that you shower on other people.

  • Let go of some moments.
  • You’re too controlling.
  • Be a bit more quiet.

You’re still unsure about loving him. Sometimes, love doesn’t have to be the typical Romeo Juliet kind. Sometimes, love can be like the hunchback of Notre-Dame. The year 2016 is just lingered with disappointed love. However, whatever happened is in the past. When love left it kept the door open so expect someone new to walk in. You don’t have to be with someone to show you love them.

I’m glad I am more determined of what I want in life and how I want it. Also, the concept of time is relative so just stop worrying about not having enough time. Love the new tattoo btw. Not sure if I still stick to the belief. I hope your belief in Him gets stronger with time and you get your answers. This year has just been one messy event that I would like to sleep through. The highlight is I’ve finally quit chugging pills and the downside is, I have a long road ahead to figure myself out. Hold on to what is necessary but let go of things that do you more harm than good.

I liked how you spent the year with family and focusing on what you want in life. It’s very rare that I think about life in general and strategize. People change so learn to deal with it. Pretty sure I’ve changed drastically over the year as well.

Will I be okay? I think.

Will I learn to live with this? Yes

Will I survive 2017? Let’s see!

2016 you taught me well. 2017 I hope you’re kinder.

2 hours till the new year, time to open that bottle!

Confusions

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I’m not good at letting things so. I guess that is why I try not to get attached. Attachment means vulnerability and I’ve never liked being vulnerable. Sometimes; it means exposing the galaxies inside your chest but how can I if mine is a black hole? I have no justification for what I do at times. The constant manic cycles that leaves you bloodied. Running back to you on lonely nights just to howl outside your door. At one point in time I thought I knew what love was like. It smelt like your cologne and cigarettes. Love tasted like tobacco and caffeine. Love felt a lot like shutting the world out on rainy days. Love was sneaking around with the adrenaline pumping through our veins. It was stolen. Our love was always stolen and sneaky. It was a chase. I still have no justification for leaving.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m not able to let go of you or the feeling of love?

A poem for your manipulator

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I’ve been too afraid to lose people. So much so that in order to make room for their personality, I diminish mine. I learnt it from my parents. My mother turned from monsoon rain to a chaotic thunderstorm. My father became the ruins rather than the fire.

I make room for his,
dreams
aspirations
hopes
love
goals
in this process of providing space. The little of myself I was left with is crumpled in the corner. To keep a love one has to bend.
One has to change.
One has to make room.
One has to apologize.
One has to let go because love,
Love is worth keeping
Love is worth fighting for
But love is toxic
When he tells you that you should be sorry for your choices. When he makes you feel like you do not exist except for his shadow. When he makes sure you know that he has the string and you’re just a puppet. When his silence screams at your face more than his words. When he tells you that he will leave. When he emotionally manipulates you with your answers and you can’t do anything about it. When he takes the little space that you had.

I’ve been too afraid to lose people. But, I’ve realized I’m more afraid to lose myself.