Things I won't tell you

There was this cartoon that I loved much as a kid. I kept watching over and over cause I had it taped. It was about two baby penguins and an adventure they go through. It was dubbed and renamed as Lolo and Bebe. It's the reason I love penguins. It's the reason I called you penguin. I told you that day to remind me to tell you something. I was gonna tell that story to you but I guess now you'll never know.

Such. A. Shame.

Twenty six.

My birthday wish this year is to never need anyone, never lean on anyone. Never wait on people to treat me right. Never trust anyone.

Never compromise.

That's all.

Things I wanna tell you

I hate you. I hate your face, your sunken cheeks, I hate your lifeless expressions. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate that you made me hate you. I hate you for making me hate myself. I hate your weakness. I hate you for giving up on us. I hate that I still miss you everyday. I hate that I feel lost without you. I hate crying over you. I hate my depression the most. I hate it all.

Three

I loved you cause you're kind and sweet. I saw all your flaws and silenced every little voice in my head screaming to run away.

I wanted to be happy and make you happy. I wanted you to make me happy. My life is complete. I don't need you to complete it, yet I couldn't find you when I needed you. I felt lonely. You're so busy being confused and hesitated about everything to even care for someone else. And I told you from the start, I do what I do. I'm an abandoner. I try and do my best and wait till something changes, till there's something to give me hope or get me to hold on. There's nothing. Nothing. Dead end. 

You're not special

You're not special, and you're not unique, and your mother is lying to you.

Everyone is lying to you. You're not funny. You only talk about your work and you have nothing else to talk about and it's sad.

You should leave.

You're special

If I make you listen to a song and show you the lyrics that give me goosebumps or knocks the breath outta me...

If I give a book and exactly show my favorite parts..

If I tell you stories about my cats and what they do and how much I'm in love them..

If I tell you about me, about any part of me, my past and my coming future..

If I do all that, then you better know that you're special.

Cause I don't do that with just anybody!

I just don't know

This world is just too big, and I'm too small.

I'm too small.

Counting

Start counting cause this will be over soon.

Go back and count the days, messages, laughs, the cups of coffee and the places you went and everything in between.

You do that and try to forget.

Yeah, try.

On getting kicked in the heart

I had a really really bad day. The kind of day where I'm awkward and stuttering mess of hurried words and lack of control. This was a bad idea. Bad idea. Such a bad idea. The urge to run and hide behind my dad's back was so strong but you're not a child anymore. And one day you need to grow up and be mature and face people you don't want to face. But when would that happen to me, I don't know. I really don't know.

On Meeting Strangers

I know it has been a long time, but here I am, and I'm alive and okay.
Last Friday, I met someone I've met online since last October. The experience was both amazing and thrilling, I've never done such thing before.
Meeting someone who doesn't know someone I know, or even I worked with, or went to the same places I go to. I've always had this urge to talk to someone I don't know in a cafe or a restaurant and let them in and tell them stuff about me, then leave. And I finally got to do that.
May be I have a bad girl streak in me, but it didn't feel wrong.
Since my last breakup I had no friends. At all. They were all gone just like my ex. They took his side. And I was alone, and I haven't been alone or felt that much loneliness since a very long time.
So I used twitter to get me out of my depression. And I found solace in people I don't know who accepted me the way I am.
And I found that in meeting strangers that:
I'm not my past.
I'm not what my exes made me.
I'm not what my parents told me I am.
I'm new.
And the person in front of me is new as well.
He's not his past.
He's not what his life turned him into.
He's new.
And this made me happy. I made him happy and he did.
And this is what matters most. 

I can't answer the phone!

It's the little things, like answering a simple phone call, or even calling someone I want to call for sometime now, and they seem simple enough, but they aren't, cause I have to come up with a convincing answer to Ezayik? 3amla eh? I panic and suddenly don't feel like calling anyone or answering the phone or the happy new year msgs or whatever people send me.
It's not about being negative.
But I don't know how to describe the feeling I get when someone asks me "How are you? How's life?"
And anything I say, anything, will be a complete lie.
It's just difficult. 

