Some Lines...
• I once wrote that some nights I don't sleep; now it's
every night that I don't sleep and it's as serenely peaceful and brimmed with
joy as those singular late nights.
• moral conundrum: would the animators themselves put the word out there that
they've achieved such significant levels of detail in Frozen II as 'to have the
reflections visible in the eyeballs of the characters', or was there someone
who spotted it by just watching the movie? This casts the question that what if
those who have an eye for great work stop existing? Would people still put
great yet subtle efforts in their work knowing that the contemporary audience
is too hasty and shallow to ever be able to notice it or for that matter,
respect or appreciate it?
• and that's when the almighty pigeon said: 'that is why I shit on people.'
• sometimes I hate how optimistic and gay I sound when I read what I wrote in
past.
• when you take one's opinions against them, do so with the context. In the
context lies the whole picture.
• As the centuries progress into the future which marks no definite ending,
could it be said so for the centuries BCE? As no definite number for future, thus
no definite starting number of past?
• Let's confront it: I'm not (what I think or believe) as
wise/different/better/lucky as I'm said to be by others. Besides, did anyone
ever proclaim that I was? Maybe. Yes. They did. But why take their compliments so
seriously where they themselves are giving it from a place that's just as bad,
or worse? But honestly, I don't have original ideas. I latch onto whatever I
read, or watch, or get obsessed about. If you are asking for proofs, just look
back. Look back and you'd feel disgusted and ashamed at your own sense of being
wise and thoughtful and intellectual. Regardlessly, we continue. We continue to
read, watch movies no one would, do things that those around us won't find
interest it, thus keep feeding into our loneliness and later feel bad by it.
What a shame! And if that's not enough, recall your soliloquies, and you'd know
what a drama you are!
• One of the things I struggle most with, psychologically, and one also which
suffocates me at times is that: I can't seem to step outside of my own life
perceptions; I fail to step in and fully witness life from other people's
perceptions.
• Bollywood songs have a significantly instant effect on making you feel sad
and romantic at the same time.
• If you, the future self reading, want to know how I was doing in a particular
time or year, go back and see/read the reviews of the books I read at that
time. Either the books affected my moods or vice verca.
• The emotional intensity blinds us to our miserably strong capacity of
endurance.
• You little piece of shit, why do you even bother? What is it with your
miserably naive hope of meeting your fantastical thoughts in a reality too
unconcerned for you? She is right not to care; you are miserable, it's not her
fault.
• Of thinking about her obsessively, the first thought of waking up, on mind
while brushing, thinking still when walking out of the door - and then
remembering who she went out with, who she said she was with last time, and of
doubting it all together, about what she might be doing all this time that we
are separated - ultimately, not being able to do anything. Gut-wrenched, sad,
and angry, all so quickly, all so repeatedly, all so worryingly.
• She even has the power to hurt me in my dreams. Two photos with another guy,
and I woke up with my stomach aching, panicked, and gutted as if it had really
happened. But it was worse actually.
• A reading dilemma: how of much of a novel is based on the author's life? It
keeps me thinking while reading.
• This moment, as we sit on toilet talking, me and Tom, should be a solid,
enduring, workable, and a rather novel feeling that we can play it cool as
well. Indifference is available at our disposal too, and at will. Enough of
this bullshit.
• If you only wait it out, that dis-ease of loneliness as it falls after iftar
or before it, for sometime, maybe post something online, find something old,
listen to a favorite song, watch something good, go out for a drink, talk to
yourself, or sit quiet and think and then do what comes to mind - then, it goes
away. And what follows is sometimes serenity, other times the merriness,
aliveness, and cheerfulness of singlehood.
• Each time you cry for her, without letting her know you cried for her, you
win a battle. And these wins will help you move on; for once you bear and learn
how to be sad alone, cry alone, you'll need her lesser, and lesser, and lesser,
and then, no more.
• The source of your intense, sudden pain, mostly about her inviting and going
on a date with another boy - amidst other painful things done by her - is the
attachment you still feel, but that which is not nesccessarily there anymore.
In fact, it's long been un-attached. Then, you can take solace in the FACT, my
dear, that it is over. You are no longer attached to her. Therefore, everything
she had done, has done recently, is doing, and is soon or later to do,
shouldn't affect you at all; the same way other, any other, girl's actions and
feelings doesn't affect you. Know! that without the attachment, which is long
cut off, she is as ordinary and unconsequential as any other girl. And that my
friend, is your way out of this unending misery: to keep telling yourself that
she, and everything she does, isn't attached to you anymore in any way, good or
bad. It shouldn't matter!
• Of people who have gone on to make something of themselves and who are now
living their planned or surprising dreams, when asked if they ever thought
they'd be where they are, I have heard the same answer time and again:
'absolutely not!' Which should mean that, not as absolutely as absolutely they
say their NO, but in some candid possibility our future too might be one which
we aren't even able to dream of right now. And it's not just a groundless,
wishful thinking, but one in which we'd have efforted our utmost best; where
we'd have honed the awaiting opportunities.
• خاموشی سے ادا ہو رسمِ دوری / کوئی ہنگامہ برپا کیوں کریں ہم
• Will I Iook back at my afternoon walks, being pushed out of the house on
these warm hours of the day out of uneasiness and troublesome excitement, with
such degrading helplessness and melancholic recallings as I do of my previous
afternoon walks after my first breakup - as I felt restless, empty, quietly
agressive, and just plain out grief stricken. Or - these would be merry
memories; memories of listening to poetries on long walks under not-so harsh
weather?
• It's 1:15. I want to cry for I am lonely; cry because I am missing her; cry
because I wait for her email, yet I know to which I won't respond. But I am
tired too, and sleep is heavy on me. Yet I can't sleep. I can't sleep. Minutes
pass, one by one, and then a bunch at once - but my insides are restless, and
mind is thinking, and my body is sweating.
• Are you happy? No. (Last Sehri)
• Love how Tyrone says 'shiiitt'.