just found out i still have that old poetry book where my high school self thought writing about existential dread would fix my trauma, like a personal therapy session written in verse, and now i laugh because i guess it just helped me avoid actual therapy for longer.
یار, کیا بتاؤں تمہیں، پچھلے ہفتے دوپہر کا کھانا چھوڑ دیا، شام کو فریج کھولی تو دیکھا کہ بس ایک ٹماٹر اور آدھا پیاز باقی ہے، پر جھنجھلاہٹ یہ کہ جیسے ہی باہر گیا، میرا مٹی کا کھلونا موٹر سائیکل والی آواز میں چلا گیا، اب میں اپنے ٹماٹر کی سیٹی پر قہقہہ لگارہا تھا، کوئی سمجھتا نہیں۔
remember that one time my cousin brought potato salad to the family gathering while everyone pretended like they didn’t know he had broken a few things that are NOT just in the kitchen? so here we are, eating his terrible potato salad, and smiling like a bunch of fools while he grins like he is a god, life is such a weird thing.
remember that one time my cousin brought potato salad to the family gathering while everyone pretended like they didn’t know he had broken a few things that are NOT just in the kitchen? so here we are, eating his terrible potato salad, and smiling like a bunch of fools while he grins like he is a god, life is such a weird thing.
kuch bhi nahi samajh aa raha tha, बस अपने कमरे में बैठी थी और उस पेपर के बारे में सोच रही थी जो कभी खत्म नहीं होता — کوئی سمجھتا نہیں کہ یہ سب کتنا مشکل ہے.