come to think of that, there was a dialogue from a movie i watched not long ago. what was it? ahh yeah! "under this mask, there is an idea and ideas are bulletproof."
horrifying, isn't it? the times have changed. a hero for one is a villain for another. its a constant war between the ideologies. killing a man? a leader? a representative? would it change anything? the only thing it would do is postpone the inevitable. killing militants, them killing our soldiers, our civilians being the casualties of war. bloodshed, thats ehat we are surrounded with. i like how i keep on jumping from one topic to another. never really knowing how and when i did that. its only when i read it again do i realise i completely went off track. is it ADHD? or is it just me looking for an excuse to justify my inability to write anything of worth? the latter seems to carry more weight.
i have been able to write raps or poems or whatever you'd like to call it. its just in the middle of being crap and being a proper piece. "actions reactions, reactions then sorrow. time is the thing we wish we could borrow. if i get a chance i would not do this again. would fertile my soul, this empty barren plain. " this is something i wrote not long ago. i don't know how i come up to writing about stuff so depressing. it might be because i aint the happiest man out there, i have my fair share of problems and burden on my brain, but that doesnt justify each and everyone of my piece being about something negative. when have i ever written anything good? anything that didn't have to do with some kind of problems that i am currently facing.
lets start with the "dream" that i wrote the first time. no matter ehat i tell others, i know it in my heart to be true when i say this poem is about a severed bond between two lovers or friends. but back then i didntbhave any such problems. i had good friends and i never had a girlfriend this having no problems regarding breakup pain. so how did i end up writing that? then i wrote about the toilet seat. Ah yeah, havent heard about that in a long long while. what was it again? aham, sitting on a toilet seat thinking ehat to write, there's a huge bunch of sheeps in a town near sea side. i know that makes no sense, but believe me i am a guide." whoa now what was it about? well if my memmory serves i necer got a chance to comolete that one. i got lost in other things that innever paid heed to this unfinished business of mine. someday i would write this one down. someday.
what did i write next? damn you Ahmad for having a such a bad memory. what was it? focus. focus. well an image of a man in a pub is forming in my head. yeah i did write something relating that, which i guess i later on altered it to write about karachi attacks. ah yeah, got it. it went something like this; " the day that youb thought, it couldn't get any worse. came a person with a knot, and a large red purse. height wasnt that short but kept on getting cursed. ordered a few shots sat there with a nurse" thats as much as i could recall. you aren't as bad as i considered you to be (i am n taking with myself). i have also written about the people being butchered day ib day out. our brothers die, the life goes on. nothing left to cry, the life goes on. and when we finally won the decima i wrote something about real madrid. that was the first time i wrote something that wasn't depressing. it was that and the time that i wrote something for saad did i write something that didn't want to kill yourself. ahh when i came here i also wrote something about duygu. yeah those days i kinda had a crush on her. i don't remember the words properly but it had somrthing relating her hair and how they were tied up in a bun. nah can't recall it. i also made some attempts to write another piece similar to that of "the dream" but i couldn't do so untill this semester. i have wrtten some good ones. i also wrote two pieces on the oeshawar attacks. they bring tears in my eyes every time i read it.
horrifying, isn't it? the times have changed. a hero for one is a villain for another. its a constant war between the ideologies. killing a man? a leader? a representative? would it change anything? the only thing it would do is postpone the inevitable. killing militants, them killing our soldiers, our civilians being the casualties of war. bloodshed, thats ehat we are surrounded with. i like how i keep on jumping from one topic to another. never really knowing how and when i did that. its only when i read it again do i realise i completely went off track. is it ADHD? or is it just me looking for an excuse to justify my inability to write anything of worth? the latter seems to carry more weight.
i have been able to write raps or poems or whatever you'd like to call it. its just in the middle of being crap and being a proper piece. "actions reactions, reactions then sorrow. time is the thing we wish we could borrow. if i get a chance i would not do this again. would fertile my soul, this empty barren plain. " this is something i wrote not long ago. i don't know how i come up to writing about stuff so depressing. it might be because i aint the happiest man out there, i have my fair share of problems and burden on my brain, but that doesnt justify each and everyone of my piece being about something negative. when have i ever written anything good? anything that didn't have to do with some kind of problems that i am currently facing.
lets start with the "dream" that i wrote the first time. no matter ehat i tell others, i know it in my heart to be true when i say this poem is about a severed bond between two lovers or friends. but back then i didntbhave any such problems. i had good friends and i never had a girlfriend this having no problems regarding breakup pain. so how did i end up writing that? then i wrote about the toilet seat. Ah yeah, havent heard about that in a long long while. what was it again? aham, sitting on a toilet seat thinking ehat to write, there's a huge bunch of sheeps in a town near sea side. i know that makes no sense, but believe me i am a guide." whoa now what was it about? well if my memmory serves i necer got a chance to comolete that one. i got lost in other things that innever paid heed to this unfinished business of mine. someday i would write this one down. someday.
what did i write next? damn you Ahmad for having a such a bad memory. what was it? focus. focus. well an image of a man in a pub is forming in my head. yeah i did write something relating that, which i guess i later on altered it to write about karachi attacks. ah yeah, got it. it went something like this; " the day that youb thought, it couldn't get any worse. came a person with a knot, and a large red purse. height wasnt that short but kept on getting cursed. ordered a few shots sat there with a nurse" thats as much as i could recall. you aren't as bad as i considered you to be (i am n taking with myself). i have also written about the people being butchered day ib day out. our brothers die, the life goes on. nothing left to cry, the life goes on. and when we finally won the decima i wrote something about real madrid. that was the first time i wrote something that wasn't depressing. it was that and the time that i wrote something for saad did i write something that didn't want to kill yourself. ahh when i came here i also wrote something about duygu. yeah those days i kinda had a crush on her. i don't remember the words properly but it had somrthing relating her hair and how they were tied up in a bun. nah can't recall it. i also made some attempts to write another piece similar to that of "the dream" but i couldn't do so untill this semester. i have wrtten some good ones. i also wrote two pieces on the oeshawar attacks. they bring tears in my eyes every time i read it.
