a safe space

leave me a love letter

[withastorytotell]

Pretty girls pretty girls everywhere

I dont think those ones looking to the sea are really aware

That them just sitting at the shore

Brings peace to another's mind

Yes little miss, pardon me

For I am sure onlooking sounds a bit creepy

But look at this

I'm writing a crappy little piece of art like it's a master piece

Like a switched on fuse

And you are the muse yet unaware

So still, with your eyes closed

I bet it'd feel like a fairytale if the sunset shows on your lips and skin and lashes

There are so many pretty girls every where and I'm a girl sitting behind you

Eased even if to you, I'm nowhere near.

There's so much wonder in sitting without a care

Such serenity with just the wind passing through my hair

So yes darlings, even if life doesn't seem all that fair

All these titles and pennies and stresses

Do you think they matter

The seas, temples, libraries and gardens

The walking paths, shores and the smiles with the small talks with shared food are fonder messes

Life is simpler when your priorities are clearer

The world says hold on don't feel limited

Yet only lettin go has ever made me feel limitless.

Oct 09th

In the washroom

With a dire need for expression

[withastorytotell]

MORE GOOD THAN GREEDY

[withastorytotell]

I try to find God in people even those i meet for the first time. I believe we are more good than greedy

-Brene Brown

[withastorytotell]

I love how the happiest creatures got a little belly going on. Garfield. Snoopy. Winnie the Pooh. May this Christmas you bless your round little belly a scrumptious and merry celebration

[withastorytotell]

I worry whether I'd have to remind my husband to call our daughter his little princess

[withastorytotell]

I hate how much love makes me cry.

[withastorytotell]

I got to offer kindness. And love. And care. Genuinely. Without boundaries. What I offered came back to me. And it shook me to my core because I didn't want it. There was once a boy that cared too much for me. He didn't worry about being a cast away with his friends or that he was judged for alot. He walked funny. Loved dancing and dreaming. Craved love and kindness. Was the most considerate person. He said that I was such a patient and kind girl. That I was rugged. He said that he was someone who always frowned and angry and judgemental but after me he was smiley more and spoke more often even to strangers. I had a boy who was younger and cared so much that he would cross a street just to cross it right back with me and the kind of guy that jumped in place upon seeing me and hearing my voice. I had a boy. Who listened or tried to. Who smiled seeing my face. Who noticed my changes and struggled very hard about getting me a gift for my birthday and apologizing for the delay in delivering it. I had a boy who touched me carefully out of respect even when I hugged him. Someone who worshipped my knee if he accidentally knocked it. Someone who cared that I ate and called my smile beautiful. He was someone who compared me to an actress and worried when I was silent and would break a laugh when I was silently just looking at him. I had a boy who was ready to fight the customers for me and the supervisors for me. Not caring whether it was my fault or not. A boy who wanted to get away and do that hindu thing where no aswaha katawaha can come near. So sweet. He'd always tell me. It was too soft for me. But I could've never said no to him. I would have married him if he asked me to. Because he wanted me to feel loved and was there for me like a storm that made a grand presence. A shameless choice. A dedicated gentleman. I feel like a third person interrupting a story. But damn that girl he cherished so much, damn she was lucky

[withastorytotell]

you see, it's true. You gotta get clean. No one will do it for you and no one can do it any better for you than you. Whether it's from intoxication or just getting a shower or cleaning your house, if you don't do it well, no one will do it for you like it's life or death. It's true nobody cares that much. Even the lover that would die and kill for you wouldn't care all that much if you hadn't changed the sheets for an entire year. But you know that could potentially kill you. There's so much responsibility in this world for you to make it worth living for and maybe that starts with choosing yourself and saving yourself. Change your sheets and get fresh air.

[withastorytotell]

The ugly truth is that if you choose to, you can rot in bed all day. No one will kill you for doing nothing. You can literally just be aimless and live for no purpose at all. The stress and worry and anxiety is not real. You have free will and your life is yours. But I'm here to confirm that your stressors are mostly your savers. Try living a life where waking up to nothing and living for nothing is your reality. Tell me how that life is fulfilling when all you have is nothing worth it.

