who's ta say, ay?

the candle wax breaks off like the cake in the fridge she wants to eat, but can't. or doesn't want to. is she really helping the animals or is it just another man-made marketing scheme to make the man think he is doing good?

she notices the thin line of light through the crack of her bedroom door. is the glass half empty of half full? does she say 'half empty' first because her glass is tainted, or because it sounds better that way around?

she opens her bag to take out the banana that nobody wanted. it smells of disease. the one she's been carrying around for over two months now. does an apple a day keep the therapist away? because the banana is still mouldy, just like her brain.

the wind is trapped between the window and the mosquito net. the brick wall on the other side is stood, unmoving. why think of the brick wall as an obstacle in which you have to climb over or break through? who's to say it isn't freedom itself?

fucking insane.

is everyone home?
shall i lock the door?

quiet.

she opened the living room door to silence.

trouble.

the look she'd never seen before in his eyes was making its first appearance.
he grabbed her and placed her in front of the living room mirror.
look at yourself!
look at what you've become.

he snatched all of the little freedom she had with the grit in his teeth
you're fucking crazy.
stop acting crazy.


all she could do was smile fanatically.
fucking insane.

passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life wasted passion wasted youth wasted time wasted life

                                                                say it for long enough and it won't make a difference

no, she will not take it anymore (hopefully)

no, she does not have rickets. she was just pretending to play the bass.
(passer by-ers, say wassup)

no, she is not doing nothing. she was just thinking about how to not make a mistake.
(managers, shut the fuck up)

no, she is not ignoring you. she just really dislikes stupidity.
(parents, do they ever stop?)

no, she is not stupid. she just doesn't want to cause a scene.

(everyone, pour some more liquor in my cup)

her eyes are droopy and her heart is sad.
her neck has sunk into her back.
they are one. not like herself.
she feels like she is dying on the inside and out.
what can she do? she would leave her uncomfort for a hug.
but who would give it? she is not to them as they are to her.
expectations.

ay, i've become a sop.

and so quickly jhene aiko meant nothing to her.
so quickly frank ocean wasn't making her cry so much.
so quickly she realised she wasn't so sad anymore.
and so quickly she was falling in love.

did she know what she would become?

the glint in her eyes. hopefulness.

happy to be living. happy to be young. happy to be having fun. happy to not be caring about all the shit she will care about when she is older.

the semi-smile on her face. naivety.

unknowingness of the true world. unable to see true hurt. unaware of what is to come.



well it's all gone to shit now.
life.

she wants to met-ro-no-my it up!

she's getting bored again.
she's getting sad again.
she needs that bass guitar.
she needs to focus on something she,
wants to focus on.

she w...



she just realised why she writes on here.





















because noone else cares.

jerknee 2 da senter ov dee erf

she's on the bus. her friend calls. she doesn't pick up. she doesn't like to talk on the phone when on public transport. she doesn't like to talk on the phone, in general. she'd rather talk in person.

she's walking home now. she calls her friend back. her friend is sad. she can hear it in her laugh, and in the sigh at the end of it. she sees her neighbour. he smiles. the smile that says: 'don't tell anyone i'm smoking again'. fake. she walks into her garage and sees black shoes on the doormat. she thinks it's her cat. it's not him. he's dead.

supermassive bright moon

gyal: imagine seeing something so beautiful, then dying straight after.

bwoi: like what?
gyal: like... a full moon, a super bright full moon
bwoi: hmm, yh
gyal: would it be beautiful, or a tragedy?
bwoi: depends on how you see it.

he: your eyes are beautiful
me: thanks
me 2: they say your eyes are the windows to your soul. what do you think of that?
me: well, i'm still tryna figure out what a soul is and if it even exists.

her phone flashes at the corner of her left eye, but she feels empty. she replies to the message and prolongs the last word at a steady speed. she likes the way the buttons sound when one ear is on the pillow. muted. she turns to face upwards. the buttons sound terrible again. the person behind the counter thinks she looks like someone who wants to smile but can't.

continued?

she didn't wanna talk to professionals.
she was scared of what they'd say.
diagnosed with sadness -
stood still
thinking all day

welcome to depression?

what is depression?
everyone always talks about it.
'i've been through it'
'it's the worst'

but how would she know if she was THIS,
if she always felt a certain way.
THAT certain way.
always sad.

she thought: maybe you only know that you were THAT once you're out of that stage.
THAT phase.
but she's been sad for so long.
when will she be out of that stage,
THAT phase?

