Words can’t describe how I feel
Yet here I am, writing them down
Contentment, joy, bliss
Heart bursting love, aching worry
For all that we have, can be lost
Our days are numbered; months, days, years
Can I hold your hand for eternity?
Say nothing, do nothing, just stay here
Melt into your eyes
Keep you safe from the world
Words can’t describe how I feel
And here I am, trying to breathe right
Come home safe, come home fine
I’ll keep this pain to myself
You fight your battles
I’ll fight mine
Meet in the middle
Time after time
Words can’t describe how I feel
So here I am, praying to the Divine
It’s nothing he says with an indifferent shrug
Nothing more than usual, worry not
Facade calm and strong
Is it true or not?
With a hand he waves away all but’s
Shaking his head, worry not
Facade sure and dismissive
Is it true or is it not?
Not once does his posture waver, upright, confident
Trivial matters, didn’t I tell you; worry not
Facade decisive and bored
Can it be true or not?
Searching eyes left short, an act so complete
Am I foolish to not worry not?
Facade condescending and fond
I hope it’s true, no nots
I sigh loudly as I watch the old woman, jogging past in her track suit. Her smile, her passion and her love for life usually make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Today, I feel nothing. If she can’t lift my mood, no one can. Hoisting my backpack on my shoulders I begin the twenty minute walk to my school, eyes down, mouth slack. The cracks in the concrete don’t entice me, I no longer care what magical world could possibly be lurking inside or what wild species of bugs might have mutated to survive such drab conditions. It does not matter.
My feet move mechanically. I know the path like I know my house, who cares about the back of my hand. The colours in the world aren’t as bright. Is it just me, or is life pointless? My thoughts are wandering. If I don’t control them, they could wreak havoc. I submit, they can do what they want, I feel masochistic as they slowly unfold. One after the other the pictures, the memories rise from behind the withering shield. My granddads smile, his warm hugs and his love……a flashback of me holding his hand, walking home from school. Another flashback, him favouring me over my brother….my eyes start to water. He’s taking me with him to Queens market now, we’re on a bus and he’s gazing out the window, he pats my back. My breathing gets heavier. He looks at me, with his big blue eyes, disoriented from the medication, so weak, so helpless, but still he pulls me closer and tells me he’s proud of me. I try breathing slowly and deeply……. It was a mistake to let it come out, I’m a few streets away from the school. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I wipe away the tears that apparently spilt without my consent. There’s not point in crying, I should pray for him.
As I round the corner, my name being yelled out breaks me out of my reverie. I look up, confused as a shape hurtles towards me and yanks me into a choke hold. I gasp and register the familiar scent of lotion. I laugh and untangle myself from my best friend’s arms. I grin at the group of teens before me. With them, I can forget for the time being. All is right. I am safe.
“I failed my chemistry midterm. I know it’s only a monthly assessment for my classmates, but for me it’s something much more. I feel pale. It’s hard to breathe. If my grades don’t improve I have no future. My aunt and uncle have been kind enough to put up with me since my parents died two years ago. But I feel like a burden on them. I’m an outsider in their home. I feel like an intruder. I don’t belong. No matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve I feel incomplete. There’s no one to share my victories with. Who’ll feel proud of me when I succeed and tell me off when I screw up. My heart splutters. I wish I could hug my mum.
It’s this need that exists in every second of every day, that has me crawling into a fetal position to try and ease the pain, that I want to discard. Maybe if I got better grades, my teachers would appreciate me….If I smoked those cigarettes everyone in class does they would accept me as one of them. Who cares if I die anyway…..”
So much more than that plagues the mind of an orphan. My heart goes out to them and I wish I could just take them all and give them a huge hug, give them all the love they crave and deserve. I seriously cannot wait until I’m independent enough to adopt an orphan! Heck, I would right now but I want to be able to provide for him/her so that means waiting for a while until I get a job.
