Tired…
Tired of waiting
Tired of being stood up
Tired of chasing for company
Tired of hoping that they’ll come to me
Tired of being passed over
Tired of hoping I’m next
Tired of being in the shadows
Tired of seeing them get lucky
Tired of being lied to
Tired of giving the lie the benefit of doubt
Tired of hypocrisy
Tired of playing the game as well
Tired of being rejected
Tired of letting myself be rejected
Tired of trying to understand
Tired of being misunderstood
Tired of being betrayed
Tired of giving them the chance to do so
Tired of believing
Tired of being jaded
Tired of being on my own
Tired of thinking I can’t be alone
Tired of doubting myself
Tired of letting other people letting me doubt myself
Tired of not being enough
Tired of letting myself not be enough
And tired of letting other people tell myself I’m not enough
Tired of hoping to get their approval
Tired of crying every night when I don’t
Tired of hoping that they’ll love me one day…
Tired of waiting for death
Tired of alot of things
But tired of being tired…
Hmph…
It’s been busy busy busy at the work-front – hence the gap in posts. The competition is going better than I hoped, and it’s good to see all is not lost in this sad world.
Although I find it pretty sick when I see people posting videos, blogs, clips that send messages of intolerance and hate. Such as a few videos I’ve seen on youtube regarding anti-Islam. Or facebook groups (you probably know what I’m talking about).
I’m not sad or upset because it is against Islam. I’m sickened by the fact that there are such people in the world who have no respect for other people’s religion, culture and values. Or such people who will do anything for attention or shock value. Or perhaps misguided people. Or even men and women who use religion to push their own non-religious agendas.
Whatever my belief or extent of belief in Islam may be, I’ve never learned to disrespect anyone else’s religion, even if it is Satanism. While I may disagree, I have never forced my beliefs on anyone, nor try to educate people on Islam by belittling or humiliating whatever religion or belief system they have. I know for a fact that I tell the truth whenever I talk about Islam to anyone who cares to know more. And I have complete faith in myself (and Islam), that my words and actions are enough.
My point of talking about anything religious was never with an intention of converting anyone. If there’s one thing I know about human nature, it’s that people don’t convert through brainwashing and persuasion. If they want to embrace a new set of ideals and beliefs, it’s because they are already discontent with their current one. If anything, educating a person about a religion just helps tipping them over to the new ideals.
Its a sad sad worl we live in now….
A Note
People keep asking me why my blog is so morbid and depressing. Honestly, I have no answer. All I can say is that what I write here is how I feel (albeit a slightly censored version of it).
My intention was always to have this as I would write it in my diary when I was younger. I find this relatively safer (no chance of my mom finding a book full of secrets). And I get a cheap thrill out of the anonymous interactivity.
My blog is only an attempt to record how I feel. Most times I wonder how I even live with myself. But I know that perhaps writing whatever I can tell and express…one day, someone will understand. Someone will read this and know that they aren’t alone. And perhaps them understanding might help me…or themselves. I don’t know.
If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that people will always disappoint you, whether they intended it or not. Those that didn’t intend it, I hope they’re sorry. And those that did intend it, and had the guts to admit it, I have respect for them.
However, those that would rather jump through hoops of fire than to admit that they did me wrong, I have nothing to say to them. Except perhaps that they rot in hell for not having a spine to admit doing me wrong, despite knowing it.
I always question everything in life. Especially myself. And there are some unanswered questions that leave me feeling…unfinished. While people might come up with answers that could answer those for me, they don’t cut it. They’re not enough. By simply saying “oh, he’s a jerk” or “what a retard” doesn’t satisfy me. It leaves room for even more unanswered questions.
I don’t even want to play the blame game. It isn’t even about who to blame. I…I just don’t know anymore.
The Importance Of The Telephone…
People underestimate the value and meaning of a phone call. In an ever-expanding world, yet shrinking to a ‘global village’, the phone-call is an essential, but undervalued means of communication.
The telephone is a subconscious meter that gauges your self-worth. Receiving a phone-call, be it friend or significant other, signifies that you are important to someone. That someone has you on their radar and therefore contacted you, be it work-related or a simple ‘I’ve been thinking of you’.
Hence, when your phone doesn’t ring the entire day, it makes you wonder whether anyone remembers you at all. It becomes even more tragic, in a pathetic way that is at best amusing at your expense, when the only person calling you is your mother. Even more so when even she does not deem it important to call you. It is one of the first signs of being a ‘doormat’ or ‘invisible’. If that is the case, best to probably chuck your phone out the window as it is about as useful as comb to a bald man.
It is also one of the root causes of discontent in a relationship, especially if the phone-calls seem to be unidirectional. Hence, if you begin to notice that you make more calls than receive, it’s probably a good time to delete and erase any numbers connected to that person(s), as it is obvious that the person(s) is either a)dead or b)not interested in you.
My policy in life is now that unless I feel like someone calls me continuously without my interference, I will reciprocate and call them on my own will occasionally. If I feel the urge to keep calling them back and feel that they are still not returning the favor, I will delete their number and avoid all form of contact to avoid temptation. I shall contact people only if it a)urgent and/or b)work-related. And my phone book is much lighter now. As is my SMS inbox.
Perhaps it is a good thing to be a cold-hearted bitch. But it doesn’t help the loneliness. In the end, bitchy ornot, empty phonebook or not, I’m still on my own.
