#excerpts from my heart

The feminine urge to let down my whole career, run away and start over as a farmer in a cottage somewhere.

Pump liquor through your veins love is such a pain.

Wednesday, 27th October

the death of beauty as we know it

“Cracking open a ginger ale in the harsh cold of October with brown rimmed glasses sliding down my nose bridge ever so often, I tried to find warmth in the layers of my coat. To a random passer-by I certainly looked mad as I gathered up small, yellow leaves to mark the quotes in my book-but I’d like to think that the characters adorning those pages would have been infatuated by me.                  Franz Gordon’s “The French Library” was blasting through my ears, and yet it was unsuccessful when it came to taming down the noise of the outside world. Cars were racing left and right, their engines roaring and klaxons honking repeatedly. In some ways the noise had been appropriate, it matched Richard’s state of mind whilst he was in Plano. Oh, but the headlights were horrific, they made my eyes hurt terribly, and even words blurred up from time to time.            The ginger ale wasn’t sitting right with me, more so, it was actually making me sick; yet, I continued to drink it. Was that a form of self-torture as well? Probably, I didn’t care that much.                                    I was so absorbed in the book, that finally, the world had turned silent. Recently, I had learnt that there is no stillness in big cities. There is no time for rest, silence and peace. The world of men appears too never be silent. Even the nights are noisy. I had craved silence and solitude for so long and rereading “The Secret History” has finally brought them to me.”                                                                  -an excerpt from my journal entry

You know what I hate the most?

I hate you for always being there for her as much as I want you to be with me. I hate the way you look onto her, the way you hold her because for a moment, I felt like she was holding my universe. I hate it when you always have to leave me just because you will need to fetch her and ask her out. I hate the fact that even when you left me, I am still a fool waiting for you to return. I hate it when you ask me about what she likes, about the things that make her uncomfortable, I hate it when you always pay attention to the things she love to do, while I am stuck here, seeing how persistent you are on waiting for her. I hate the smile you wear as her name flashes your screen. I hate the way you misses her. I hate the way you talk to her, I hate the way you bring her name on our conversation. I hate the way you tell me how much you love her and the things you are willing to risk for her. I hate it. I hate how dense you are. I hate the fact that after all these years, you never noticed me, but I am still clinging onto you. I hate the fact that I love you as much as you love her. I was here even before she came and I will probably be here if she decided to leave you one morning. The fact that I have to support your love for her and I can’t compete with her because she’s way better than me, slowly kills me.

I was waiting for you to look at me too, but maybe I will stay like this, loving you in silence.

—the danger of one sided love j.a

He is more myself than i am

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.

- Emily Brontë

‌“and it was my birthday. I looked at my phone — waiting to see your name popping up in my notification, hoping that you’d be the first one to wish me. Before that night, I had no idea that an event could make so much of a difference — even though you told me the next day you didn’t forget, I had realised that I wasn’t as important as I thought I was — perhaps, that’s when I had lost you for the first time. Few days later, we had gotten into a fight — all I know is that it was my mistake but all it proved to me was that your ego meant more to you than the love you said you had in you. I assumed, that was it — I had broken your heart but you wrecked my soul when I found out that you’d been lying to me and I lost you one more time. On our last call — you said you love me but your actions recited a complete different story. I had lost all hope until tonight when I picked up my phone to dial your number and my heart refused because I no longer love you — I love the person I thought you were.” by memoirsofbilal (via Instagram)

— a very happy birthday