Elizabeth walked beside Annabelle, talking animatedly about her latest stunt with the eagles that often passed her house. They were strolling around the crowded school courtyard during the one recess they got all day. Annabelle gasped right on cue as Elizabeth discussed how the eagle swooped down, almost grazing her head. She was trying to concentrate on what Elizabeth was saying but her mind couldn’t focus. It kept straying to the recent fight her parents had had. They had yelled at each other for hours and it ended only when her mother stormed out of the house in tears. Her mum still hadn’t come back yet, though it had been a week, and whenever she approached her father, he was difficult. He wouldn’t talk. Or if he did, the sentences were brief. Annabelle shook her head, trying to to get the thoughts to go away. Elizabeth was done with her story and the silence wasn’t bearable.
“So I heard you started watching ‘Glee’ right?”
“Pfftt dude, I watched like four episodes and I hated it. They totally ruin songs.” Elizabeth teased.
“Hah! No way! Their voices are amazing! They do the original artists a favour by singing their songs.” She laughed, the distraction was working.
“Plus the guys aren’t even hot. There’s no point of watching a show without hot guys.” winked Elizabeth.
Annabelle couldn’t help laughing. Trust Elizabeth to get her cheered up with her carefree air. She felt lighter and the worries seemed more distant. Glancing up she noticed Sam observing her. She flushed. The loneliness came back. Why had she ever left Sam for Elizabeth? Sam was her best friend. She understood Annabelle without so much as a word from her. She always knew what to say and what to do. Now Annabelle had popularity and a reputation in school. Sam was still with the old crowd, the odd ones. Her life was a mess but no one knew, no one could tell, and no one cared. As long as she was smiling and laughing at their jokes nothing else mattered. She was just another face.
Annabelle was quiet. She glanced wistfully at the ‘odd’ crowd, her crowd. Sam had left and she tried looking for her but the courtyard was too crowded. Elizabeth hadn’t noticed her silence or distraction, and had taken advantage of the gap to recount another one of her many stories. Annabelle just nodded, wishing she could go back to Sam and apologize. Wishing she could do it without bursting into tears and wishing above all that Sam would, could forgive her for stepping on her to get into the ‘popular’ gang. The bell rang, signaling the students to get back to their classes for lessons to start. She trudged beside Elizabeth, trying not to think about anything. Trying to keep everything at bay.
They were on the steps when a hand touched her shoulder. Turning around, she saw it was Sam. In her eyes she saw understanding not the betrayal and judgement she was used to. There was something else too, but it couldn’t be possible. After all she’d done, how could Sam forgive her. But her she was, standing before her, hands in pockets.
“I’m here.” Sam said.
Tears stung Annabelle’s eyes. She wasn’t alone.
Note to self: Never wear awesome stuff to a house you know things can get messy at.
I had a feeling something would happen but did I listen to my instincts, nope. Ignored them completely and they bit back good! Lol not that I didn’t have fun….. It was awesome, minus the stuff getting ruined 😛
So we went round my cousins house tonight (got back a while ago) and we (my family, my ‘chachu/uncles family and I) enjoyed ourselves a lot. We started off with just going and sitting down. Then my sister and younger cousins went out saying that they were gonna play cricket. I told them to call me when they started cause I know my family well enough to know that they were gonna dilly dally like crazy. After five minutes I went to go check on them and sure enough they weren’t even close to starting. Some of the cousins were playing football while the others were riding the bicycles. I got one and rode too, that’s when the first thing got ruined…….Riding the bicycle, feeling great when suddenly I realize my ‘kameez/shirt’ is stuck in the chain. ‘Oh crap’ was the first thought but I survived that round with just some grease stains which I pray will come out. You would’ve thought I’d learned my lesson but no like the ‘dheet/stubborn’ person I am I rode on after freeing myself…. I was forced to learn a hard lesson and finally give up the next time my shirt got stuck….this time it ripped I loved that shirt. I designed and stitched it myself ….You know the one I was complaining about in ‘Productivity’.