--

questions for god (if he exists):

on the day of judgement,

you will proceed to question me,

but i will cut in...


why didn't you show us a clear sign you existed?

why did you give us free will, then make us believe?

why did you make us hate each other?

why was i born into a muslim family?



after this,

i will demand i get into heaven,

because you have wronged me in so many ways.

and it was too late for you to fix it in that life,

so fix it now, bitch.

sorry, g.

he picks her up from the bus stop now.
but everything he says infuriates her.


sorry i never wanted to be a doctor
sorry i don't ever wanna go to uni
sorry i have two shitty jobs
sorry i like to go out a lot
sorry i like to stay out late
sorry i don't like to be home for long
sorry i can't speak bengali properly
sorry i'm not more 'asian'
sorry i dress like a boy
sorry i don't eat animals
sorry i say what i mean
sorry i like to use my left hand sometimes
sorry i don't believe in god.

AFTERNOON // EVENING

AFTERNOON /

her face is red,              
her body is beyond bruised.                                                        
she's burning herself more,                                                        
but she's happier than she's been in a long while.                      

(new relationship)
(veganism)
(pain feels nice)
(this won't last)


/ EVENING

she doesn't wanna write too much
because she knows he is reading.

don't ask her what's wrong.

little things upset her so much. so so much.

i'm fine.

pushed into a corner
always having to lie to her parents
you'd have thought they'd have learnt from their first child
to not push someone over the edge
to allow more freedom

muslim girl.
they got that wrong.
parenthood.
they got that wrong, too.

home - the place where you can be yourself...
not for her.
she didn't belong to her parents anymore
she didn't belong anywhere

overdosing never looked so easy.

i gotta lotta cheese award

she listens to 'everything i am' as her parents argue in the background. she thinks to herself how arthouse the situation is. the piano - so happy and simple. the raging - so consistent and loud.

more juxtaposition - the sun is out in london.

HBD sweetie/lisa

it was her sister's birthday. they were cutting cake. laughing. but all she wanted to do was be in her room listening to kanye.

her favourite kanye song is 'welcome to heartbreak'. - wanting to be successful but not wanting to miss out on important shit. 

she kinda wanted to miss these family events more than she didn't. 

they never listened to her. she was only the joker. they didn't know her. 

her deepness was not to be taken as a joke, just know.

she wondered: would she regret the time she wasn't spending with her family?

there were no excuses, since there was no success.

she pressed play.
her mind started to disappear.
she couldn't concentrate when music was playing.
selective memory -
she only remembered the thoughts she would later write up on this blog.
important stuff.

left is good.

she could only dream on her left side.

turn right and she'd be hit with a wall.
the dreaming stopped.
blankness.
mind block.
suffocation.

but she could only fall asleep on this side.
the right side.

why was it that she could only dream on her left side, but fall asleep on her right?

why do her parents still force her to use her right hand when eating?

left is good, though. left is good.
demon.

she thought she saw her mother talking to herself. but she was just praying.
wait, isn't that the same thing?

tbc

she felt trapped.
like the songs her sister played on repeat.

she felt trapped.
like the leaves trying to push past the gate.

she felt trapped.
like the dead fox between the branches.

she felt trapped.
like the people who believed in the hereafter.

she felt trapped.
like her parents' marriage.

she felt trapped.
like the thoughts she tried to suppress.

she felt trapped.
like the freedom she longed to have.

two days in a row now that someone else was sitting on her seat on the bus. she sits on her second favourite seat. no comparison. she thinks to herself: if this happens again tomorrow, it will be a sign. a sign that change is needed. or that change is happening.

her father, so scared of losing her, would apologise even when she was in the wrong.
her mother, so scared of losing it, would keep him even though they were trapped.

read between the lines...

if you read what she was writing, you'd see the word 'sad' a lot. her keyboard can even clarify that the letter 's' is most popular. it had dirt marks around it.

her hands were nearly always sweaty. she wanted to hold his hand but what's the point when you have to wipe them on your jeans first before you can?

read between the lines. why did she rarely use capital letters? why didn't she put a full stop there? why did she double space that paragraph?

why didn't you care when you should have?

