Spilled Ink - Tumblr Posts

The sun bites down on my shoulder

I’m humming a song I can’t remember where I got it from; I think you sang it once when I was in the back seat of your car as we wound up the mountains. I put in my head that it was supposed to keep you out, but I’m singing your favorite song on my only free day. My childish defiance of your affection but you still find a way through me.

It’s warm, and I’m laying down against a beach lounge, letting the sun soak into my brown skin. It kisses me and I feel myself turning red, I know you hate it. I have my sunglasses on, and I act like I can’t hear anything except the sound of the waves breathing down my neck.

You kneel at my feet, where you belong, offering me a cup with a touch of kindness. As our hands briefly meet, I lower my sunglasses, allowing you to see the smile that reaches my eyes so you know I mean it, despite the darkened bags beneath them in the sunlight. With a whispered “thank you,” I take a sip, only to swallow the grit of sand you’ve placed in the cup.

I don’t want to grant you the satisfaction of my discomfort, I swallow without betraying my realization. It’s only later, in the quiet of my bathroom, that I cough it up, clutching the edges of the mirror. Through my blurred vision, all I can discern is the streak of teary eyeliner tracing down my face. I can’t even recognize myself but I know I’m stubborn and you exploit that until my skin burns with rashes worse than the sun could ever. Even months later, I still find myself coughing up bits of sand.

Grocery List

Remember to get raw meat—the kind that resembles the palms of your hands before they turn into angry fists; also, get tomatoes, you’ll know it’s good when it’s as red as your face like when you’re about to burst out of frustration; bite your own tongue, nobody believes a girl your age, instead, pick up some cow tongue for tonight’s curry; leave your heart to rest at home, people become greedy and grabby over things that aren’t theirs; grab milk, skip the skim, you’re not here to impress anyone; get this brand of chai masala, the one that impresses a man, but not enough to make him stay; skip the clothing store; find a salwar kameez cut from the same cloth as you and me, it’s cheaper that way; make sure you grab a newspaper on your way back; don’t stay out too late, it gets dangerous; have you heard about the mother who intentionally broke her daughter’s leg to save her? no amma, and please don’t do that to me, I promise I'll come home to you every night, just like I always do, I have nowhere else to go; only buy this particular brand of sugar, it’s sweet enough to satisfy a man’s desires yet respectful enough to safeguard a woman’s integrity; your split ends need attention; get bhringaraja oil, almond oil, and alma oil—specifically Dabur Vatika, not Parachute, that’s what you’ll need to grow hair long enough to keep you warm on cold nights, when there’s nobody to hold you; no need for jasmine perfumes; bottle your sadness into a scent, like the salty oceans out front; pick up some basmati rice; it’s just around the corner from the mishti store—what, you don’t know where it is? no, ma, there’s nothing there, the mishti store hasn’t been around for years; there was one, at least when I was younger; it must have been Pakistan that razed it to the ground; flames would seep from ruptured points and exit wounds on the streets as I made my way home from school; did you know they would sell rasgulla and rajbhog for a couple hundred taka? just like the amount your parents sold you off? Was it love then?; Mamoni, if it’s love that you’re looking for, you won’t find it for sale anywhere, true love only exists in poetry and books; can’t I buy books and read it out loud enough times until it becomes real enough for me to hold it in my hands?; mark off the food mold at the top of the list; it seems like it’s already shaped you into the woman you needed to become; don’t flash anger on me; anger is what a man exhibits when feeling insecure; are you any less than a man? no, amma, but sometimes I feel lesser than the lizards that crawl out inbetween the cracks of our walls at night; it’s not cruel; our ammas make us do this too, turning us into constant wars in our minds with no clear sight of the goal and out of reach; don’t look too deeply into the man with kajal under his eyes, dressed in a black kurti, even if he greets you with his hands down; he’s not the type to pen dramatic shayaris for you during arguments; he’s fluent only in Hindi, can’t even read Sanskrit, while you effortlessly weave poetry in Bengali, Hindi, Arabic, and hold onto the little Urdu you know, only because I raised you that way; he won’t opt for rickshaws or autos when you can easily walk the 8-minute distance to the grocery store; he’ll buy you the saris; he’ll buy you the jhumkas; he’ll even buy you the mendhi but won’t learn how to apply it for you; he won’t treat you to pani puri from the street vendor outside or let you coax the older bhai to add more chili powder to the mysterious liquid that’ll most definitely give you food poisoning; he won’t center your bindi for you; won’t allow you to adjust the collar of his kurti; doesn’t even consider offering you the last samosa; he’s a man raised among girls who were taught that their thoughts speak louder than words, and sometimes, not to speak at all; he won’t let you experience the freedom you have with me; don’t even entertain the idea of leaving me; oh, and one last thing, don’t forget to wear that dupatta; you always forget; sometimes, I think you do it deliberately to upset me