[withastorytotell]

my headspace is not any better either. So I'm constantly in search of something worth going insane for before I lose my head. The things I have to do to keep my head above water is out of this world and everyday is a search for something tougher and then looking at it questioning why I should do it. But there's small realisation sometimes, though it comes rarely, that we are made to do hard for the reason of existence. That we are animals made for survival and that gives some comfort.

[withastorytotell]

How you do anything is how you do anything

[withastorytotell]

you see, as much as you think you got so much time, you gotta get it. That time is an illusion.

[withastorytotell]

[withastorytotell]

dearest history makers,

I have arrived to press on the matter that you my child has to outlast the drama. And even better create more of it. It says that us animals of regrets thrive off on the arts. More for the craze of it than its beauty. I reckon it's more because we are made of insanity and stardust. What's so great about this world of reality if that even exists? It's all mix and match, dear. None of it is real. So child, this grief and sorrow and madness of living, outlast it and emerge. Create. Let the exhilaration of it all bring out a beast that we are made to submerge. All that is wondrous is broken just a little bit. And then maybe a little bit more. And dear when you can go out there and ravage a carcass whoever convinced you should have to sit and watch?

Your madhatter professor,

Gin

With love

[withastorytotell]

dearest hamshira (sister),

It's true, poverty is a cruel little thing. When there's dust to eat and the kids are crying because it's hot and there's no bed to sleep. It's different in the worst of ways because there was before war and it didn't used to be this way. There was laughter and sweet nothing whisperings in corner alleys, there was running around and freedom and education. Hamshira, then there was after war. Mothers lose their children, and then lose their minds. Fathers endure. Parents are dead and it's lost hope when no one comes home. Sometimes even if you lose a lot, you don't see it much when you had not much to lose. Especially when it's war at home and the greatest enemy is all you have to depend on. Then again there are times when two wives come together to protect their children against their misfortune. Then chai and halwa under the starry skies and braided hair and dreams of knowledge and endless possibilities flourished. Some lovers come back too later. And if one wife murders a husband to protect another, you cannot justify against the child that loved his father. But a man's heart doesn't stretch like a womb does to accommodate. A wretched little thing. Poverty and survival is crazy. Some kind of suffering must cease to exist. Man down and one warrior woman rock stone hearted dead. Perhaps they all just wanted to die with love. Laila will tell little Aziza, Mariam, that she is the noor of your eyes and the sultan of your heart. If you had to commit these sins and all these bad decisions, it had to be forgiven. Grief is love persevering under a thousand splendid suns. Somehow the war never ends.

A direly affected reader,

Gin

With love

[withastorytotell]

Dearest of all,

I deem it my responsibility to make aware that you are meant to be heard and seen and felt in so many ways than you perceive. I reckon its difficult for you to give birth to all these ways of yours. But you are an artist. However it may be, song writing, drawing, painting, colouring, cooking, baking, singing, dancing, performing, writing, you are an artist. However worse at it you may be. You are an athlete, whatever you do, swimming, walking, running, jumping, skipping, golfing, cycling, whatever fits you. You are beyond a desk job and string of thoughts dearest. You are a Silicon Valley of ideas and mesmerising effects. May you not let the world reduce you only because you trade 8 hours a day for a remuneration. While I press that it is not evil to be employed, may it be your means to live out what you love instead of being all that you are. Do not forget my dearest, a child within you once wished to do so much more, let her live it out. You are all she has.

Your gentle reminder,

Gin,

With love.

[withastorytotell]

Dearest living creatures,

I'm here to report that time has arrived that we are hearing less thoughts arising from ourselves. Witnessing a myriad of external noise and opinions might kill your own. Creation is supreme than consumption. Regulation of one's own emotions and understanding your own trail of thought is imperative. Dearest creatures, understand that you miss out on nothing without interaction on an interface. I leave my note here. Stop missing out on yourself love. The world can sit back.

Your eager companion,

Gin

With love.