he’d have left her anyway.
she only left him first.
she’d have been helplessly, hopelessly, desperately out of her mind and deep, deep in the pits of depression at this point of time in their lives, because of the decision he made.
How many days have gone by since you last decided to speak to God? What did you ask for? Money? Success? love? They speak of fate as if it is a rational being, capable of thought and decision making. OR is it the opposite they speak of? That fate is an unforgiving being, capable of destruction and wreaking havoc when you least expect it. Either ways, who gave Fate a name? Isn’t it just another way of pushing the blame of the worst moments of your life onto something, anything, a defense mechanism to cope, survive, to be able to brush it off as something that wasn’t under your control, but in the hands of fate.. I wonder where we’d be if there was no one to take the fall for our mistakes.
My broken heart I free
Quietly beneath these trees
Upending my soul in the waters that run below..
Lost in the cacophony
Of winds shackled in the glee
Brought on from the pain I let go..
But did I really believe
That I could be honestly free
The ache is a mothership inside of me..
Never really gone, just hovering around
Although I pretend otherwise..
What would happen if you stay, I know
Temporary bliss and more hurting egos
You and I aren’t meant to be..
Yet it hurts to unbelieve.
I can’t breathe to lose you
I can’t live with you
I’m not jealous of another woman’s arms around you.. believe me..
Just hurting that they’re gone from my own..
How many times can I hurt the same old wound..
The scab settles and I callously remove
It bleeds again and again and never heals
What does this mean
About you and me..
Or just me.
Some days are blue cuz of lack of fire
And some days lit by a desperate desire
The first, chilling to the bone and dire
Unknown the feeling of nothingness, doesn’t inspire
But desire, desire burns me up from inside
My core caught in passion untamed, bursting with plans for glory and fame,
And the world ties me down in iron chains..
I don’t know which I prefer more,
The uneasy but quiet emptiness of cold
Or the burning incense of my smouldering soul.
The year that I lost my sister, I over read the Harry Potter series, jane Austen’s collection, and rewatched all the movies I’ve ever watched in my life. It seemed fanatical almost. I’ve never been big on posters or fanclubs, but that year, I truly became obsessed with Harry Potter as if it just came out. All my longing and all my pain was transferred to the Undying nature of these books. I started to worry about Margaret, the third sister in Sense and sensibility, and for the first time, I wondered whether Laurie would help his wife’s sisters monetarily. I imagined what Lizzy did as mrs. Darcy and how well was she able to manage a whole estate?! Did their father die early and if yes, what happened to kitty and Mary?! Why didn’t they share their houses with the junior Mr. Knightley? How in the world did Harry survive nineteen years without PTSD? SO many questions and zero answers and I simply reread them over and over that year.. manically. Somehow, their problems seemed easier to handle than my own.
Today, I realize some things you never truly get over, no matter how hard you think you try. Stephanie Edwards decision to quit medicine seems much more plausible to me than the fact that she remained alive despite such severe burns. It seemed to me that I would choose a demanding field, but when push came to shove, I shunned every subject carrying even the slightest hint of death. I chose derma, with only ten seconds of thought. I dunno what kind of life I shall have thanks to it, I only know I do not want anybody dying on any table that I am incharge of.
1. Always ask the husband before doing things you already know the answer to.
Make him feel like it was his idea
Rejection made a master out of a few women I know. Shadan. Saadia. They’ve come out so strong and so successful. And here I am. Struggling to accept something I knew would never happen from day one, hung up on it for so long. Shadan had to be rejected on the grounds of issue of class or wealth. She had it hanging over her heart and she had a third degree perineal tear during her delivery, and yet a year later, she emerged triumphant, a surgery seat in the most reputable college in our world. She’s a master surgeon today with a beautiful four year old daughter, a kind husband who supports her and she has never once given up. Never once deviated from her path. Her focus.