Anyhow after that fiasco we all decided to play football. I love playing though I admit I’m not exactly brilliant. My team mates put me as a striker in the first half……they’re biggest mistake 😛 They all played so good it kinda scared me. I mean they hit the ball so hard I was intimidated. So naturally whenever the ball came my way I would freak and kick it all wrong….at times taking away from my own team mates though in my defense it was pretty dark. Moving on I was playing barefoot and in the dark and all in all I sucked, though I was the oldest person playing. I was having fun playing crap and all but enjoying myself because it was funny to see them getting all worked up over a game. I once kicked the ball so wrong that my younger cousin goes off muttering ‘wow’ sarcastically to herself. xD We were losing. My sister was the other teams’ goal keeper and she wasn’t doing squat. But somehow they had evaluated that she was good. Haha I joked with her that I should be the keeper too cause I wouldn’t have to do anything but still get credit.
We had a dinner break then after coming back my team mates made me goalie probably wanting me to get out of the way. It was a polite way of doing it so kudos to them. I surprised them all when I saved a goal so awesomely. I dived and stopped the ball…..to be honest I didn’t believe it myself. After that I was less of a burden and more accepted. Not great but good. I actually started saving goals really well though I don’t even know how, I still can’t believe I could’ve saved them and every time the ball came near me I was worried I was gonna screw up. But I survived and my team won 9-7.
It was during my goal keeping miracles that I broke my bracelet. I took it off worried something would happen and put it on the floor where I didn’t think the ball would come. But nope the ball came attracted by such a strong force of gravity that the flowers came off…… I’m going to glue it together again but I don’t think it’ll be that durable.
Nevertheless I had a blast laughing at dumb kicks and passes. The little things.
‘Like father like son.’
The world is full of these assumptions. People assume that we are like our parents and that if we come from a bad family we can’t be expected to be good. It’s wrong. Yes, as children we are what our parents teach us. We don’t know right from wrong as these things have yet to be taught to us. BUT as we gradually grow older, more mature and aware of our surroundings we start to develop our own perception of things. Our views change and we change.
How can you justify treating a son bad just because of his father? A daughter bad just because of her mother? Or even the other way round? Give the person a chance to show you their true colours then treat them as you wish, with a clear picture of those person’s qualities. The fact is though are that in most cases we don’t give other people a chance. A criminal’s son is treated like crap while an honest man’s son is treated like a saint. The funny thing is that sometimes or most of the time the honest man’s son or a good man’s son is corrupt, maybe because they don’t think they can live up to the expectations or other factors though again we shouldn’t assume that’s the case until we have proof with our own eyes, not based on meaningless rumours with little truth to back up the claims.
The truth is it depends upon whether or not the child realizes that the things happening at home are wrong or right. If they realize that the actions of the person are wrong they are less inclined to do them later on. In fact often they are even more determined to avoid those things which caused them hardship and sadness in their childhood. They fear that they’ll become like their parent and so work harder to become the opposite. They know how it feels to be on the receiving end of such behavior and so are less tempted to cause the same pain to others. They can empathize.
In other cases some want to make people go through the same conditions they went through as a form of revenge. Yeah in that situation the sayings above do make sense. But as I said before first KNOW the person before judging them.
‘No father is responsible for the crimes of his son nor is the son responsible for the crimes of his father, and each will be accountable for his sins.’
Hold people accountable for what they’ve done not what someone they know has done or someone who their related to has done. That’s plain stupidity.
Went on a trip to Bahwalpur Pakistan to visit my cousins and historical sites…..
These mahals as they’re called were absolutely AMAZING! I felt honoured to be able to see them first hand.
Did you know that the ‘Nawabs’ who owned these buildings solely funded the Pakistani government when Pakistan was formed in 1947 for a whole 3 months! Thats how rich they were!
The Gulzar mahal was their guest house and the Darbar mahal was their office. I visited their house ‘Noor mahal’ too but I didn’t take a picture of it. The buildings were taken over by the army when the family’s descendants began squabbling over them.
The Noor mahal is open for tourists on weekends but the other two aren’t. Very few people are allowed inside because the army colonels,majors etc use the rooms as offices. I was allowed in because my uncle is a colonel.