428395 (numbers)

she has 4 days to become a full vegan. 4 days til her vegetarian tablets run out. 4 days til she'll start taking the vegan tablets that she bought about 30 days ago. 3 stickers on her laptop - 1 band logo, 1 animal rights one, and 1 promoting veganism. she has 4 days to become a full vegan. or the sticker would have to come off. she didn't want to take the sticker off. great reason.

ber pointless

she's so tired but the laptop won't let her sleep. all these pointless tabs open, like all the pointless conversations she's had today. like all the shit she's doing that she says will help her get further in life but probably won't. all these pointless jobs. all these pointless courses.

she's in denial.

maybe, man

she sits on the bus and recalls the stressful day she had at work. she thinks about how both her jobs are stressful and how easy it would be to quit them. she wants to do other things. she wants to pursue her dreams before it's too late. she doesn't have the money to take time off, however. this makes her sad. again.

she's off the bus. she realises she's listening to frank ocean. he's probably the most played artist on her ipod. he always makes her cry. she's walking home fast. she's sad. she's teary. next moment she's happy and singing along. next moment she's sad. and then she is happy. she wonders why this happens all the time.

she wants to talk to someone about this, but not a professional.

maybe she should just stop listening to frank ocean. but she doesn't want to. maybe she doesn't want to get better. maybe she'll always be sad.

childhood found

her brother's friend from america got some sweets back for him. she took each flavour from the starburst packet. the yellow one - lemon. could it be the sweet she craved all her life, but couldn't find after the age of 8?. it was. she bit into it. wow. childhood found. she goes onto google: 'was there ever a yellow starburst in england/uk?' she was right all along. the sweet she thought didn't even exist, really did. the taste she thought was only a dream, was not. orange was her favourite from the uk version. yellow is her all time favourite.

me: has the spider gone?
sister: yh, he's gone out.

they spoke as if the spider was their brother.


we are all animals. we are all humans.

pomegranate tea

she liked the pattern on the arizona ice tea bottle so she decided to cut it out. the scissors hit into her index finger on her right hand. she cut things with her left. there was no blood. but the cut was deep. just like her tears. nothing came out. but inside she was burning. like the dream she had the other day when she was told there was a hell. she stopped cutting and walked to her sister. her sister was too busy reading to care. she always read. but never wrote. she had ambitions. but never did. she walked back to put a plaster on the unhurt but wounded finger. she continued to cut around the bottle. she stopped. she was a hoarder. she threw the bottle in the bin.

.. TRUTH DON DIE!

her walls were painted with posters, photos, postcards and canvases of the truth.

her family were blinded by the not so obvious contradiction.

they didn't want to know.

but they do know.

the whole truth.

the truth was peeping out of her mouth more and more everyday.

she's vegan now.

but that's not all she is.

or isn't, even.

and soon they will know the whole truth.

MORE POETRY IS NEEDED

she regretted that she didn't take a picture of the billboard that stated: 'More poetry is needed.'

it would have been a great intro to her instagram.

there's always next time.

but the time was then. and she missed it.

a family of three bruddaz

a family of three brothers.

the eldest - the protector. looked out for the younger two. was never angry. wanted to help better his siblings. make them into something their mother would be proud of. she was proud of him. the protector.

the middle - loved to give hugs. loved his fish: sally, claus and TITI. she always laughed at that name. he never understood why. he will grow up to be handsome.

the youngest - the freest spirit she had ever met. never stood in one position. always on the go. reminded her of herself. reminded her that she could be even more free. she would encourage his behaviour. they got along well. his mother adored him. she nurtured him. never allowed him to feel strange or out of place.

a good mother. a great one.

a dot in the clouds. it followed her. she'd been watching is for so long now. but she wasn't bored.

