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  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 4d

    I wanted to write something today
    Something that doesn't touch you,
    Something that is very distant
    And I ended up writing about me.

    ©_sad_ia_quad_ir_

  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 1w

    I no longer know how to write. It takes all of me and I come out with nothing.
    I just hope I don't forget it, the thought is frightening.

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    I was afraid I was not going to make it to the shore
    But then I saw you standing there
    With your hands stretched outwards
    I paddled with all my might to get to you,
    But I was weak!
    My battered limbs couldn't carry me to you
    I kept making efforts anyway
    As you stood there
    Cemented to the floor,
    Watching me struggle
    With that pretty smile
    I saw it, and I smiled back
    I had no strengths left
    I could no longer fight
    I felt myself getting carried into the depths
    Of that dark blue lake
    And I felt my lungs gasping for air,
    But the depth denied it that
    I looked at you again
    From that hazy gaze
    You were standing there,
    Smiling
    But I could no longer return it back
    I felt sorry
    And suffocated by my own will
    And kept sinking
    Deeper and deeper
    Until there was no effort involved
    I wasn't paddling any more
    I was no more terrified
    Nor choking at all
    My limbs were still
    I was still
    And finally,
    At
    peace.

    ©_sad_ia_quad_ir_

  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 10w

    @writersnetwork thanks sire :p

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    Over the years, you nourished me with bleak hopes
    Caressed me with sweet lies
    Held me with deception, and called it love
    But when those thick dark walls started to get closer to me and I could see them better, I felt suffocated by them, yet you held me still with those reasons so false
    And I believed all of you, for that is how badly I wanted to belong
    I got so accustomed to all of those things
    When we parted ways
    And love touched me in form of words from acquaintances
    I held its throat and suffocated it to death,
    And smiled,
    Relieved of an unfamiliar touch;
    And I looked around for that familiar touch, again
    Only to realise
    That has faded away too!
    My whole world collapsed
    And devastated as I was,
    Cried
    And cried..

    And died

    ©sadiaquadir

  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 33w

    "����'�� ������ ������ �������������� �������� ���������������� ������, ����'�� ������ ��������."

    9 songs far, that's how distant my college was to my home. And that is how long I would subdue my quench to howl. That is how long I would push down your memories from surfacing up. After my sight would meet the confinement of my house I would let my body slid under the blankets of bleak hope and cry.

    The day we stopped talking, I found a fresh jasmine lying in my grandpa's garden, waiting to be crushed under someone's foot, or to die in someone's hairs. I took it and placed it between the pages of my diary ever so gently, like respecting the dead. I witnessed it losing its beauty everyday. The day it ceased to rot any further, I taped it just beside 'Dear diary' and wrote about you and me, and not 'us'.

    I was sitting on the stairs ascending to the floor above one day, staring at an inexplicable point, when my brother came into the house and rubbed the bottom of his slippers on the doormat. When he went out of sight, I placed the doormat under a running tap and watched the dirt slip away. When the doormat appeared clean I let it dry in the sunlight and smiled....

    ©sadiaquadir

    P.S: it might seem incomplete, and in one way it is, and it is not.

    I guess I just wanted to write something :)

    The line in the " " is by K.J Parker, Sixteen Ways To Defend A Walled City

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  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 34w

    Been long, and I am sorry for vanishing. I would get back to all of you I promise.

    P.s: I don't know what's this (or maybe I do). Just that I woke up with this in my head. And help me write maybe? Suggest a topic? I so want to write but cannot. I would love to attempt though.

    And I know that it's probably shit. But I just wanted to give my thought words. I don't know. And I know I spoiled it.

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    Just before I jumped off the roof
    I got my head busied on thinking
    About all the miserable times
    Until it wasn't something I had adored
    But just a big ugly dumpster
    I had been carrying all the shits in
    Placed heavily above my neck...
    And as I inched closer to the ground
    And kept thinking
    I abhorred it even more
    I inched closer
    And
    Closer...
    And the moment
    The dumpster hit the ground
    And the red dark liquid
    Gushed out
    All I could see were the junks,
    Splashed out of my skull..
    And as I lied there
    Motionless
    Waiting for the pain to end
    There came a faint memory
    A memory..
    I could have lived for..