*sigh* Bastards…all of them. Meh!
Insomnia…
I can’t sleep. And now I think I know why. Before I could escape into my own fantasy world. A world where I had a comfort corner. A place where I could snuggle under and feel safe and secure. And now that’s been taken away from me.
I don’t remember much of my dad. All I know now is of the disappointment I’ve felt the past few years. Of trying to seek his approval, but always just being a bit short of him saying “I’m proud of you”.And I’ve tried so hard. So hard to get him to say those four words. But I give up now. He’s never going to be proud of anything I do. And I’m tired of trying to get him to say that. I’m tired of trying to win his affection.
Then I thought of men who I held dear, never mind the fact that its ended, or even ended horribly. And each one of them have succeeded in fucking up any memories I kept that made me feel good about my pathetic little existence.
Now when I try to settle in and feel snug, I imagine being close. And then the nightmares begin. Each one of them screwing whatever peace I have left. I can’t keep staying awake. I need sleep. I can’t work or live like this. I’m going to go mad very soon. I already think I’m mad. I’m this close to not caring and ending it all. But I know the one fragile thread thats keeping me from taking that plunge is strong enough still.
And that thread is what will happen to my mom. That’s the only thing. I know now that if anything, God forbid, should happen to my mom, I will truly stop caring about my own existence. I’m done here. If I’m living, it is only because of my mom. I can’t take this anymore. I’m done. I pray to God everyday that my life ends soon. I’m done.
You won. Oh, and Ramadan Kareem….
A Moment…
Nb: The contrast isn’t great as this was shot mostly in the dark…
Now you know why I don’t like Atif Aslam…
Twilight Laments…
As I lay down and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars that twinkle on my ceiling, I realized something that saddened me to the core. Not in a melodramatic, filmi way that would get me into hysterics. Or even a sullen, depressed, sulky way. More like a resigned, defeated…hopeless way.
It saddens me to realize (and acknowledge) that I never meant anything to anyone. The days, weeks, months…and for some, years… that I spent creating and cherishing those moments of contentment and feeling secure in the knowledge that perhaps, at some moment, I was loved – all those moments I held dear to me…those meant nothing to them. Those precious capsules are tainted. They no longer hold that escape to a better time when my world seems crashing down.
I have no more good memories left. It’s like wanting to look back at your past – but with a cracked mirror. It’s not the same. You see tiny fragments of yourself trapped in ragged pieces of what was once pure and innocent. And when you try to hold on to a piece, hoping that piece will be enough – it cuts you instead.
Everything is a lie. I no longer believe in anything, and I don’t want to. Before I’d follow the mantra of ‘innocent till proven guilty’. But now I assume ‘guilty till proven innocent’. This world isn’t far from the world of glitz and glamor. Everyone wants to appear glitzy and glamorous.
But in the end they all lie. Behind the stardust is the sand and grime. The lies. People never mean what they say. And I too must learn to not say what I mean. And give those sweet little lies…
You won. I give up. I’m no longer whole. I’m broken, just like that mirror. You won. Just leave me alone…
That Lying, Cheating…
…Bastard!!!! I had the fortune (or misfortune) of finding out today that not only was Suhail spineless, but a big-time liar!!!!!
According to a recently-made acquaintance, he proposed to her shortly after we broke up. Now as far as I remember, he said we weren’t meant to be because of his mom. Well I guess there must have been more than the fact that his mom didn’t like me. I was just his ‘piece of ass’. It kinda hurts realizing that. But at least now I won’t have any rose-tinted, romantic illusion that we were ’star-crossed’ lovers and that he just didn’t love me enough to fight for his mom. Apparently, he never loved me at all.
And I guess I now know that guys don’t see me as marriage-material. It hurts understanding that. But I guess that’s a good thing. I now know that perhaps I’m destined for greater things besides marriage and family. That there’s more to life then being with someone and growing old together. That despite being sick and tired of everything, that there is a bigger picture than being with jerks like him. Or him. Or even him.
When Time Stood Still…
I saw him today for the first time after marriage. And he looked hail and hearty. And he saw me too across the hustle and bustle of people. He smilled. And winked. And moved on. And I just kept looking…
…and thinking. Of another time. A time when his smile would warm me up and make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. When I felt that despite the whole ’star-crossed’ lovers angle, we’d always have something going on. But that was my sad mistake.
Don’t get me wrong. I doubt I have any feelings for him. But seeing him be completely fine and looking even hot after his supposed ‘forced marriage’ really irked me. And the fact that I looked like crap didn’t help.
And for that one moment our eyes met, time really stood still….
*Warning – Racist Comments* Why I Hate…
…Paki men. Yea, before you begin the whole not every guy is like that, I know that too. But somehow the men I keep coming across just piss the hell out of me. They all seem so nice, gentlemanly and perhaps full of potential. And every thing’s fine until I let my guard down and BAM! they suddenly show their true colors. They show the manipulating, hypocritical, weasley side of them. I think I’m done with Paki men. I’m going to lay off them for a while. I hate them. I hate them for hurting me. I hate them for still making me think of them even when they’re no longer here and they’ve moved on in life. I hate them for saying they can’t be with me because of X reason and then marrying/dating another girl for the very same X reason. DAMN THEM!!! DAMN THEM ALL!!! I HATE THEM!!! I HATE HIM!!!…