did it know she was staring at it? and was anyone else staring at it at the same moment in which she was? was their perception of it different from hers? or was it the same? maybe to her it looked more beautiful. at that moment, anyway.

stare at it for too long without blinking and it's almost as if it's gonna grab you through the window and take you with it.

it started to get bigger. the clouds were turning a lighter grey. the sun was out now.

she was enamoured by the raindrops on the window. the way they spontaneously connected to each other to win the race together. team work. true friendship.

numberero sombrero une dos tres taka rapa res

for so long she was sad, but today she noticed he was too.

before - she hung out with him because she missed him.
then - she hung out with him in fear of missing out on opportunities.
now - she hangs out with him just because she wants to.


for so long she was sad, but today it turned into a different type of sadness.
this time the sadness was subtle.

maybe this period of her life was also ending.

maybe it was closure

that special 'friend'

a good day. had it's highlights.

but it was ending.

they were back. 

back at it again.

once again she was sad.

why did she let it happen. again. 

she was weak. 

that's the reason

it's always the reason.

she found out:

girl: so, does it affect my emotions?
doctor: yes
girl: even with the medicine?
doctor: yes.

not what she wanted to hear.

acting normal,

they were at it again.
acting normal.
the laughing,
the pretending
that everything was okay.

give it a couple of months and they'll be at IT again.
the real normal.
the fighting,
the pretending
that everything would be okay.

he'd ask to leave.
she'd say 'go'.
he'd pack his bags
but then plead 'no'.

they'll be at it again, though.
acting normal.
the laughing,
the pretending
that everything was okay.

sometimes she felt like jimmy fallon, laughing when she didn't have to or want to. accommodating her company just to avoid any awkwardness.

a great host.

-
a great host
a fake host
laughed more than most
at dead jokes

didn't get a date with nicole kidman.

popz

her father frequently tried to make an effort with her.
but he wasn't around enough for her to care.
she often even forgot he was in the house.

she, moods she swings -

she didn't want any more medicine and she didn't want to talk to anyone about it either.

she just wanted to understand why she would go from up to down so sharply.
so quickly.
so randomly.

her family mistook it for anger and moodiness.

her friends mistook it for weirdness and excitement.

she, she didn't know what it was.

she needed to find out.

no kiss.

she walked half way up the stairs, but turned back.

she knew she'd regret going to bed on bad terms with her mum.
she knew she'd regret going to bed without saying goodnight to her.

'Goodnight.'

no kiss.

IMPERATIVEz

manager: be on time

me: i'll try my best

manager: no, you'll be on time, won't you?

me: look, i don't believe in that, i'll try my best, man, chill.

manager: well if you're not on time tomorrow, then you won't have a job.

me: well, what if i die and i just told you i WILL be on time, then what? 

manager: ...

me: the word 'will' is like a promise. and i don't like to say shit that i'm not so sure of.

manager: ... see you tomorrow

me: ... hopefully.

she couldn't understand how her best friend could be enjoying the same moment in which she wasn't. was she really having fun, or was she just faking it? she thought she was pretending but didn't say anything. in fact, she knew she was lying, but entertained her nonetheless. she loved her, and she'd try her best not to let on she wasn't enjoying her time there. maybe her best friend knew. but she, too, said nothing. they entertained each other.

her mum walked into the room. she talked 'important stuff' with her sister. she then walked back to Pinks and kissed her. she did this because she knew her daughter was losing love for her.

Pinks didn't move. she didn't smile. she didn't return the kiss. she just didn't care.

maybe her mother should have kissed her when she still cared.


maybe her friend should have cared before she stopped caring.

Confessions Part II

she goes to the kitchen to make something to eat.

her mum asks her why she didn't brush her hair today. in bengali everything sounds aggressive and stupid.

she hates stupidity so lashes out.

her big sister is home. she tells her to fix her attitude.

she fights back. 

everyone jumps in.

