Unfortunately, I am a mirror.

The word dear is too vague

Have you ever talked to a mirror?
I’m sure you have not,
For mirrors don’t listen,
They only demand to be heard.

You know that Satan whispers,
In the religion you call your own
But I’ve seen it turn into
A reflection I can’t disown.

And demons they take several shapes
Not all as easy to identify
As the slithering body of a hissing snake
As the daughter of Eve;I defy.defy.defy.

Have you seen chaos?
I’m sure you claim you have.
I am what happens
When mirrors and tornadoes
Have a whirlwind romance

How exceedingly exalted of you
To call yourself a reflection of me
For you are much more
And,in theory,also much less

You’re a reflection of what you love
I can’t disagree
But perhaps I’m just a foggy mirror
With a human body.

You see some mirrors happen to be unkind.
At least the mirror I have in my mind.
I am a mirror that happens to feel.
I shatter with storms
But tornadoes soothe me

Scorpios I’m told have venomous bites
Ah, but the murderous compliments
You shoot with such spite
Reflect of my body
Like I am the moon
And you are the sunlight.

I lick my tongue and bite my lips
Surely sarcasm would do you justice
But if you’ve read so far
You should know

That we’ve been taught to love others
I love you so
Self love was labelled narcissus’ crime
Though to be quite frank
When I look in the mirror
I also cry.

With love and wine,

PS: Am I fire or smoke?
Neither I, nor you, know



via Daily Prompt: Survive


I know nothing about survival

Except that,

When I stare into the sea

In the memories I have of Karachi

Except that,

When I hear the roaring of the waves

In tidal storms they soothe and rave

Except that,

When I hear the whoosh of the wind

And my heart stammers within

Except that,

When I hear the monsters lurking

Beneath the layers, whispering

Except that,

When I hear monsters beckoning

And I feel the wind pushing

The darkness is creeping

My weight seems to be sinking

I know there’s someone calling

Deep within the realms

An unknown deity

I know that fate is misleading

I can see the stars are falling

I look at the sky bursting

With the cawing of gulls

And the red hot sun

Is exploding  upon

The sky in tears

Of burgundy and blood


I too feel my soul seeping out

I turn away,

In denial.



“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” – Sylvia Plath.


I am. I am. I am.

In pain. In pain. In pain.

I say. I say. I say.

I scream. I scream. I scream.

The mountains they echo.

They echo.

They echo.

Before the silence fades.

The mountains they whisper.

They whisper.

They whisper.

As the world twirls between dusk and day.

I hear the thumping of my heart.

Against my expanded chest

The rib cage, like an Eagle’s wing,

Spreads. And spreads.And spreads.

I am. I am. I am.

In pain. In pain. In pain.

I feel the slouching of my shoulders

As my head bows in dismay.

My hair,  like an Eagle’s feathers,

Sway. And sway. And sway.

I look up and see the clear blue sky.

The wisps of clouds in strings; tied

by a single strand of summer sunlight

I am. I am. I am.

In pain. In pain. In pain.

I look down to see the rocks I left behind.

I see the jagedness of water; crystalline

Rippled by the rocks that escape my feet.

The mountain stands.

In all it’s majesty.

The light flows.

With the flickering of the seas.

Everything is


Constantly changing.



Note: I’m not sure how you guys read it. I’m not sure if you saw. But the right hand side and the left hand side are poems in themselves. So you could read them separately. Especially the left hand side which was easier to write.

The earthquake apocalypse.

Who knew such a thing could possible happen? One earthquake can shatter the whole world.

Something slightly scary occurred to me the other day. Analysis of the Mw 7.8 quake that ripped through central New Zealand last November suggests it was awesomely complex. We usually imagine quakes being caused when one fault line moves. Or maybe two or three faults, because faults tend to exist in connected systems. And often, […]

via The earthquake apocalypse – it’s coming. Probably. — Matthew Wright

Uniquely Me Tag.

Well. Here’s another nomination from Tehreem.  Thank you, I guess.

So this is what I have to do:

1. Thank the person that nominated you for this tag and link to their blog (spread the love, basically).  – Oh Lord be witness, I followed this commandment.
2. Write as many things that are unique to you as possible: these can be things that you do, say, like or have that make you different to other people or let you stand out. It can be what defines you as a person, a little thing about you that is just simply you or something little known that you think makes you up as a person. 