    ©sadiaquadir

  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 44w

    F E A R
    The seed of fear sprouted in me when I was a kid. I was afraid to go to the stage, afraid of facing people, afraid of taking stands, of showing the love I had for my people. All I had ever been good in is bragging of my courageousness. I never were. But maybe I needed it, so I would speak that out loud, only to hear it myself. My own voice never rang in my head. Inside I was the same old afraid kid, no matter what. With time the branches of fear started spreading in me until I lost my identity to it. I didn't say a word to that guy in the autorickshaw who continuously touched my breast; at first I couldn't even tell for sure if it was really happening, all I could do was shift myself away in that public-packed transport, so he would stop doing that. And all I could do eventually was abuse a word. I didn't say a word when my uncle caressed my thighs saying how long it has grown. I was crying and shouting and throwing things violently, but all in my head.

    S I L E N C E
    Initially it was an uninvited guest in my life, I stopped it from banging my door. But my grasp wasn't strong enough to cease it from slipping into my head and spreading out into me. I hated it, but gradually it became a part of me without me realising. I was frightened of saying my feelings out loud so I started writing in a place where no body I was acquainted with would know of it. I learnt to subjugate my voice, my feelings, my desires, my insecurities, my hopelessness.

    H O P E
    It's hard for me to seperate bleak and hope. To see them as two different words. It is my long lost friend, no longer acquainted to me.

    H A P P I N E S S
    I have been too habitual of feeling sad or perhaps of feeling nothing, when happiness comes to me I distance it, as if it would burn me. Like sadness is inevitable and happiness just a facade.

    F R I E N D S
    I've lost friends more than I can think of. Not because I find joy in leaving people or in isolating myself, but I don't feel it in me, to engage myself into conversations with much people. I hate socialising, and peeking into the world I don't feel I belong. Isolation thus is not a choice, but the outcome.

    H A T E
    I know that it does you more harm than the person you have that for. Just the mere thought of hating someone snatches from you the right to be at peace, but I can't stop myself from hating the way I am. I hate this insecure, this loser me.

    L O V E
    It is subjective. It is the most captivating thorn for the broken one. The most beautiful thing for the one draped in it, a myth for the one tired of the concept of it. For me? It is just a word. With meaning beyond the compilation of any letters. And its thought, distant.

    ©sadiaquadir



    P.s: saw people writing this way, wanted to write in the same way myself.

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  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 54w

    Inspired from 'The book thief'; Death narrated the story there, here narrates Life.

    'Life' here is portrayed as 'someone' who is capable of feeling.

    #darkalert

    _________________________________________________

    I am getting used to the growing silences between me and her, every day she comes home with a fresh cut mark on her wrist, I get more distant from her. Someday I would lose touch with her completely, someday she would vanish (I hope the day does not come soon). Every day she tries to harm herself, she gets fainter....and.....fainter to me...

    She came home from her usual evening walk today, my eyes stood searching for a fresh cut mark on her wrist yet again and there it was, deep at the beginning, like all her frustrations gathered at one point and shallow as it proceeded, like she was afraid or perhaps because she still wants to live? It's hard to find out for she is so hard to read these days, but this time I gathered enough courage to ask her finally, 'Don't you want to live?', 'Doesn't it hurt?', and all I got hold of in return was silence, I waited for what seems like a decade and then she answered ever so slowly, 'when the pain inside your head is greater, the cut marks doesn't burn'. Sometimes she seems a destitute to me, trapped in the confinement of her house with so much, but nothing she would find interesting enough to engage herself in. She liked to paint though, mostly she would paint things that go unnoticed to people, she would say 'I feel connected to them' and I would smile at her attempt to include things that are left out, what I did not notice is, she was the character in her painting, the painting was her..
    I am trying not to get affected by her piercing silence so much, sometimes I succeed, but sometimes it kills me. Sometimes my heart gets so heavied by it, I cannot move; sometimes my chest aches like someone stabbed my heart a thousand times and left the knife there, leaving me in pain..
    She stood facing the window of her room, her eyes fixed at something distant, and I stood there gazing at her ashen face with no hope left in it, like someone dug a straw in her head and sucked it out completely. I parted my lips to speak 'l am cruel I know, but I am beautiful too, I know that you're tired, but you're strong to get along with all this and I believe in you', but my voice died in my throat.
    She ascended to her roof and stood at the railing with her hands spread out, she had done this several times before, but this time the glint in her eyes broke something in me, I knew in those fraction of seconds what is about to unfold and I screamed for her to climb off and that 'we will sort things out', but she jumped with her eyes wide open, staring right into me. I smiled a last goodbye, witnessing her head throb to the cemented floor. With every drop of blood oozing out of her head, I found my existence vanishing and I vanished before she met hands with Death at last....

