Querulous 

If you were to sit in front of me, and talk about the weather, it would take the turn of seasons for us to find and understanding. If you were to find me when looking for a canvas to display your musing on, then.. that’s what you’d see. All men are somewhere between white paper and mirrors, to those who know the right questions, we are but answers. So scratch the table with your fingernail, stand on edge of that cliff, and ask. We are two steps away at any moment from cabbages and kings, from ravens and nevermores, and irreparably broken wrists. Take the step and unsettle me, look for all the wrong words with the right intentions, stain your fingertips in my glass and for god’s sake, ask. I am an answer for those waiting to be rendered querulous. 

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(I blame my coffee entirely, for how full of myself I am today. 😄) 
Have a lovely day, my beauties. ❤️
-yusra 

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Tonight is hard.

It’s been a bad day, and it’s been a difficult night.

 

Dad’s home again, and given his new ‘injured’ status, the mood swings have been worse than ever. He couldn’t find any other reason to, so he made me read a document out loud to him eight times. Then he screamed at me because I don’t walk straight, I do my laundry twice a week, because my sister didn’t take his call, and because my brother was up till two last night. Neither of which I knew, but he says that apparently I should bear the brunt of his wrath because he doesn’t want to disturb them. Apparently I’ve made thirty years worth of bad decisions and ruined my life. Which I don’t understand, because I’m not thirty years old, and everything in my life, including where I was born, has been his decision  every single of the significant number of citizenship and monetary problems I face today are direct consequences of his decisions. In addition to everything else, i am also convenient to blame

 

And while this yelling match was happening, I kept calm. I kept my cool, I didn’t cry, I didn’t break down, I kept my temper under control, and mom kept needling to shut my mouth throughout. She can’t stop, she can’t control herself from hovering in the middle, and I can’t. I can’t handle two so unstable people at the same time. I can’t handle all of her emotional needs and support her and console her, and handle this bastard at the same time. She didn’t let me breathe for two minutes after the fight before following me to my room and starting her nagging about rewriting an application because of some completely nonsensical reason. And the minute she left my room, the wretched cocksucker came back inside to yell at me some more. And then like a switch going off, the minute he’d vented his spleen, he started joking around again

 

And now when I’ve finally finished the chores, locked everything and turned the lights out, mom comes back into the room and switches the light on to check if I’m crying.

 

 

I can’t cry in this house anymore. I can’t think or breathe in this house anymore. They are eating me alive, bit by bit. I can’t live here, I can’t get away, there’s no escape from these monsters, they won’t leave me alone they won’t leave me be. I’m going to go completely deranged, completely unhinged, I can’t, I can’t do this anymore, I don’t know what to do.

 

There’s no help. I have nowhere to go.

Glory Be

I can’t blame you, if I’m in love with the taste of being wasted. The utterly balanced delicate bite of the bitterness inside, with the rising bile, being shattered and glorious just comes naturally- it’s my style, I suppose, to be gasping, and blue, and asphyxiating on words I dare not tell you. Claw at my eyes and feel my throat wrench, as I force myself to swallow, as my stomach clenches. Rug burn, heartburn, cigarette burns, consterning, do the stars leave holes behind in the sky where they’re burning? Or maybe, that’s the price you have to pay, to be a thing of beauty, you have to blaze away.

And there you have it. That’s what we are. You are beauty, I am the destruction, and we are just as beautiful together, at a distance, as the stars.

❤️

Hi guys. I seem to return only to apologize, but I suppose life is all consuming that way. I’ve been very busy with some classes. The odd thing is, writing articles in class eats up a lot of my ‘word’ energy, and whatever creativity I have to burn, I seem to burn in short pieces these days. So I have been posting tiny write ups on Instagram. I’m at @calliopes_lyre. The other advantage on that platform is that I can occasionally go live on Instagram, which I can’t do here. So find me there, and I’ll find you- we have much to talk about.

Always loving you,

Yusra

Rock and Sea

Rock, and stone, and hill. The first step I take, into the air- I know this air. The first step I take, onto the ground- and I know this ground. This salt, this earth, this dry, cracked dust, this is what I learnt to stand in. This parched sky is what i took my first breath to. This tract of land, shunned and forgotten, is what I walked out of, the last truly happy days my childlike mind would know. This is the ocean, that let me sail away. This is the shore, that brought me back. And every night, where I sailed the restless seas of the night in the ship my dreams builds, I’d come home to rest.

No, my country. I am coming back to you- but I was never away…

The True Face of Assholery 

We’d gone to watch Annabelle at the IMAX here today, and these guys were sitting behind us. How did we come to know that it was these guys sitting behind us? Because we turned around to glare at them, oh, I don’t know, about a MILLION times.
Going to a movie and having to listen to frontbenchers whistling is okay, somewhat expected, especially if it’s a heavy Bollywood or masala movie. Clapping isn’t unusual in action movies either. But, motherfucker, in a god damned horror movie, these two women would NOT SHUT UP. It’s like they were actually cursed, that their lips would start sprouting tumors if they shut their mouths for one god forsaken minute. And I kid you not, I’m not exaggerating, they didn’t shut up throughout the damn movie.
It’s a horror movie. It’s supposed to be quiet in the theater, there’s supposed to be an element of surprise or at least the opportunity to be scared. Holy mother of god, not one person probably was able to focus on the screen with the nonstop babbling pouring forth from the manhole that this girl’s mouth was. The taller one repeated every single dialogue in the movie, as if she needed to desperately prove to the entire world that glory be, she’d finally learnt how to read! She repeated dialogues after the characters, read every single printed thing on the screen- it says ‘come in’ on a sign, she spells it out loud. A character tries to confess, she’s yakking in response to it. Like I don’t know if she was coked up beyond control or what, she was on word vomit mode throughout the damn film. And not just talking like a normal person. SHRIEKING, like a demented harpy, shrieking at the screen. And the other one, not talking as much but laughing like she was the possessed one, not the damn doll on the screen, at every line her incontinent friend was leaking.
I think they should give awards to audiences who don’t shower people like these with shoes.
What’s infinitely more irritating is that these failed abortions were clearly educated, well dressed, and looked like they’d duped some sorry ass into giving them a job. There’s a blonde on the screen? Let’s quote Harry Potter at the top of your voice. There’s a child in absolute darkness, waiting for a demon to turn the corner? Let’s talk AT THE TOP OF OUR VOICES ABOUT HOW THE DEMON CHANGED HIS CLOTHES. Or idk, maybe they were so surprised at being admitted into a public place with Normal people again that they were losing their collective shit.
And i suspect, trolling. They knew everyone around them was getting legitimately annoyed. Everyone kept shushing them and muttering audible swear words in their direction, and they knew it. People in their general radius were all moving away from them throughout the damn movie, to salvage whatever was left of the film away from their squalling voices. We changed seats twice, and sat way down in front. Had to crane our necks a little but at least the demon was louder than these bitches in the second half of the movie. The theater was empty enough for it. You could see them self consciously standing outside after the movie, too, trying to avoid the eyes of all the people who’d suffered through the movie because of them. Two hours in a theater with these bitches? Can the demon posses me next? Hell’s gotta be more peaceful than anywhere in hearing distance these guys.
Actually, come to think of it, that’s the only reason they sat through the film. If the theater had been any fuller, someone or the other would have gotten them thrown out on their sorry loud asses. The guy, to his credit, was not talking like the pair of buzzards he was with, but he didn’t shut them up either. Not once.
Or the lot of them were too drunk/stoned to realize that they weren’t actually sitting in their living rooms, idk. I’ve never wanted to slap the ever living shit out of a complete stranger’s face before.
Rant over. Smh.