There are some places that are magical and that I can escape to

🍃🫧

i’m going to smoke about this because if I don’t, I will text you. And the one thing I can’t do is text you. Well actually if I could I would call you but I’m smart enough to block your number. I never unblock once blocked. I miss the way you made me feel wanted, like I had someone in this world that would care about me, obsession is my favorite kind of love language. You seem to like me for being the crazy chick that couldn’t get her life together I guess now I have to be the chick that gets her life together. How could you see a person once and feel lifetimes that you spent with them; just to go home and realize it would never work out in this life time. That doesn’t seem fair to me…

During my last breakdown, I texted you, you felt so there for me I guess some part of me will never be able to let that go. We have to move on sometimes cause our hearts know what we truly desire in this lifetime. The part that messes me up the most is in this lifetime versus every other lifetime.

#ziggyout✨🔮💅

Like Phases of the Moon

To my parents I am waxing and To my sister I am waning To many I am new, unseen and mysterious. Never do I fully show myself to those around me…only to those I deem worthy, If I present to you in my full glory you must know you are special, you have been chosen to seem me as I am. I am a complex web of something quite simple, built to forever stand out in space amongst the many planets who demand majority’s attention Overlook but not underestimated, I am like the moon. -For the Outcasts

Maybe we are all crazy, that’s why we search for love in places it can never be found.

4 a.m. thoughts

They say the truth will set you free, So why am I still here?

God If You Are Above by Falling In Reverse

And then, just like that, we became strangers to each other.

4 a.m. thoughts, words better left unsaid

Eyes like islands in the ocean

The waves of your iris pulling me in

A rip current that can’t be escaped

Sailing toward the whirlpool of your pupil

Drowning in your soul

-These Windows Are Dangerous

The turmoil inside me has begun to settle

That should be a good thing

But now I just feel empty

As if the war inside of me has accepted its defeat

But has not lost hope

I see in your eyes your love for her

And your curiosity of me

I feel in your touch the “what if” of taking it further

The want to do it again

But now I’m wondering if I’ve become an experiment

If these feelings are worth pursuing

Or if the only time I am worthy of your affection

Is when we both have something to blame it on

- It’s not real if we aren’t sober

“I follow up the quest despite of day and night and death and hell.”

- Lord Alfred Tennyson

I am not the whiskey you want nor the water you need, I am the champagne you cannot afford

What Does Sorry Mean?

What was it you used to say?  What was it you told me everyday? Written in my head with ink and pen  Is "I'm sorry means I won't do it again"  How were you the one teaching me When sorry is the last thing you could ever be?  Now my mom is crying And my sister is mad What does sorry mean again, Dad? Seventy times seven That's how many times I was supposed to Forgive your crimes And I did for every bruise You left on my mind But if I could choose I would have torn you apart Because you did the same To a nine year old's heart And for every lie you told me You twisted me to be like you And now I'm just as angry As my dad is too I want to go home, To the safety I once knew But it isn't real It was never true And now that you're gone I don't even feel sad Because the monster under my bed Is really my dad I can't get you out of my head I scream to drown out your voice I'm clawing my skin You left me with no other choice Just say that you're sorry So that we can move on I'll even lie for you Though I know it's wrong I wish I could say That I'd to it again To go back To who I had been But there will still be cracks On a mended vase Crying tears Has left grooves in my face A child in the woods Is wandering around lost You wanted power And you didn't care about the cost I know you're not sorry  I don't want to forgive Some days I don't even  Want to live I hope one day I do I hope I have another start But in the meantime I'm bandaging  A child's heart

“A healthy relationship is where two independent people just make a deal that they will help the other person be the best version of themselves.”

