Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. Apparently the heart grows so fond that presence isn't needed anymore.
I've finally gotten over someone whom I thought I couldn't live without. And I'm glad.
Does anyone even read this shit?
Monday, 29 April 2013
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
it was 3 am in the friendzone
The even, deep breathing punctuated by a muffled mumble.
"I love you", you had said.
Unaware that you had spoken, unaware of who had heard.
I closed my eyes and savored it.
The name you said after that wasn't mine.
But that was okay. You weren't mine to begin with.
"I love you", you had said.
Unaware that you had spoken, unaware of who had heard.
I closed my eyes and savored it.
The name you said after that wasn't mine.
But that was okay. You weren't mine to begin with.
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Lahore lives up to it's name nicely.
La fucking Whore.
Isn't it unfortunate when a Pakistani marries an American and then has a little kid then takes them all to Pakistan and then DIES. What the fuck, man. Mum and I are stuck here amongst online courses and failed diets and cigarette smoke and cheap paperback novels and Strings cds. Fuck this empty place where people look at you like you're a freak and treat my mum like shit in this dingy and filthy apartment building. Thanks dad, for leaving a nice sum of money that only pays for the groceries. And thanks for not teaching me Punjabi, the fuck do I speak with people here even after so long? Fuck every girl who has ever approached me for my looks and not even trying to understand me. Not caring at all for the shit I've been through, just feeling so good about themselves for dating unapproachable me. Like they won some kind of prize. If it were allowed I would punch out their teeth for comparing me with fucking fictional gay ass vampires and giggling away while trying to take pictures of me thinking I wouldn't know. And then crying and complaining when I said I had enough. La Whores of Lahore. Hate this place.
La fucking Whore.
Isn't it unfortunate when a Pakistani marries an American and then has a little kid then takes them all to Pakistan and then DIES. What the fuck, man. Mum and I are stuck here amongst online courses and failed diets and cigarette smoke and cheap paperback novels and Strings cds. Fuck this empty place where people look at you like you're a freak and treat my mum like shit in this dingy and filthy apartment building. Thanks dad, for leaving a nice sum of money that only pays for the groceries. And thanks for not teaching me Punjabi, the fuck do I speak with people here even after so long? Fuck every girl who has ever approached me for my looks and not even trying to understand me. Not caring at all for the shit I've been through, just feeling so good about themselves for dating unapproachable me. Like they won some kind of prize. If it were allowed I would punch out their teeth for comparing me with fucking fictional gay ass vampires and giggling away while trying to take pictures of me thinking I wouldn't know. And then crying and complaining when I said I had enough. La Whores of Lahore. Hate this place.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
Sunday, 25 November 2012
Monday, 12 November 2012
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