Nothing better to do.

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So, I was just like, sitting here in the rain at one am in the morning, waiting for some miracle to take me far away from my sinister thoughts and decaying metaphors and wished to open a new blog to write my musings alone and stop my former one; i.e, this one. But, upon reaching here I saw, I have two new followers and that makes me 75 followers, not bad!

But, I never began this blog with the intention of more followers, fame or something like that. I just made this blog to post in my shitty musings of a poem and look if I can impress people. Most of my life, I was like that and I am still now… wondering, waiting, wishing, for people’s support, suggestions, encouragement and good luck. I still want them and when I get a comment saying something genuinely, I still skip a beat.

And I am still confused, mad and cold. My mom is sleeping and in fact, everyone is sleeping. But, I am here, sitting, eating a snickers bar, alternating between writing a horror paranormal book and writing this blog. I don’t even know why I am writing this in the first place, but… here I am, still continuing and I wonder if people will read this. What will they think after reading this? Oh, that reminds me, I still can’t like and follow certain people.

It sucks to be stuck in a loophole of doing the same things and never once stepping out from the giant wheel but dare not advise me to make a move since ever since I knew I am stuck and circling; I have tried to break out but I am still here… in this forsaken hour, writing something that is not what I wanted to when I began this blog post.

WOW…

sigh!

 

G’night or G;morning 🙂

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Possessed- My book.

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So, have you ever had the beautiful opportunity to be scared in your life because of some unnatural, unexplainable event?

Have you ever been touched by an unseen hand?

Have you ever listened to a whisper by silence?

Can you imagine to be in a life of Conjuring where reality is far more worse than Conjuring?

Can you imagine a life of a girl who had to go through her whole life in such unnatural happenings?

If you are really interested in such a paranormal, mind-boggling thriller, head on to @wattpad and go to @LostIn2Sight and click #possessed, Only in #wattpad 🙂

This is an advertisement, I guess to myself because I want more people to know about the risk and clarity of reality. Because you believe in science, it doesn’t mean you are safe from Supernatural Science!

Read and enjoy 🙂

My first slam

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I am gonna tell a story.

When I was young
And didn’t know the world was cruel
I somehow survived being myself. Then and now, A blessing; I guess.
When they teased me for being the biggest in class
When I wore spectacle as thick as me with a chain into class for the first time
And when I ate too much than they could fill in their stomach
I was teased, mocked and laughed at.
But, I used to stay strong
And laugh with them for the joke that shook my body, my belly
I never cried when they teased me or belittled me
Because I was never in reality,, I was always in a dreamland.
I was something else
Maybe that was how I coped with things-
When I didn’t know what love was, what depression was, what sadness was
Maybe I was too ignorant
And that made me smile all the time and sleep with dreams full of bogus glitters.
Oh, but, yes, I cried
I cried thinking about my mother
She was always being scolded by my father
She was always crying when we were never watching
And I cried for my father
Because he was always stressed in his workplace
He was always unhappy in his life
But he provided us with riches and things
But never happiness
Seeing our loved ones unhappy won’t make us unhappy
It makes us miserable

When I grew up to have little projections in my chest
It was the size of a cricket ball
And it wasn’t anything like the insect bites on my friends
And that got me attention
Lots of it
I didn’t like the projection but I didn’t know that it was my breasts
And that will attract man like a moth to the flame
I didn’t know it then
I smile like I did always
And I was touched when I smiled
I didn’t know it was wrong
He was speaking to me very clearly, jokingly, about his life in his hometown
And I miserably tried to get out from his hands because I thought he was playing
But they were held too tight and… I was touched.
I didn’t know it then
That he was sick and I was a toy
I didn’t know what he was doing.
Now, I know… his frame of mind was to be cleaned with acid and
He should be taught from the beginning how to respect women.
I was young. Only sprouting wings.
And he blemished my clean slate with a memory I can’t wash off.

I was never a writer,
It somehow stumbled on to me while I was learning a boring subject for exam
Beautiful strips of golden caramel oozed in through the windows
And like possessed by a foreign soul, I took up a pen and paper
And wrote about the radiance
And I became a writer- when my heart started to learn about fear, fat, ugly and depression.