'SHE DIDN'T TAKE HER MEDICINE' they chant. 

her mother, always one to chat shit, explains that the doctors told her that her daughter's emotions will always be dodgy. 

that's a lie.

i don't recall this.

how and why did her mother bring it up now? 

to fit in. to be on the same side as her other children.

she's had enough.

she walks out of the kitchen slowly, goes through the living room. closes the door normally. not to cause a scene.

she walks up the stairs. 

the tears are back.

she sits at her laptop and opens photobooth to watch herself cry. why did she do this?

she laughs to herself - how funny it is that this happened yesterday and she also wrote about it. 

I BELIEVE IN THE MOON // I'D BE WORRIED IF YOU DIDN'T

the sun had set.
this time she looked to the moon for answers.
god hadn't helped her ever
but she still looked up to the sky.
it was crying now,
like her,
always.

LEVOTHYROXINE DA TING

she hated that they brought up her illness every time she was angry or moody.

'DID YOU TAKE YOUR MEDICINE TODAY?'
'YES I FUCKING DID!'

she'd get even angrier. it didn't help her case. but she hadn't cared about what her family thought for years now.

these days, when faced with this degrading question, she wouldn't respond. but all the time, she'd be crying inside.

if only they knew.

it was a constant reminder that her emotions weren't in fact hers. was anything she ever felt real? did she TRULY feel anything, truly?

maybe that's the reason she was so temperamental. maybe that's why she felt so much.

she thought maybe she should actually stop taking the medicine. maybe this way she could truly feel. this way she could truly be herself?

R-LD

In the midst of the crowd of dirty men, four girls emerged. They obviously didn't belong there. - The Red-Light District.

They briskly walked past the rush of middle-aged men picking out their next treat. The girls tried to explain their anger to their naive friend who was unbeknownst to what was going on.

The naive friend slowed down and peered into a window. 'Slut' - the word easily rolled off her tongue. She wasn't a frequent user of this word, but she felt the need to shout it tonight. She didn't exactly know why she said it as well, but she soon realised that it didn't give her the satisfaction she craved. She was now just like the rest of them. Men.

She felt disgusted. So she quickly apologised silently to herself as if somehow telepathy existed and the woman behind the glass would be able to comprehend and accept her apology.

She walked faster now to catch up to her friends. She wondered what they would think if they ever found out how much of a contradiction she was.

she sits on the floor. it's comfortable. she messages people she shouldn't really care about. she thinks to herself: 'why do i care so much'. she always wonders this.

THE ITALIAN BARMAN WHO WATCHED AS SHE PLAYED PIANO

She walked into the pub and asked: 'do you have free wifi?', in which the barman replied, 'yes'. She then proceeded to set up her laptop and workbook around a newly coated table and old chesterfield sofa. 'Don't worry, i'll buy a drink in a second', she reassured the man. They both laughed.

She knew she didn't HAVE to explain herself, but she felt the need to. That's who she was. She was the reassurer.

ABYSMAL CYMBAL

As she got off of the bus, she purposely decided not to step on the shadow of a cross that was made on the ground by a lamppost reflecting over a rectangular road sign. She wondered why she made such an effort to not tread on this symbol.

Why was she so respectful of a symbol that meant nothing to her?

She fast-walked home, because she knew she was later than she had told her parents she would be. She wanted to move out every day.

The reason - so obvious. She was constantly treading on crosses at home.

She wished she could tell every new person she met to not be scared of how truthful she was. to not call her weird in the wrong way. to take everything she said seriously, because even jokes have truth in them. to not hold back on anything. to not be the person who says: 'oh no, it's nothing, don't worry.' to be able to talk freely with her. to be themselves around her. even if they would never meet again. so at least she would know that she had a true conversation. so she would know that at that moment, they were truly themselves.

How could she look up to her now?

11:25pm. Pinks was home earlier than usual. As she walked up the stairs, she was surprised to see the light was still on in her room. She shared the room with her sister who was always asleep when she came home. Her sister was older than her by 3 years. They had their ups and downs. They were closer at earlier stages in their lives. Now, they joked here and there. 

She opened the door to see her sister, Sweetie, applying lipstick slowly in front of the wardrobe mirror.  