Forgive me if I err in doing this vaguely scripted rule, that might not fit my abstract personality which inherently disobeys rules for no reason other than sheer stubborness.
3. Nominate up to 10 bloggers or as many as you like; there isn’t a limit. Oh Lord,  once again forgive my impudence and rationality, but no one who I tag ever does this shit so what the actual fuck is the point? I’m not going to do this. Can we all pray for my cursed soul now?
4. You can take this tag as seriously or non-seriously as you like; you can laugh whilst doing it or feel contemplative: this is about you, after all.I shall indeed take it upon me to be as serious and full of sense as I have been bestowed. I shall not in any way let putrid humor stand in front my goals I shall be victorious
5. After you’ve written this and if you ever feel like there’s nothing to you but what other people have already said and done, look back to your post and remember that it isn’t true! 

Umm…my first point in how unique I am was going to be the fact that I’m so fucking mediocre that I’d lose the award for the most mediocre person on the planet because I can’t even be the best at mediocrity. Well fuck, I have to write things that will make me feel positive later on. 

Dear Lord and saviour, forgive me for all the lies I’m about to bullshit here due to lack of…specialities in my personalities, so to say.


  1. I have controversial opinions. Apparently. One opinion that most of my friends would disagree with is that I have nothing unique in my personality. It’s literally a carbon copy of all the average-ness in the world stuck into one frame. And it’s not even original averageness, it’s a carbon-copy. FML forever.
  2. Yes, that was a 13 reasons why reference. I don’t think that show glorified suicide, there’s many reasons to hate the show, glorification of suicide isn’t one. I’d give the show 7/10.
  3. 7/10 is my GPA. Which is the average gpa of the class.
  4. I’m so unique that in a post where I’m supposed to talk about how unique I am, I’m talking about how average I am.
  5. OH I HAVE ONE TRULY UNIQUE THING ABOUT ME. I’m self-obsessed. I am so self obsessed that I have convinced myself the only love I need is self love, the only person I need is myself. I’m so self obsessed that I’m dependant on myself, like we are all dependant on our obsessions.
  6. Like all obsessions fail you. I fail myself quiet often more than anyone else I know.
  7. I can’t write 10 positive and unique facts about myself.
  8. I can’t write 10 positive facts about myself.
  9. I can’t write 10 unique facts about myself.
  10. I can’t write 10 unique facts about myself.
  11. Wait. I repeated a point didn’t I?
  12. Yes, that was supposed to be funny. I use humor as a defense mechanism. (It’s one of the most common types of defense mechanisms after kicking a guy in the balls).
  13. I hate romance. YES! That is truly unique about me, based on my observation of the people around me. I.HATE.ROMANCE.
  14.  I have used the words average and it’s synonyms 9 times combined I’ve used the word unique 9 times too. That shows my personality has balance which goes correctly according to the placement Mars when I was born. The placement of the sun in the fifth house and the moon in the 10th house combined to give me an overall aggressive personality that favors the emotions and likes to be the center of attention.
  15. The placement of my brain and my science major though leads me to call bullshit on astrology. Because stars are dust and fusion.
  16. I find lust to be a fascinating feeling.
  17. I can’t stop writing even when I have nothing to write.


How to survive being yourself.

(Warning: intense use of death note references)


I raise my sleeves and stretch my arms, much like Light Yagami does in his infamous potato chip scene on the anime Death Note, and laugh to myself, again much like Light Yagami.  It’s time for my body to projectile out sarcastic vomit and call it a blog post. I can feel it churning within me as it fights my inner demons, I can feel it whisper jokes in my ears, I feel it. It’s coming.

It’s peculiar. More peculiar than my average posts. It stinks of positivity, no- it stinks of lack of empathy and prior knowledge which is masked in skillful words to make it look like it’s positive. It’s useless, yet it’s obnoxious and self obsessed. It feels like it’s serving a purpose to the world of the internet. Could it be you Piers Morgan? Have you inhabited my body and turned into a blog post? Is it you Katie Hopkins? What is this monstrous post?

I’m trying to fight it, but it’s too strong, it’s ferocious. It’s here.

So without further ado I bring to you my self-help blog post on how to survive being yourself.


*end of over enthusiastic and vaguely written sentence that makes you feel as if I’m the Monk of Self-help.*

And I assure you, it will be just as helpful as the other self-help posts on the internet. (My buddies with depression can I get a Fuck Yeah?

Of course I can’t. You all are tired and sleeping. #SnapOutOfIt)


  1. Growing a repulsive sense of humor


So young ones. are you willing to step into the domain of sarcasm and putrid humor that none but you understand? Are you willing to be so pathetic in your attempts at everything that you are just pathetic. Are you willing to delve into the world of self deprecating and other people- deprecating humor?