— Unknown

Farewell

Your cold fingers entwined with mine Snow collects on our shoulders and coats I felt like I’d winter within my throat

We walked from your home to the riverbank And stood on the frozen sand for a while To watch the passing and traveling boats (The city was glowing against the sky)

You sang a soft melody there by the Rhine Then, with a smile, you disappeared Into my heart on the riverbank And I felt like I’d winter within my throat

original writing / do not repost

When they told me that they felt nothing, I was confused. How could someone feel nothing I wondered? Because if you're feeling nothing then aren't you feeling something?

But now I understand, feeling nothing isn't just a lack of feeling. It's a feeling of emptiness. It's a guilt that you carry around because you can't force yourself to feel something for someone else, for that little boy down the road who just lost his parents, or the people on the street that are starving every night, even though you know that what they're going through is tragic and that you should feel something for them, no; need too.

It's like you're in a black hole where you're emotions are there in front of you but you just can't reach it, it's something that no one can heal, not even ourselves.

And now that I understand, I wish I was still that person that was clueless about these emotions, because even though I didn't understand I could still sympathize and offer what I use to think was comfort. And that might sound selfish, but I know that you'd do it too.

I'm not sure if everyone's confidence is authentic, including ours. We plan our future together when we don't even know what we're doing after the sun rises in the morrow, isn't it scary? The expectations of everyone around us, judging our every move and giving advice, thinking we're a mirror image of their younger selves where everything in their lives took a turn for the worse. Their disappointing stares and comments, our anxiety filled hope that everything will work out and we won't be left heartbroken and alone, still caught up with the ghosts of our past and future, where nothing is certain, but everything is set in stone by the higher power of our world. Our personalities are so similar yet so different, we went through different things, and we chose the same toxic coping methods, yet only one of us has changed and sought to grow and heal. I'm not sure if we can suffer the future together, but I know that I'd do anything to stay by your side, even if that means going for an eternal sleep until our Lord returns and rescues us from our woes. We've gotten to the stage where I'm unsure if my love for you is an unhealthy obsession, but if it is then there needs to be an intervention. I would die for you, but not in the jokingly I would take a bullet just to prove my love, in the sense of irreparable damage, of fracturing my soul just to be in your presence. Now will you listen? I have so much to say but I don't even know if you will hear me, I move to fast but not in the physical sense, in the sense that I'm already picturing our wedding and what our kids will look like, I'm a romantic but you're scared of commitment, where I would commit my entire life to serve you in an instant. Isn't it scary? This life we lead, where we tell each other we're okay, but inside we're terrified of what's going to happen and we both know it. Do you know what you did when you put your name at the end of mine and then said you couldn't promise anything? Not even that you'd try to make it happen with me. It was the most beautiful and heartbreaking day of my life. Why can't you think before you say? We were only joking, and you said that line with such sincerity that I almost believed that we were already at the altar, but can you blame me when you look at me in that way that feels like I'm the only person in your life, that makes me melt and trip over my words like a nervous wreck. The truth is I'm terrified, terrified that one day you'll look at me and give up, that you'll no longer be interested in spending our lives together and starting a family, and it might be irrational but I don't feel worthy of you, and everything that people are saying fuels my anxiety, and if I could just look into your eyes and listen to you tell me how everything will be okay and that we'll get through all of our trials together, I'll truly be at rest. Because the truly irrational thing is that I trust you with everything I have, even though you tell me not too.

Thinking about how differently the west and the east profess the same thing.

Hey, I'm going to the store now. Let me know if you need anything. I love you. / I'm going out now, where's your shopping list?

No, you're amazing! You're precious, they don't know what they're talking about! I know it was mean, but but don't let it bother you, okay? Stop crying, please? / They said that? Retards. Like c'mon, have they looked at themselves in the mirror? Donkeys. Now wash your face, it's all red.

I know I was angry, and I said some awful things, but... forgive me? / Hey. Here's some peeled fruit. Stop sulking, okay?

I think that it's because the west sees love as a a form of affirmation- I love you, here these flowers are for you. I'm here for you. I see you. Stay safe- and the east sees it as a form of expression- I bought you pens because you ran out, now give me those chocolates. Come on, I'll talk to those idiots for you. You're working hard, stop it before you get stupider than you are- and I think it's beautiful.

Clouds

let us take a moment to appreciate the clouds the passages of time sheltering us from a world so loud the subjects of our gaze when we're in cheerful vain the peaceful soothers of unbearable pain