Hey there! Pt. 2

Take off your shoes. Don't worry, this is dirt, but it's clean dirt. Like the Earth. The un polluted, pure parts of the Earth. Walking on this will actually make you feel better. So anyways, come on in, lonely soul. Yes, we have established the fact that you might not be a lonely soul. But if you are one of the rare people who have found their soulmate, please hold your tongue. You wouldn't want to offend your host? Especially since you are in the host. I mean in my brain. But here we are, and off we go once more on the tour.
So I know last time our goodbyes were a bit rushed and abrupt. What can I do? Management had a fit. Management was still so against having you over again. But what can I do? I had to.
So that's the path we took last time. This time, Management told me to lay out the rules before we went inside. I know, tedious. Anyways: just don't touch anything, ESPECIALLY A MEMORY, and keep to the path. Stick with me because trust me, you do NOT want to get lost in here.
So I thought I would take you to the Insomniac Sector. This is where I am when I can't sleep. You might find that this is covered with crazy colours, but that's just how it is. So come over here. You see this tube? It's like a tunnel but I don't think anyone can fit down here (even if you are skinny and small enough don't try it) but this is also the most unfortunate connection. This connects my brain to my legs. In other parts, similar hollow tubes connect my legs to those other parts. So basically, when I can't sleep, I get this urge to move my legs, hence the tossing and turning. Moving on, we can see over here how the Bad Memory Sector is linked to this part too: every stupid and cringy thing I may have done or said is revisited and re-evaluated. As you can see: the Over-Analysing Sector is also connected. The Fear of The Unknown and The Fear of the Near Future are also located behind that black box. The Fears are actually part of this Sector and we just provide connections when they are required in other Sections or in other times. I can't open this black box in your presence. I'll tell you what it contains: an overwhelming concentrated colour fusion. Opening this will keep you awake for hours, until you feel as if you are loosing yourself and your soul into this. After that the Colours will trick you into the Void. Here, the Void will strip you of your identity and defence. The Void will strip you until you are raw and bare and then it will target you with everything you have ever avoided or defended yourself against. You think you're so smart that you can just choose to not go into the Void? Do you not know of the sinister nature of these colours, enticing you with their ways, luring you in into a seemingly merry world and then… The Void. Many a man has lost his sanity here. You remember when I took your coats at the door? I didn't just take your coats. I took away your material existence. So take a look at yourself. What are you? A bare soul. Vulnerable. So the only material existence here is the one that I possess. Nevertheless, let us continue!
Any questions? No?
Your sanity?
My sanity? You see, this is my brain. My brain is the guardian of my sanity. So yes, I have been in the void, and yes, I have survived it.
The insomniac Sector gets its own access to the Eyes. You know the little innocent light of the street lamps outside which slips in through the tired old curtains and dances on the ceiling? My brain stares at the light until it reaches the intensity of the Sun and becomes unbearable. Aah the connection with the ears: this is what makes me think that my brother breathing in his sleep sounds like a train going around in my head, whistling away in my ears.
This is the overall-over sensitivity of the entire body: usually, I can sleep anywhere no matter how hard or soft it is. But in insomniac times, the slightest bump feels like a huge knife trying to pierce my skin.
Over here, this is the Past and opposite this is the Future. I spend a lot of time inside these rooms. The space in between is (quite obviously) the Present but I guess during Insomniac times being in the present gives me anxiety, even though the anxiety is in anticipation of the future….
So here we are in the Conversation Room. Here I go through any conversations I may have had, online or offline, and think how I could've answered differently or said something wittier if only I had taken an entire insomniac night to think before I answered. Not that there's something wrong with what has been said. But what's an insomniac night without over-analysing and worrying about something completely useless and unproductive, right?

Anyways. I don't want you to start thinking you know everything about me or atleast about this Sector. There's lots that has been left unsaid. It's safer that way. That's the door right there, if you want you can leave, if you want we can have a coffee or something. It's up to you but I won't show you more. I think this is enough for this time.
So what do you say? Coffee or "Rab Rakhan"?


Dry and cracked lips. A face already powdered. Two fat fingers dipped into the lip balm, and then smeared all over those lips. Trying and trying to hide. The dryness, the cracks. Anybody could’ve told she bit her lips when she was nervous. Like right now. She took out some lipstick and put it over the lip balm. Her dress seemed to be too tight for the new spots her acne had left on her back. Nevertheless, she walked out the door, feeling ugly in spite of everything she had done not to.


“Ugh look what she’s wearing,” her friend whispered. “Ugly.”

“Who? What?” She answered carelessly.

“Her. Look.” And so she did. Beautiful jet black straight hair. A waist that thin. A face done up to perfection. Even if her lips were a bit cracked. The dress wasn’t ugly, it just made the rest of them feel uglier than their insides. She suddenly felt as if her own jewellery was somewhat outdated and shouldn’t have been worn at all. The earrings were the pride of her family. It was family tradition to wear them at this dinner every year. But maybe her brown hair didn’t complement her jewellery the way her mother’s had.


Well now was not the time to feel so conscious about her lips. Ugly though they did seem, to her. Now was the time to feel proud of herself and show off. That is, until she hadn’t seen those two girls whispering in her direction. A taller one with an amazing jaw line. And the other, slightly shorter one with hazel eyes. And what amazing jewellery. A complete vintage look. The way she wore that chain around her neck complemented her hair perfectly. And one could tell her hair was naturally like that. The shorter one looked away carelessly. And doubt started in her mind. Perhaps her own hair were to plain.