Laughter is the best medicine. Of course it is, and humor is the bottle it comes in.

But how, how do we obtain this bottle? Do we find it in the Advils we take to control our migraines? Do we find it in the snot covered pillow that we can’t throw away because we’re too lazy to, the closed blinds, the darkness and the emptiness?

Well, I’m not supposed to tell you how to do shit. I’m just supposed to tell you what to. A self help post is supposed to bombard you with fanciful ideas, like taking a break from everyday life to go on a travelling trip to Iceland where conversing with the holy mountain goats will clear your mind of the void you’ve conjured up, but isn’t supposed to tell you how.

You see, everyone is different. We have all been given different brains, different thoughts, different ideas. I cannot tell you how to live your life, I can only tell you what the fuck to do according to my limited vision.

However I can impart upon you this secret from the fountains of sarcasm.

One cannot be truly prepared to glide across the beach of absolute bullshit, and drink of the waters of stupidity if you do not take permission from the king of the world of roasting, Chandler Bing.

Remember to visit Chandler Bing.


2. The art of not giving an actual fuck



Let’s imagine the worse thing that could possibly happen to us. Marriage, kids, the insane desire to rip apart ourselves and reconstruct our body, bad sex etc.

One way to combat these things is to rant. You could rant to your friends who will undoubtedly turn of their last seen because of you. You could rant on your WordPress blog, where no one gives an actual living fuck and yes being completely ignored in your time of desperation is what you need.

Or judging by the fact that you might feel lonely anyways, why not isolate yourself even more by putting on an expressionless face, that says ‘bitch, do I look like I care?”

And eventually you’ll stop caring. In fact you’ll plunge into the depths of not giving a fuck, you’ll be so stressed, so filled with emptiness and other oxymorons,  so filled with  the inability to feel that you will actually not give a fuck.Because you can’t.

Unless it’s the sweet sight of a car rushing towards you, driving at 150 km/h as you stand at the edge of a cliff, having nowhere to run.

THAT’S AWESOME.  Not because you can feel the awesomeness, that would defeat the whole point of not feeling,no-the reason is because now nobody can hurt you.  Except yourself. In which case, clearly tell yourself to fuck off, you will not entertain these humorless, non meme-sque thoughts, and when you realized yourself can’t possibly fuck off try step 1.

Yes. This in itself is very important, but combined with humor it is an impenetrable force of God bestowed upon the unholiest of the overtly dramatic of the human population.



          3. The art of crying


So it’s happened. Step 1 has failed. Step 2 has failed. You, *deep inhale* kind of, sort of, actually, care. In fact maybe you don’t care, and you’re scared about the fact that you don’t care because that’s fucked up. You’re so scared about the fact that you can’t bring yourself to feel anything, except this ugly stomach waves of nausea which the internet calls anxiety that you kind of care about your not caring.

A little overwhelming isn’t it? This increasingly big nothing.

AHA! Another oxymoron.

Not to fear, the art of crying alone on your side of the bed covered with a comforter or bed-sheet even in the heat of July, will save you.

If you have indeed read this far, and you are able to comprehend by PhD level of bullshitting then I’m sure your parents, room-mate or whoever you live with is accustomed to seeing you lazing around in bed. (Or as I like to call it being so tired and crippled that you cannot bring yourself out of bed.) If this is truly the case, then naturally you won’t get caught.

For additional protective measures while still in bed; use a pillow to muffle out any sounds made.


4. The catharsis of an obsession


But honestly, we are humans. Our humanness, humanity (or whatever the appropriate word is I’m tired of being fake happy okay?) depends on our ability to use our emotions as a drug and completely depend on them for our definition of humanity.

This means we have the urge to feel something even if that something is normalcy. That’s where our daily minuscule irrelevant obsessions comes in.

* my 5000 word essay on Light Yagami falls out of the journal*

Excuse me for that interruption.

*shoves the essay into a locker filled with pictures of Light Yagami.*

*All the pictures fall out.*

You know what. Let’s ignore this mess. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of healthy obsession with the outer world. It is in obsessions that we find the reflections of ourselves, of who we’d like to be, who we can be if we apply ourselves, it is in obsessions we find laughter and happiness and a valid reason to not sleep at night.