Sweetie asked: 'does this colour suit me?' in which Pinks kindly yet truthfully, as always, replied: 'not really, it's too bright.' Sweetie continued: 'you know, I think I've perfected how to wear lipstick, and now I'm going onto foundation.'  

Sweetie saw the immediate shock in her sister's face. She knew Pinks was disappointed in her. So she quickly decided to explain herself as if she knew she was in the wrong and needed to prove her point.  

'It's a part of growing up. THIS IS WHAT YOU DO. You know, it might sound stupid but I've noticed, even in the work place, looks really DO matter.' 

As these words were being forced out of Sweetie's mouth, Pinks thought about how much her sister had changed. They were once on the same page when it came down to wearing make-up. –They both agreed they’d never wear it. What was once their strong, shared view, was now like empty promises their elder sister used to make to them. 

She quickly felt alone. Everything had just changed. 

Pinks walked slowly back to her bed. She had never felt more disgusted by her sister's words than that moment. How could she mutter such nonsense? Was her sister implying that, she, too, would have to start wearing make-up, as it was a part of ‘growing up’? 

How could she look up to her now? Not that she ever did, past the age of 15. 

She felt betrayed. She WAS betrayed. The only belief she shared with her sister was now shattered. Just like their relationship. The little closeness they had, was now fading even more. 

'Well, goodnight Pinks' said Sweetie apologetically. 

'Okay, goodnight' Pinks replied. She was a mixture of disgraced, angry, and most of all, sad. 

the new and distant driver

She got into the taxi and was shocked to see an African driver, instead of her usual Asian one. Shocked is an overstatement. She just wasn’t expecting it. She wasn’t used to change. She thought to herself for a split second: ‘am I racist?’ She knew she wasn’t but she still questioned it, just like everything else in life.  

To break the awkward silence as she got into the car, she said with excitement: ‘your car smells like cherries!’ This just made the silence more awkward, as the man didn’t respond.

As the new and distant driver started driving, he, too, could feel the silence. So he decided to turn the radio on to fill in the gaps of what he thought could have been a shit conversation with a customer he’d never see again.

OG African music started playing. He instantly changed the channel. From afrobeat to British news.

Why did he change it? Was he embarrassed of the music he liked? Was he embarrassed of his culture, his heritage? Did he think she would be disgusted by it? If only he knew how much she liked and appreciated this genre. If only he knew she was going to see Femi Kuti at a festival the next day.

He pulls up just before her house and turns the radio off. She pays him the usual - £4.50, and exits the vehicle.

She hears him turn the radio on again. Not British news this time.

kindness goex a long weigh

'Kindness really does go a long way', she thought to herself as she recalled a moment that proved to her that people do appreciate the little things.

As she waited to use the only ladies toilets in the academy, Adam walked, seemingly carefree, out of the guys toilets. They exchanged warm, yet longing smiles. And he asked, before leaving the building: 'you not coming?', a platonic invitation to join him; in which she replied jokingly: 'i'm not just standing here for no reason'. They both laughed and said their farewells.

She smiled, again, this time to herself and at the fact that someone who didn't have much significance to her, showed her compassion.

She realised that he was nice to her because, well, she was nice to him.

She remembered that she always said 'hi' to him even though he was shy and rarely ever said it first. She also recalled the time she liked a post on Facebook where he had exclaimed his happiness over getting great grades in his previous course. He appreciated that.

As she entered the toilet, she thought again: 'it's the little things that count'.

marriage.

Everyone has that random business pen. You don’t know where you got it from; you didn’t buy it, nor did you steal it. It’s just a pen, really, until you read the logo. And even then, it’s still just a pen. Like life.

Its 9:15pm. She sits in class hoping for her lecturer to finish early so she can catch an earlier train home. As the lecturer gives his twelfth anecdote, at least, of the night, her eyes wonder down to her pen. The pen she had been using on and off throughout the course. She was semi-loyal to it.

Fading in and out of a communal class discussion, she began to analyse the pen. - Red. Thick. Black ink. It wrote: ‘CHOCORAMA LTD – SPECIALISTS IN WEDDINGS’. This made her think about marriage.