Word Vomit

I see you being happy and okay while I get deeper and deeper in my misery.
I see that nothing has changed in you. You still go out, same friends, same trips, same everything. And you seem really okay, like unaffected, untouched okay.
While I starve for a while then go back to eating to eating more and more till I get sick.
I feel disgusted and pathetic and sometimes I don't feel anything.
It's the very first time that I consider seeking help. I once brought it up to Mom. Who is oblivious to all of what I'm going through. And she said that there's no point. I don't have problems to go to a therapist. That it would be a waste of time and money.
But I never listen to her anyway.
I don't know how do people do it. How can they get out of bed and face the world. How to get dressed and go to work and just focus. How to be.
I want to just be. I want to get over shit and move on. I want to get a passport and go anywhere. I want to get out. I don't want reminders, I don't want to revisit certain places. You contaminate them for me. I just am not brave enough.
And I didn't do anthing for my birthday, except going shopping and baking muffins. No calls. No gifts. Nothing. I just turned 24. No big deal. But I need new friends, maybe. I'm grateful for my work, for keeping me busy. Even working on weekends. Its a distraction.

I don't know

Wondering...

Is this it?

Is that all?

Why arent you happy?

Is it enough?

Is it all?

Things I miss and more

I miss the sound of cutting paint paper with a cutter.

I miss shopping for new paint and ink pens and the sweet joy that engulfes me all day, high on my new purchases.

I miss walking through rows and rows of paint and touching paint brushes and contemplating the ones I should buy, the ones I could afford.

I miss their voices, each and everyone. I miss what made them special to me. The ones I've lost. The first's cheek dimple, his voice, the sound of his laugh and his smell. And I have to stop writing what I miss about him ,cause I can go on and on. You see, he was the first. It always comes back to that. Though I'm over it, I know the feelings are gone, but there's an impression that still remains...I don't know.

I'm drawing again and that's good. There's progress. But I can't feel satisfied with what I draw. It's simple and lacking depth. And I want to really draw and paint, like I used to. In the middle of the night, or at sunrise. For hours. I want a stiff back and achey neck for hunching over too much. I want it back.

And I want someone to tell me that I'm pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful. I want him to see me as such, makes me feel as such. And tells me to my face. The whole thing with my ex, left me thirsty for affection. Cause I didn't see it from him. And as someone so insecure -though I don't appear so- as me. I crave affection like an addict. I crave care and warmness and intimacy. I need these things, like I need air.

Honestly

I don't want to ever be fake. I want to be honest with myself and with people too. I want people to see how I think and what I believe in what I do, not just what I say. I want to be real and true. I don't want to be perfect, I want to accept my flaws perfectly. I don't want to pretend something I'm not. I don't need to impress people and I dont want to be impressed by money and fake gestures and words. I don't want to lie or conceal the truth and I don't want to be scared from being myself and being honest and true. That's what I want.

October

I wanna achieve what I actually wish for. I want to really earn it. I made a small list about things I wanna do and learn on twitter. And I can't wait to start crossing them out, one by one.
So I was thinking that if I really challenged myself and focused on them, I would feel happier on my birthday (November 1st). Recently I've started drawing and doodling again. I'm so happy about that. It's been a long time since I drew anything. Especially when I have an 8 to 5 desk job. Work is good , I've been promoted 2 weeks ago, same tasks only with a better salary ;) I've been there for only 4 months and for them to promote me and reward me for my work.
It just made my year.
I am gonna blog more often in october, little rants here and there.
Have a good week,
Nariman

The Breakup

It was painful and just tragic. There was so much agression and resentment in that relationship. It was not healthy at all. I lost so many things. I deceived myself, I tricked myself. I lowered my standards, I trusted carelessly, I was blind. I thought if he's that great as a friend, he would be great as a lover. How stupid of me! It's over and my friendship with him for 7years is over. And our common friends are over. And my relationship with my parents, who by the way blame me for his mistakes and actions, is also over. Now I have to learn to be without him, without someone who is not able to love amd give. To be without someone who's immature and irresponsible.

Tell her you love her

Tell her you love her..repeatedly!

Tell her you love her...you show her

Lonliness

I want to leave.

I want out of this.

You don't make me feel anything. You don't make me feel happy, and you don't make me feel sad.

I feel loneliness.

Drugs

Clean outfit, nails polished, makeup done. And Nari looks so pretty.

Oh so fucking pretty and we have a birthday to attend. And I don't feel right. I don't feel happy or in love or even okay.

I feel sad. But I get up and finish what I have to finish. I put on my smile just as fake lashes, comes easy.

I'm nearly done and I feel something beside sad. I feel numb.

It's my drug.