Skip to main content

Something Like That

Whenever I sit to write things, I find myself at a loss of words. It's like I have an idea and I want it to materialise but the variety of my emotions and impulses mix together and they choke me. 

 But maybe I do say what I want to but it's still not quite enough; it's like following one wing of a fan with one eye and watching it turn into a blur; it's like swimming while it rains and watching that one raindrop your gaze was following merge into the bigger body of water...it's like drowning in that pool.

Something like that.
- Anahita Dawar 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Year's Eve

"All girls with tattoos are sluts" Yes, if a girl gets a tattoo of her lover on her body, she is a slut. A guy who gets a dragon tattooed on his bicep is a stud. A girl who gets her mother's name tattooed on her arm is also a slut.  A guy who gets his mother's name tattooed on his arm is such a devoted "Mammas boy". A girl who gets a paw made on her wrist with her dog's name in his/her remembrance is obviously a slut too. "Girls should be at home when it gets dark because they need to be protected." "It's not that we don't trust you, we don't trust the world." Yeah, because that's the solution to everything, isn't it? Just lock the girls away. Keep them out of sight. Don't teach them how to fight, just keep them safe. Educate them, but don't let them use their education and liberate themselves from these notions. Make them read the most inspiring books about the world and the revolutions that have ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Absurdity

We've grown up now. Is it okay to allow myself to feel pain now?  Because we have grown up. We can't hide behind our age, we aren't supposed to be teenage drama queens anymore. Love always hits us in the face, as hard as it did before. We think we have learned to fall and then balance but just as you love changes, pain does too. Pain doesn't fall out of your body through your tears, it hits the walls of your skin vehemently, struggles to find an outlet. Sometimes tear glands don't work. When you see a picture of the one you love in the arms of another, when you wake up in the middle of the night to check your god forsaken phone with the hope to see their name on your display, when you smell the rain that surprised you pleasantly in the hot summer only to remind you that it feels just like last year when you were in their arms, in the same balcony. Your skin tingles outside, your organs tangle inside. And here I am standing in my bathroom, looking at the moon, liste...
Post a Comment
Read more

Daldal

He was unlike any boy she had met. She was intoxicated by the thought of him. He was fascinated by the idea of her. Neither of them had any idea of what was going on in the other's head, neither of them knew what the other person was thinking. She wanted to be his best friend. She wanted to be his sworn confidante. No, she didn't know him at all. All she knew about him was his name, his passion for music and that he was a huge John Mayer fan. She had no idea of what she was getting into or how she got in but she couldn't control the attraction she felt towards him. She knew that there was something very dangerous about him. She knew it the second she spoke to him for the first time ever... But there was just something very captivating about the eyes he kept hidden from the world; there was a mystic magic that the compelling and almost magnetic force of his gaze seemed to display and yet surreptitiously concealed behind the domains of his self-created psychosocial barriers...
1 comment
Read more