When I was fully grown to a small woman
I learned about my body
And still feel irritated and hate the tingles that stay on my breasts thinking about that touch
I should have kicked him, scolded him, told my mother
But I never did,
Cause they won’t understand.
My young brain had this notion that they wouldn’t understand
Not because I had any experience that made me trust them less
But I couldn’t bring myself to tell them
That I have been abused by a desperate man in the grocery store that my father always shook hands with
I hid that pain and betrayal and sadness in my poetry later on.
You see, I am not a writer.
Metaphors are for insecure people who want to hide behind words.
Yet, I have been called a metaphor queen
And I have been said I didn’t understand what metaphor was.
But, I used metaphor like I used water
To hide my tears once I learned words had that sort of power.
I never wrote… I hid

When I was finally a woman
With feathers yet to be born,
With stones yes to be turned
And life yet to be understood
I know what happiness, sadness, and emotions are
I know what each makes one feel
I wish for the bubbles on my hands that connect with happiness, to stay forever.
Because he only comes once in a while
And sadness smiles and stays by my side, always.
He loves me every night and I sketch the feelings on my pillows.

I am not a writer.
I don’t know how to write.
How to plot a story and tell them effectively
Because when I started to write this,
I had a different story line in my eyes
But when I began, my heart poured words and I am ashamed that I can’t even bring out what I really want to say
But, my heart said all of this, so it’s true and I let it be
But I am ashamed
I know I will be read and re-read by many
Some will say, I said too much, it’s too long, you have grammar mistakes and you suck
Plain and simple; you suck
And I know I suck.
Should I nametag it myself?
I have been sucking my life for eternity
Because even when God created me beautifully in his eyes
My rolled out thighs and protruding stomach made it clear in the eyes of people, that I am anything but beautiful
And the people made it their personal agenda to make me feel
I am fat
I am ugly
I am big

I have no messages to share
I have no wisdom to pour
I have no ideas to dare
And I have no chances left to explore

But, somehow I did
I wrote in midst of all those sword slashes
And I wrote with ink from my blood
But that was not enough for people to understand
That I have already been through too many thorns
And I am already being shredded
I am something else… other than what I show
But, people won’t understand

When I finally learned to understand and learn to realize
I was too fat, too naïve, too shy and too misunderstood
Way too fat to shed some pounds
Way too thick to make some rounds
Way too naïve to make understand
And way too stupid to befriend with

And I was stressed by life’s personalized concerts
I was shredded in emotional downpour
And I was caramelized in life’s personalized hurricanes
I came to know about the riches of life
And only then did I learn that all this time, my smile was a fake mask that I wore
A fake mask that I wore to cover my frown lines
A fakeness that my own heart made for me so that one day when I sit and realize that life is not as I believe, I shouldn’t be broken.

I don’t know how to write what my veins convey
I don’t know how to write what my eyes are flashing to me
Yet, I am writing like a machine
And I don’t know how to stop
I have too much to tell
Too much to yell
But I am already swelled
And this is all leveled
The platform is torn
And I have no audience
I cry to my soul
Yet, my life is a hollow shell
I fell bloated, inflamed and shamed
I want to release my demons
But I am stuck with their marvelous tingles
I am stuck inside my own body
Shackled with words that won’t come out
I am stitched with my own chords
And I am being beaten up by my own fears
I crawl myself into a ball and listen to the rainfall wondering if I could ever call and be answered by someone
I want to be nurtured, to be cradled, and to be understood
By someone who can understand my heart.
My mother soothes me, my brother makes me laugh, and I am being loved
But never understood for what I really am
I smile and hide and laugh and cry
I am never understood
And I think, I will stop pouring words now,
Since what I want to say is not coming out
And I don’t want to cry when I stop writing this

I just wanted to tell you a story
But I ended up with just clipped scenes from my story
And since, I am not a writer
And I don’t know how to write
I will end this here
With a big yellowish smiley period

What will I do then???

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Its been a while since I have posting something actually talking apart from my poetry! And I am seeing many likes but not comments, I hope you all love it to keep pushing that button..

From a very young age itself, I have been fatty and still continues to saunter in the extra curves. Every time I read the weight loss stuffs, I prepare myself to “yes, this is it, Now on….” blah blah…

But, I can’t say I have not tried, Yes, I have tried…..

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Its sometimes very confusing to take a map and go behind it, if its a print out from the WEB, yes, while frantically searching for tips that I can go on…..I got a page in one site, asking me to drink plenty of water and go exercise and the same page that comes under the Google search says, we should not exercise with empty stomach as it hurts our metabolism.. Haha, I had a good laugh back then… Next, I see that empty stomach exercising is good plus you have to do it with a heavy breakfast after and in another one with a light breakfast before and after to go with the exercise….With my migraine and fat my physical training sir in college asked me to not to do hard exercise and not to skip meals, while a trainer in google search asks me to go exactly the opposite.

