Twenty ways.

I have another journal.

A blue one, sitting on my sidetable. One that I rarely open, because they're filled with words that, if they could, they would scream. Harsh words, strict words, words telling me to get back in line. To be good to myself, to not self-destruct. The writing in there changes so much, up to five times within a post. I do believe your handwriting reflects how you feel.

I opened it up again today, when I saw no other person to turn to. I sat out on the terrace, in the sunlight, trying to lighten the mood of whatever wine-dark sentences I wanted to let out. I couldn't.

I don't like knowing that I have one happy, normal blog and one dark blog. So I'm going to try to intertwine both together somehow. And maybe only today. Maybe never again after this.

Everybody has three lives: A public one, a private, and a secret. Public and private both go here. Secret goes nowhere. Nobody knows anybody's secret life, I can guarantee you. Even your best friend doesn't. Even your mother doesn't. That secret life makes you you. And you probably couldn't tell anyone even if you tried.

Aches. That stay with you even when you fight so hard for it not to. You do everything you can to distract you, you learned every possible code of distraction, of diversion, of looking somewhere else. And then there's just that one little thing, that might be so little to everyone else and it matters colossally to you, but you wish it didn't. You wish things like these didn't have to matter. It didn't matter when it was your cousin, or your friend. It mattered at the point when you really have to.

You want it out of your head, like you've drove everything else. 

I know something's bothering me when I've been awake for minutes but I still won't get out of bed. And yet I'm not finding a solution staying in it. I'm just letting my mind reel, through and through.

God, what I wouldn't do to be in New York right now. California, maybe.

There's nothing known as losing strength. If you were strong once, you will be. So I will be.

Knoweth.

To know a person is not just their personality and their likes and dislikes. You can't judge your basic analysis solely on that.

To know me, you have to hear the punjabi-like voice for when I'm talking to the help. The tart speech for when I'm bargaining in a bazaar. The relaxed, easy flowing tone with my friends. And the crisp vocabulary with elders and superiors.

You need to see me laugh, cry, swear, scream, sneeze and stay quiet and speechless.

To know me, you need to see me in day old pajamas, in a doctor's coat, in a casual get together, and at a wedding.

To know me, you have to not just know my likes and dislikes, but the reasons behind each one and why.

To know me, you have to see my hair curled, straightened, blow dried, let down, in a ponytail, and in a bun. Because I look like a different person each time.

To know me, you must know what I can tolerate and how high my threshold is, for anything. 

To know me, you have to see my smile, me bitten-to-the core fingernails, the two slight faded moles on one cheek, and the obvious birthmark.

To know, you need to see how I fish through my purse for my wallet, how my gait is exactly, how I move my hands when I talk, and when do I move it the most.

You need to know what makes me panic, what makes me calm, what upsets and delights me.

You need to know my habits, my OCD's, they way I stare off into space at times, and how I can't always look someone directly in the eye as they're speaking to me. 

To know someone, to claim to, you need to know everything.

 

Background happiness.

College is almost over! Just my last viva, on Wednesday, and that is it. I might sound self obsessed with studying, but the truth is, I'm surrounded by it all year round, so it feels like liberation when vacations come rolling. I have so many plans, and I can't wait to put them into action. 

Movies. Cousins. North. Islamabad. Maybe Peshawar. Shopping. Tailor. Food. Sewing. More food. 

This shall be fun.

H being in America is much easier now, I'm glad to observe and say. Everything feels all fit and snug. That's a strange way of putting it, but yes. It used to be, 'why does he have to go'. And now, it's 'he has to, and it's okay'. It sounds like just a change of how you think. But it's much harder than you know. That square one feeling was for that one day, after that I felt better knowing he's landed and there, and so we can now carry on with our lives. People go through long distance relationships all the time, there's no reason why I should feel any different. Or complain about it.

I'm going to eat mangoes today and watch "The Mist",a movie my friend's been after me to watch, going to the extent of actually downloading the movie for me and putting it in a USB. Whoa, okay. Lol.

Gourmet's Chocolate Chip ice cream (the litre pack) is absolute heaven. It tastes like international ice cream, like pure chocolate, not the milaawat wali cheezain. 

And on the other hand, Shezan's lychee juice bottle is disgusting. Had it for the first time today in college, and it was actually nasty. Sticking to the Shezan mango juice from now on.

Dad and brother are back from Dubai today! I didn't think I would've missed them so much. Or maybe I just want the things they're bringing back. I don't know. But I'm still excited. So, basically waiting for them.

I have been overloaded on fruits this year. And I love it. Watermelon, plums, mangoes, apricots, peaches, the works. It feels refreshing.

"Monday, tuesday, happy days, wednesday, thursday, happy days..."