Two arms grasping the bars of an iron gate. A body trying to gather the will to let go and stand without any support. Black spots formed infront of her eyes every time she blinked. Parched lips and a smudged nose picked up the aroma of a feast here.

A black car pulled up. It was big. Bigger than the cars s he had seen in her nine years.

A man came out. Black suit. Red tie. “Out! Out you bloody little beggar! Out with you hideous beasts!”

The will was summoned for one last move. The bony arms that dragged her into the bushes beside the gate collapsed as they found fresh dirt. Her knees buckled as she saw two beautiful ladies inside the gate and a third one getting out of the car. The last thing her innocent eyes saw was the look of disgust and hatred as the man pulled out something shiny from the car.


The woman must have been around thirty. Probably less. A black fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. The air of uncertainty looming around her. The driver had gotten out to get the wheel chair. Some peasant must’ve been blocking the gate. He didn’t seem too happy about that. The door opened and she placed one hand on his shoulder as he helped her in the wheelchair. Even this simple act was too tiring for her these days. She breathed deeply. Not at this party. She would get through it. Her hand instinctively went to the area above her left knee, where her leg had been amputated last year. It still hurt. A year was not enough to get used to being legless. Especially at social events like these. People judged too much. And stared. Like right at this moment, she could feel the gaze of a black haired girl from one end of the lawn and a brown haired girl with hazel eyes at the other end. She wondered what they might think about her. 

And from somewhere, just somewhere behind her, she could feel an accusing glare that seemed to penetrate through her. 

How do you think it felt?

Hey, remember how we all met that Sunday? Do you know how excited I was? Do you know how depressed I felt when I came back home?

‘Oh really, why?’

WHY? Why? Well let’s see, how do you think it feels to be sitting around all your friends and being left out?

How do you think it feels to be the only “sad” phoneless person who supposedly has “no life” because their not on social media?

You know of the three hours we were there, we took more than 500 pictures. AND i’m not even exaggerating. The endless ‘selfies’, ‘group pics’, ‘candids’ and whatnot. Honestly, we took more pictures than we talked.

How do you think it felt when EVERYONE was talking about their social media and your the only one who isn’t? “Hey you didn’t like my post.” “You know what she commented on this?!” “Add me on Instagram! Now! I need more followers!” I mean seriously, why don’t you all go and live inside your phones, somehow.

How do you think i felt when you, my supposedly “best friend” ignored me when I tried to make conversation of some meaning? Oh, right. We were meeting after such a long time. You didn’t want a heavy conversation. Or maybe you guys didn’t want a conversation at all? I mean we were either taking pictures or eating, right? I should have caught on.

And then I thought we were actually going to have some fun when you guys pointed out the seesaw. Like it used to be when we were in school. But can you understand my confusion after everyone deserted it after the posing-and-posting-picture-on-fb? I mean, come on.

And then I was confused when everyone decided to go out for a walk in the lawn-in the sun. Normally going in the sun would be a preposterous idea I mean who walks in the heat? But hey it was the ideal location for taking pictures.

It used to be more fun when I was a kid. At least I had some friends to talk to. Now the only time we talk is through WhatsApp and I’m so fed up of this texting business!

So just so you know, you guys have let me down. It’s been two weeks and you said you would read my blog and tell me what you think. And really I guess you’re so busy with stuff that you didn’t have the time. Like you were that Sunday. Yeah I understand going through your snap-stories takes time. I know. It’s okay, I guess. I didn’t feel hurt or anything, you know.It’s cool.


If only I could be

Isolated, left alone, uncared for,

By all and no hypocrites

Should befall my path of misery

Then I should let the cry

Escape these lips with freedom

The cry of hurt and pain and grief

The tears should I then allow to drop

I would be at last at liberty

I wouldn’t strive for friendship

Nor would I be grieved at the loss of it

This air I could at last exhale

The eyes would be allowed to see

The body would move at liberty

The hands allowed to feel.

I would not be used

No hypocrisy should affect me

No feeling could control me

No person could arrest me

In something too powerful

The magic once charming would loose its charm

And I would be at last free!


If only I could be…

(Something I wrote when I was thirteen)

Silent Moments

There was a King who wanted to travel to a land, and he ordered that he be brought clothes to wear for the journey. He did not like the clothes he was brought and asked for other clothes, until he was brought what he liked and changed into them. He also asked that he be brought an animal to ride, but he did not like the animal and was brought another animal; he rode the best one among them. Satan came to him and blew pride in his nose, and the King responded positively. The King proceeded in a royal procession of horses, and he did not even look at his subjects out of pride. A man with modest clothes came to him and greeted him, but the King did not reply. That man held the rope of the king’s horse, prompting the King to order him,

‘Release the bridle. You have done a grave thing.’

The man said, ‘I have a need from you.’

The King said, ‘Wait until I come down.’

The man said, ‘No, right now,’ and kept his grip on the bridle of the King’s horse, until the King said,

‘Mention your need.’

The man said, ‘It is a secret.’

So the King lowered down his head and that man told him the secret, ‘I am the Angel of Death,’ and the King’s face changed colour and his tongue began to tremble.

He said, ‘Let me go back to my family, so that I might do some things and say good bye to them.’

The Angel of Death said, ‘No, By Allah! You will never see your family or estates again.’

So he captured the King’s soul, and the King fell like a brick.

“And the stupor of death will come in truth: This is what you have been avoiding!”

-The Quran (50:19)

(The above has been taken from a book by Abdul-Malik Al-Qasim named ‘Silent Moments’)