At one point she liked to think that she would get married. And in the long run, it would be a successful marriage. She really did believe in the concept of it. But recently, she realised that a lot of things don’t work out, and that the concept of it, in general, sounded very suffocating and theist to her.

She did, however, believe in ‘love at first sight’. Although she hadn’t witnessed it first-hand, she believed it could happen. It’s funny because she didn’t believe in being with someone ‘forever’, for more than obvious reasons. And she couldn’t quite grasp the idea of a ‘soul mate’, probably because she was still contemplating whether or not a soul was in the equation of life and death. But she did believe in love.

Her parents - always close to divorce. How could she ever believe in marriage?

DON’T LIVE IN REGRET. ACT IN THE NOW.

She hit the dance floor and was met with a compliment on her dance moves by a handsome stranger. As she danced freely to funk music, one of her favourite genres, the stranger laughed: ‘I like you’.  This instantly reminded her of another incident where these exact words were muttered. An incident that saw regret in her eyes. An incident that she remembered so clearly.

She was at that stage in uni where you mingle with different groups of people to see whom you get along with and where you fit in. She wore her System Of A Down t-shirt and played table tennis better than everyone else. He wore a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt and admired both her taste in music and her athleticism.  She made a joke whilst playing and he laughed with: ‘I like you’.

She always wanted to speak to him more as she knew they’d both get along well. But they were in different cliques at this stage of uni now. And she thought it was too late to start a conversation.

She snaps back to the dance floor.

It clicked. – DON’T LIVE IN REGRET. ACT IN THE NOW.

So she danced with this handsome stranger until it was time for her to leave for work.

I'M GOING TO START WRITING IN THIRD PERSON NOW. IT'S MORE INTERESTING IN PROSE. FIRST PERSON IS BORING, BUT PUT YOURSELF IN THIRD PERSON AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A BEST SELLER.

'PUT YOURSELF IN THIRD PERSON AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A BEST SELLER' - POSSIBLE NAME OF A BOOK I MAY OR MAY NOT PUBLISH IN THE FUTURE.

i need to write this [ 00:50ish // 17/04/15 ]

i’m so sad. who do i tell? i look to twitter. noone will care. i look to my best friend but i don’t wanna be a downer on her birthday.

i’m crying now. i wonder if he’s listening. if he’s even there. i always wonder. tonight i ask out loud: ARE YOU THERE? WHY AM I ALWAYS CRYING? WHY AM I ALWAYS SAD? no reply. of course? i expected this. 

i go to the mirror. i do something i was scared to do before now - look at myself in the mirror in the dark. my tears are distracted. i watch myself for a few seconds before asking out loud again: IF YOU’RE THERE, SHOW ME A SIGN. no response. again. i didn’t expect this. for some reason i thought something would happen.

i walk back to my bed to feel the very tears that slowed down whilst staring at my reflection pick up speed again.

// STOP ANIMAL TESTING // ACT NOW // FISH HAVE FEELINGS //

http://www.peta.org/action/action-alerts/urge-the-fda-to-end-painful-tests-on-animals/

So, below is brief letter i wrote to FDA for this cause and i hope everyone who reads this understands the necessary importance of putting a stop to these inhumane 'experiments'. 

________________________________________________________________________

'IT'S OKAY TO EAT FISH BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE ANY FEELINGS'‏

*hello, person who is reading this, please could you pass this on to someone who will read this and would consider or hopefully will take action. Sorry for sending it here, hope it's not spam and an interesting read (if you want to or are just bored out of your brain at work); couldn't find a valid email address for my 'rant' on the website*

HELLO,

Now, i wasn't going to start my email like this as we all know how highly cliche is it to start an 'essay' with a definition. My English teacher taught me better. However, when i think of 'animal testing' one of the first words that comes to my mind (and probably many others) is: 'CRUEL'. So yh, what is the 'actual' definition of 'cruel' then? Well, trusty google says it means: 'wilfully causing pain or suffering to others, or feeling no concern about it'. I want to focus on the last part - 'feeling no concern about it'....... Firstly, the fact that animal testing is linked to cruelty shouldn't and obviously isn't a big shocker, as we have all seen the vids and reports,  but it's really quite scary to think that when the lab people/scientists/illuminati test on these poor animals they don't feel remorse. ARE YOU SAVAGES? I so very hope not, as i find it hard to believe that such evil can live in this world that when they are torturing (already quite ruthless behaviour) 'innocent' animals, they feel no empathy..... Why are human lives more valuable than animals? (this is for a different discussion)  