So find your obsessions. Find a completely insignificant person, thing, real, alive, dead or maybe non existent being (some would call this God and accuse me of being religious) and dedicate your life to it. Make a Tumblr. account and while you’re making something, make someone’s life miserable, kill time and while you’re killing, kill everyone who disgarees with you. Make a shrine on the remains of the dead body of all those #HATERS and become god of the new world. BECOME JUSTICE.

Also insert references to your obsessions, that only those in your fandom understand.

obsession 2.gif


And that’s it. The four steps of surviving being with yourself. And I know these work because I’ve tried them.

By the end of it, the person you’re trying to survive with will want to leave you. But hey, there’s self help posts for that too.

They’re titled:”How to get over your depression.”

They are as useful as this one is.



Fire. Water. And the way hearts falter.

When carbon is ignited in the presence of oxygen it combusts.  When there isn’t enough oxygen it kills. When there is no oxygen or heat it stays the same dark mineral.  Remember that.


I found myself in one of those conversations with Tehreem again. Sometimes if my friends were to read what me and her talk about they wouldn’t even recognize me. Especially after this particular episode of highly exaggerated ranting, on my part, about, oh dear God, save me, love.  

I treat romance like it’s a bi-product of existence, should be thrown out the window never to be looked at or felt ever. I treat romantic interests and (romantic/sexual) love to be separate deities, though both I abhor.  So you can imagine my complete repulsion to what I am about to write a little while into this, thing.

If there is someone who I want to be filled with, it is me. I know the amount of times I’ve said this on this blog has probably begun to annoy everyone in the world, and honestly I have to stop saying this because the more I say it the more it looks like I’m trying to tell myself it’s true even-though it might not be. I just don’t like to be filled with thoughts of other people, it give me anxiety and furthermore, I am quiet fascinating to know and complicated in my own right so I have every right to want to be filled with me before I give that luxury to some one else. 

These days in the quiet bus rides to university I’ve begun to think more though. And let’s be real, a thinking nincompoop can only produce blunders and stupidity. I found something on Instagram that devoured me completely.  I’m not the kind of person who can let things go, another thing I repeat too often, and when it comes to written pieces or works of art, well it’s a curse. Even right now I can’t seem to find the words, for what has welled up inside me.  I shared it with Tehreem. (Read at your own risk.). It was about the kind of love I would feel if I ever love someone and it scared her.

I didn’t quiet understand why, I do now, but here is something I only just realized. I was so caught up in why and how it scared her, that I forgot how much it scared me. Maybe if Tehreem had agreed, I would have asked doesn’t it scare you? But she didn’t.

Funny isn’t it, that I took so long to defend it, when in all honesty, it scares the living fuck out of me too. But I guess I forgot. Tehreem, likes water and calmness. Only she can describe it in her own distinct way. I like fire.

I like the idea of recklessness. Of ragged hearts filled with sarcasm and wine. It wouldn’t be anything like lakes and water, the only liquid here is regret as it washes over us. It would combust releasing a heat too profound to be captured and trained. On the good days it should devour us, on the bad days it should come chasing us as we run from it like wildfire. It should laugh on the average days. Whole-hearted laughter. The silence between us should be deafening. It should be the sound of violins in an empty room.  You would think it’s childish and you would be correct.

Love should be childish. And stupid. What is the point of love if it doesn’t make you dumber?

But most of all, love shouldn’t leave, and fire tends to extinguish. But let’s be real it’s harder to keep water from flowing away than it is to quench out fire. Isn’t it? Fire dies down. Water seeps. Fire needs to be prevented from extinguishing. Water needs to be in fool-proof containers.  Tehreem’s heart is a fool-proof container. And that’s amazing on it’s own. My heart is Hell.

That’s why love, love comes from Satan.

Hell isn’t always bad thoughts and sins.

Sometime’s it’s warm, like Summer, and the way the breeze welcomes you in it’s arm. Sometimes it’s like sweaters and mufflers and jackets and layers that make it hard to walk when the wind turns on you. Sometimes it’s chai, how could I forget chai, that burns your tounge just a little. Ouch. Sometimes, it’s peaceful, like the blueness of the sky that would have you think it’s summer outside even-though it’s -18 degrees.

Sometimes it’s the silence between the music.  Maybe if I turn the music on really loud, we could use it as an excuse for driving over the speed limit. When I know, I know, the rules, the laws and all those hindrances to mankind.

What am I even doing here? I have Chemistry to study and a cricket game to watch.  What a waste. Like the water that’s created when coal is burnt.

I hope I always have enough oxygen. I hope Tehreem always has enough,of whatever it is she wants.