little green men.

you are the walls around you. your own only friend. you sit across from yourself and drink your coffee - you hold your own hand at the movies - and you quietly put away your third cigarette, and cajole yourself to the 'better'.

April, is a life too dreary - a life too empty for yours, mine and ours. Only once you wish you sat together and blew your worries away, like children to bubbles into the blue, carefree, flamingo sky. You close your eyes and smell the wind - no, wait...you are the wind, travelling aimlessly. you sit hand in hand, heart to heart, eye to eye - loving every moment - savouring it - and the only measure of time is the breath you take.

Have you ever heard of those little green men, that come from outer-space on big, beautiful spaceships and hide in your backyard shrubs. The little green men that everybody hears about but most live their entire lives without seeing one. I want distance to be our little green man. I want it to be something we both hear about, watch in movies, read in stories but never really experience. I want us to always sit hand in hand, heart to heart and eye to eye - so you're always a whisper away when i need you.

sperm bank.

a bird walks in on me while i sleep. i remember telling it not to ask me any questions. i don't have any answers. who said it's not okay to not make sense once in a while...your friends will still love you. and hopefully your family wouldn't lag much behind.

i have forever associated chinese burns with reality checks. i don't know why. i wish my mind came with an ikea instruction booklet. then maybe i could get together with some friends, drink some ribena, and eat some cookies and make sense of it.

drawers, elephants, hindu gods and thai chilli sweet chips. whatayy funtasteeknuss. throw in a snoring manish and a cheap indian movie and fun fun fun fun fun fun fun.

oh and red. and i'm talking to chuggi, so bhaloo.

-

red, i'm guessing.

how red is my shirt? so very very red.

RED. red red red red red red red!!! bahahahahahah red.

so SO sleepy. big indian manish boy is asleep. i' m not.

RED RED rEd ReD r3d red reD reeeeeed!

the pen is red and so is the stapler.

so is my shirt. red.

*yawn*

*eats more skittles*

oh look, more red!

Play those blues

-

i loved it when we both breathed the same cold, nauseating london air..
:(

hmpf.. :P

to 3a.m walks and photography sessions, to bashing all the 'paki' kids who deserve not to live, to watching movies and crying in the end, to memories of gay beacon times, to retarded computer projects in the lab, to painduness and jihaan mubarak, to tunnels, fagatrons, starbucks coffees and ching chong (still not funny), to inadverdant homosexual jokes, to dirty straigtened long hair in mani's bed and thinking of people sitting on your face, not in the good way.

thanks, bitch.
happy birthday.

Tummy-drum.

And now we rise and we are everywhere.
And now we rise from the ground.
And see she flies, she is everywhere.
See she flies all around.

-

Rant.

you walk on empty sidewalks with a bag full of fat, irritating books slashed across your back scraping into the skin on the back of your shins. you hate it. you hate how the 'pretend' snow taunts you ever so frequently. you stick out your tongue for it, but it doesn't land there. not quite the sensation you'd been longing for. you feel hate. big, massive, ugly amounts of hate. yet this walk from the station is the best thing in your life right now.

i miss lahore. i miss my people, my home. i miss how my cellphone wouldn't stop ringing all day. i want to go to zahra's house and badger her mom for food. i want the coke in her kitchen and and fill our time with long talks of nothingness and laughter. i want to drive with fatimah in the backseat of a car, i want to sit in ukays's room and diss the fuck outta him, i want to crib about faiz's food and complain about feroz, i want to go see zareen khala and secretly observe jay's room again, i want to go on long drives with ahmed smoking stacks of cigarettes, i wat to argue with zahra asad outside tuition centres, i want to sneak from tuition centres to sunnainahs house, i want to kick qasim in the knees for having long hair,i want to strut around debate competitions with daniyal looking all important, i want to fight with zohaib, i want to sit in the computer lab with abdul and work on my project, i want to talk to habeeba and bug the hell out of her, i want to dance with crispy, hoor, nida, abbass and mysbah in SC-2, i want to be perverted with anam, i want rasti to slap me during concerts and i want everything i once called 'my life' back again.

thank you for being there mani, everytime ive needed you to be. for coming down when im sick, down or merely bored. for coming all the way to canary wharf to make sure i dont fall asleep, for not letting me feel like a fucking loner in the fucking dull grey country. i dont say it enough, but seriously..thanks.

saleha, you are my drive. my motivation. you make every minute of my life better, you make me realise that i'm still lucky to be alive, that i'm still loved. you're my every wish come true and more. i love you.

zahra, my biggest fear is drifting away from you. i'm scared that one day you'll realise that i'm too far away to be the same old 'dopey' that i once was, that one day we won't be the same. don't let that happen. ever.

i haven't slept. bye.

Whine.

Thinly Pinstriped coats and marmalade spreads. No wait, sugar-free marmalade spread.

whine. whine. whine.