Also, it honestly saddens me to think that the people who work here (could) have pets of their own. I mean what household doesn't have a cat, dog, zebra, hamster these days? How can someone conduct callous tests on animals they have no yet attachment to, then come home and stroke their dog? (euphemism game is high)

Furthermore, the main reason for this email is to RE-inform you that there are OF COURSE other NON-ANIMAL TESTING/NON-CRUEL ways to make drugs and help humans. SO, why not use them?! Although i'd like to say 'life isn't about money', i know that's not necessarily true. But to be honest, being a good person and not harming innocent animals HEAVILY outweighs making money and profit, in my eyes.

To be honest, i  could go on for days about this topic (as vague as i am), as i feel quite strongly about animals, although you may not be able to tell with my humour, if you gather it. But, i wish that as a human, you could stop this CRUELTY. A LIFE IS A LIFE. Please stop testing on ALL animals, even rats (as i think they aren't protected by the law). EVERY CREATURE HAS FEELINGS. EVEN FISH (referring to nirvana's 'something in the way' - i had always hoped KURT was being sarcastic with the lyrics that is the title of this email, as obviously they do have feelings, but i just don't know). Also, FISHING IS CRUEL.

Thank you reading my email which i wrote in hurry as i have to go to work. And i hope to hear back from you soon (a reply of any sort to acknowledge that you have read this would be great). 

PS - yes, i'm very vague and haven't done any present research for this email, but i know how i feel and what is wrong and what is right. I've recently been trying to live a more moral (ironic since it derives from religion aha) way of life, and i just feel like maybe if you comprehend what i'm saying (and the MANY MANY other people who have fought for this cause), you will put a stop to this CRUEL practice.

PPS - 'innocent' is indented because i don't truly know if the animals being tested on are innocent or not, HOWEVER there is still no excuse.... Don't you just love how the justice system works? People who believe in god make judgements on whether the defendant gets to live or die? (capital punishment is again a topic for another discussion) 

PPPS - yes, i know the pssssssssss''s's are supposed to go after the farewell, but i worry you won't bother reading everything,... as i attachment issues. (=

Thamina

(semi-recent vegetarian)

_____________________________________________________________________

PLEASE SHOW YOUR SUPPORT BY WRITING TO FDA TO EXPRESS YOUR OBVIOUS DISAPPROVAL. 

ONCE AGAIN, WE ARE ALL LIVING CREATURES. 

LET'S ALL BE KIND TO ONE AND OTHER AND LIVE IN PEACE...

TOGETHER.

ENHANCING SYMPATHY? ENHANCING RACISM.

http://www.standard.co.uk/news/world/heroic-muslim-man-saved-jewish-hostages-during-paris-siege-by-hiding-them-in-chiller-9970051.html


This article is disgusting. It emphasises the view that it is highly rare for someone from one religious sector to help someone from a different one. IT IS DIVIDING US. Articles like this shouldn’t exist. 

The fact that a lot, A LOT of newspapers do this is disgraceful. Well, anyone who has read a newspaper, even one, will know that they have been doing this for years. Quite frankly, the ban of these sorts of articles, will essentially, in the long run, reduce racism. But is it too late? 

Moreover, if this carries on, it will be enforced in the minds of the young that it is a rare occasion when people of different religions/race/ethnicity help one and other. When it in fact is not rare at all. It’s just being a good human. 

Why isn’t it a shock when a Muslim man saves a cat from a Christian household? Because noone cares. Newspapers know EXACTLY how to target us, know EXACTLY how to make us sympathise, and know EXACTLY what will make us tick.

We’re all creatures. Let’s just help one and other. And live in unbiased morality, impartiality.

**of course this isn’t the first piece of writing to have done this, but I was ready today, now, today. INIT.