    _sadiaquadir

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  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 56w

    I kept saying 'beautiful' to every flower I came across, and when I finally found the one I could not take my eyes off, I uttered 'beautiful' in astonishment, but it didn't believe despite my several attempts of confessing how true I were! For the word already had lost its meaning.

    ©_sad_ia_quad_ir_

  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 59w

    I had my share of bad, bad days for way too long
    Happiness wrapped itself
    in the blanket of bleak hope...
    For an eternity I kept finding it
    in places people said it belonged,
    And when the whole world slept
    I stood searching it in places it was forbidden
    Sometimes it would show itself, smiling, from a distance
    Disappearing at the touch of me
    As if mocking me
    With each passing day I grew frustrated and
    lost hopes of ever finding it
    And then one day it came knocking at my door
    I slammed it open and stood transfixed
    With tears moistening my barren cheeks
    I clutched it and howled under its soft arms
    Few days passed...
    And when the demon
    Surfaced beneath the face of happiness
    Showed itself
    I thought it is just a part of it
    I kept feeding it with my love nonetheless
    Shivering to my bones
    at the thought of it leaving me again...
    When its appetite didn't fill
    I poured it my soul,
    And the gleam my eyes had,
    My desires
    I kept pouring and pouring
    Until all I had within was void reverberating
    Days passed
    Months passed..
    And when I saw my father crying for the second time
    I didn't cry, I didn't shed a tear
    Few days after
    My brother committed suicide
    and I stood there watching an inexplicable point,
    without feeling a thing
    I didn't stop my brother when he slammed open
    the front door of our house
    and left without saying a thing
    All I could hear were voices
    And I couldn't quite distinguish
    It was the voices within or outside
    I made my way to my bed and coiled under layers of blankets
    Tears didn't come
    Days passed
    I forgot the taste of it
    And when one day
    the voices in my head went deafening
    I shivered at the feel of something liquid,
    Something strange and unfamiliar
    Dampening my barren cheeks
    And I cried
    And cried...

    ©_sad_ia_quad_ir_

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  • _sad_ia_quad_ir_ 61w

    I am not haunted by the walls anymore, but the gap between my bed and ceiling that no longer comprises of just molecules, but despair and gloom. Every night I lay myself on bed, I feel weighed down, panting I can not fathom what to do and how not to feel that way, so I cry, and reach out for my phone, finding things to engage myself in, with nothing working out, make my way, to the bathroom floor and sit there wondering, the floor's more cold or me within? I don't know if I am tired of me not trying hard enough or things not working out. I feel irritated at things I cry and things I don't cry at. My own smile seems so deceptive at times, I hate it. I hate how my vocal chord fails, everytime I try to confess, to that one guy, I've been madly in love with. And everytime I want to ask him to stay a little longer. I don't find joy in saying I am fine, when actually I am not, but I never could find ways, to define things, as the way they were, I don't even know if I have sufficient words to describe this sinking feeling within or perhaps I ain't good enough. Either way, it sucks. I stay quiet, though I didn't choose it nor would I be willing to. I tell people I am feeling 'odd' and they oblivious of what it comprises, ask me what exactly, I never had answer to it and I say 'just odd'. For in the truth I don't know myself what does odd refers to and how can something be relieved when you cannot actually indicate what it is. My eyes burn with sleepiness and I keep changing sides to get that warmth I didn't have to find erstwhile. My own home does not gives me the comfort anymore, I want to run out of it to nowhere. I don't like things I do, lying on bed with no human to talk to and nothing to look forward to. I hate how I don't possess the strength to utter a word while my insides are burning with hatred, while the voices in my head is so deafening. I hate the way I am losing weight, I hate how my skin looks so pale, with my eyes sunken deep. I hate how I've lost the appetite of exploring a thing. I hate to see my abandoned skates with dust settled on it from ages. I hate it, all of it, for they remind me of how I looked forward to finding joys in things. And lying on bed in daylight was always my last option. Gripped by these facts I stay infuriated all day, victimizing myself with thoughts of self harm. I often wonder if it is the demon in the dark I fear or what lies within.

    ©sadiaquadir

    P.s: Please no word of consolation. Just felt like venting out.

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