Let’s take a picture

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Memories created with the intention of creating are as useful as platic surgery, they look pretty in the backdrop but are just as fake.

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The traffic on the highway

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The construction on the highway
Has the traffic crawling
So I cannot normally cruise
But rather spend long hours in line
Stuck
Looking at blank faces
Men and women
Some have children in the backseats
Looking ahead
To nowhere

The rush hour has everyone
Running back to their homes
To their bored lives
Running to watch soap operas
Which shows a life of romantic grandiose
The likes they will never live but only see on the telly
Running to watch the news
Cursing the government but unable to start a revolution
Running to the end of the day
Only to start again

What we need is a revolt
Against our old systems
Rip it out from the root and burn it
Throw it in the air

But we don’t
Because, a revolt against the system would mean
A revolt against self
We’re quick to take action against others
Not ourselves

I pick a bottle of whiskey on my way
Running to no way particularly
Cheers to my own revolution
I smirk
Maybe, I’ll be a changed man
Or so I would like to think

In memory of you

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When I first met you
I liked how fast paced you were
The thrill excited me
You once asked me, why we were friends?
I said, you’re exciting to be with and you teach me things
You laughed and asked what things?
Well, I could not answer then
But now I know exactly what you taught me

Love will always conquer hate
But never enough
Truth will always take you close
But never close enough
Happiness is everything in between
Your hand and my hand
Tiny but plausible enough
Life will always make you breathless
But never enough to knock you out

Until it does
And you are six feet under
Cold
Unable to come back
In that case, it is enough

You were always just so much
But never enough

May you watch the heavens burn, kid
Or
Wait a while
I’ll bring a lighter soon enough

Rest in peace
With lots of love but never enough

What fuckery is this?

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I look at the long stretch of road ahead
As I drive home after a day of doing nothing
The truck I see in my rear view mirror
Looks very tempting to crash into
I imagine how it would be
Tilting the car to the side
And
The collision would have me drifting off
Off the highway to the other side
Impact from the collision would leave me unconscious
I hope dead
But then someone laughs
I think in my head, or the radio

You see the thing about bipolar disorder is that it creates scenarios
Shit that won’t happen but it is fun to imagine
My mind will convince me that it’s the best thing to do
Crash my car
Break stuff
Vandalize public property
Or go on an excessive abusive spree

Disturbed cognitive functioning sometime means that I alter my perception of reality
So I’ll imagine cruising down the highway at 100km an hour
After having a wonderful time out
And suddenly it would hit me that I don’t want to live anymore
At times I will go silent in a second
Because the happy switch that made the world seemed perfect
Was flicked out
It’s time for the gloom to take over

When you swing between extremes
You’ll be out hiking with your best pals at 8 am on a Monday
Laughing and dancing
But the very night
You decide that you’re not leaving the house for the next five days
The very sun you embrace
Is like thumb pin pricks on your skin
And your bones decide that the weight of all of this is too much
So your mattress on Wednesday will have imprints of your skin
On Friday the voices will haunt you
This is not real, you know it
Yet you won’t move
Because,
You know that happy days have a price tag associated with them
And this
This is the price you have to pay for being so happy the previous week

Sometimes, you imagine that nothing is real
And that you don’t want to wake up from this
Other times you slap yourself because it’s unbearable

Your friend comments how happy you look
And you don’t tell him that you’ve practiced this smile in the mirror
All the way from home

So next Monday
You refuse to give up
The world is not beautiful and it’s not painted in your favorite colors
And sunny days are not the best ones
A lot of times you want to kill yourself
On spot
But you don’t
Because, fuck! You deserve to live and carve out the life you want
The happy days will be back
You’ll live this one through as well
Till then,
Scream on your way home
Don’t crash into that truck

Trippin on a Tuesday

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I seem to always ask myself in moments of sheer clarity, “Who am I” and try to conjure up as many identities as I could.
Woman. Millennial. Muslim. Pakistani. Punjabi. Feminist.
At the top of my head these are some of the identities that I use for myself. Sort of like ribbons i’ve wrapped around my existence.

I ask myself again, Who am I?
The voice replies “nothing”.
It’s like the different ribbons wrapped so tightly around my existence are there in place to hide the fact that I am nothing. It is a dead end oblivion but not particularly the negative one that we attribute to the nihilistic concept of living.

But i’ve learnt with time and of age to undo every ribbon around my existence and unveil a cosmic cluster of nothingness that will slowly dissipate into the void that it belongs to.
A kaleidoscope pattern from the spill of cosmic cluster. The ribbons have come off. I know who I am.
I ask myself again, who are you?
“Nothing and everything”, this time I make a note to say it out loud.

(Acid diaries)

Play pretend

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In third grade we learnt about gravity and how it functions
It pulls you towards
Itself
But the opposing force makes you stay on ground
That is why the earth never fully consumes
Us
I imagine this sometimes
When dark days takeover
And I find my bones sinking in the mattress
Unable to move
I look at the sun but the light never touches me
One of these days
The force that keeps me afloat will come back
Till then I lay still
And pretend play with this emptiness

Gypsies in Love

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A gypsy heart
You and I
Wanderers running in search of the next best thing in life
Present known

A nomad soul
You and I
We danced our way through life
Tomorrow unknown

Khanabadosh, someone once said
You’re one of them
He is too, the woman pointed
Bound to leave eventually but you’re meant to be
Somewhere up in the constellations

I don’t believe in chaining people down
You don’t believe in commitments
We head for a shipwreck among the stars

Let us drown
Let us drown
Among the ones where we belong

I think I loved you

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I once loved a person.
He was a mysterious book
where every chapter ended with cliffhangers
I was hooked
I read the book and paid attention to details
A good reader learns between the lines

I once loved a person
Who made me a part of the mystery
Only a killer can stitch you up in between fine prose
Find a way to hide you in plain sight
In between the cracks of pavements
Or spill you like the color palette of a sunset
Without anyone noticing

I once loved a person made of mysteries
Who made me forget myself
Replaced it with the charm of aloofness
Shrugging off 5 am sadness
With stories that made you want more
But never get enough of
Then the person left with an ending that just didn’t fit right

So I picked up the pen
And wrote my own mystery
You know that is the thing about falling in love with mysteries
You become a cliffhanger to your own story