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One thing what I have decided is that, I will myself try all those in terms that won’t physically hurt me and guess what, drinking wheat porridge and fasting in the Islamic way has helped me burn a few calories and reduce the extra curves. its been a while since I tried to reduce my weight and yearning zero results as per going through the advice of googling…. Now, if you wanna know my trick in reducing I will tell you, but, again you have the right to pick or ditch, as per your metabolism and physic 🙂

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I eat banana as it helps me with my acidic stomach plus gas trouble. I don’t like oats and so it give me trouble and so, I eat wheat porridge which I pour out considerable amount of starch in it and pour hot water to make it light. If you have prepared wheat porridge you will know that the starch in wheat makes it thick and milky, so removing from the pressure cooker, I pour out the starch water and pour in hot water. You can do the same 🙂 I eat dates, dried figs and drink water and took fast in the Islamic way, I hope you know it..Abstaining from food and water from the dawn till dusk 🙂 It helped me and so after the month of Ramadan, I am continuing the practice taking intervals.

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I still haven’t got a remedy from Migraine and so I let it be with drinking water. images (13)

This was a piece of my heart as a diary entry concerning my doubts and findings…..Please read and don’t forget to tell me what you think after reading 🙂

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Until, then ciao ciao! 🙂

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Storm blooming pain.

Beyond the cold shores of dawn
rests a seed, deep inside my hurt
slow breathing enunciate
a soft tendril, like my heart
I can hear the thunder rumbling
like the kids with a cartwheel
perspiration jogging down their body
mingling with the laughter
One explosion illuminate my obscure world
and the tendril rise with a leaf
the leaf of freedom or hurdle
the stem shall decide
In between cold stares of rain drops
and harsh strike of lightning
my mind dwindle
like a drop on leaf

The pain of my mother. (not good at prose,but tried one.)

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I promised her she will never have to cry. leaving behind the bones of yesterday’s grim hope, that rattles along with tins and cans I used to preserve pickled lies. The ghastly light flickered above me with a slow moan as the breeze fondled in the obscure, a shade of apprehended silhouette brush my soul and I feel no fear gripping me. Tears that fell from your eyes burst like little bombs in my head and I feel my strength oozing out just by looking at her face and I smile reassuringly, but she tightly seals her lips and blink her eyes with a sigh, the dust settled around her scattered in the hazy light.

As the day withered away in the ashen times of winter, tightening frost bites sink into my body making me go numb, and I feel no pain in my heart that has stopped beating or because I was too busy in the protruding fantastical life, I forgot to breath. Long stares at infinity has made thick bags underneath her plateaued eyes that sunk her pupils and dilapidated wrinkles crowned her flesh that once was red with bliss. Now, I see terror surpassing through her heart beating umpteenth time and she breathe in strongly making me choke on this hurt that has turned us(me and my mother) into a blatant array of lost survivors.

As I look into your eyes, the visions seems blurred with dried tears now stinking in your pupils and that tears a channel down your wrinkled face taking time to find the path through your layers of untimely struggle and strife. Now, as I look upon you I see fear intermingling death, longing for a door that shall bypass our tragic end to a full hope reassuring death.

life was never easy and promises are easy to say but hard to keep, mom!

Waiting for a change.

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What has it got us I wonder!

Look around to see the land chocking up remnants of memories once held pride.Now putrid emotions drench the land and spit out horrible gases chocking out brains. Looking at the long spiraling and non-spiraling buildings, I wonder….Don’t they give a chance. For people who was happy withe green and mud in their fingers. Now, deprived of freedom, farmers suicide and leave the land alone and barren for the big corporate to mark the site as “tourist luxury resorts”.

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I am not blaming for these technical advancement has brought lots of chances and survival whims for many, but they have destroyed the place where we can leave happily. Each day, just take a on the spot circling tour and you will see the green is diminishing by minutes and grey is taking a toll on the land. Only grey could have been survived, but the black emitting from grey populate white formidable aliens destroying immunity and the instincts for survival sinks.

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Never have been the majority against for such a thing and now the reason for their loud struggle is coming into existence. As long as the green starts to vaporize, fresh breath shall sink in and chock us with our blood infuriating. Even in this blazing heat, I see people cut down trees, huge shady trees and use it for something less important in this heat. I can;t comprehend this need of doing what is worst for others.Though they may never smell the patch of sweat bulging on their forehead, I wish they could only listen to the heavy breath of poor, pooling in their sweat for a one chance they could take down a proper meal.

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Wishing and hoping for a change and that too, a big one, I look around………..anticipating.

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