I forgot how to write.
Today, after a many months, I remember the tip toe down the stairs in darkness to pen down my theorization. Bordered with haram lines, there was this ecstasy that flew in me at the thought of writing my mayhem. It is long gone now; not writing became the habit.
Life is an irony master. Time shall prove you wrong the things that you so really believed. She, The Diary Addict was once a naked truth back in high school; every January first marked her friends shelling out thick paged books, that got her running around getting her friends sign it at the back cover. Words took into life so easily those days; it was not a hard work. It was my picnic, my happy place. 'The Diary of a Young Girl' which was once a spur, is now a book marked thought that drew a blank.
Since then, her friends list were filtered for good, priorities changed, relationships made- the silly lad has become the woman and has a bun in the oven already, wa lillaahil hamd!
The Petrichor that I felt two Novemebers back is snoring its breath out happily at 1 : 53 am of this Thursday. I mean, life has been good to the one who is talking to you.
So even though the first statement is true, it's quoted with the paint of voice- of contentment and no regrets.
Today, after a many months, I remember the tip toe down the stairs in darkness to pen down my theorization. Bordered with haram lines, there was this ecstasy that flew in me at the thought of writing my mayhem. It is long gone now; not writing became the habit.
Life is an irony master. Time shall prove you wrong the things that you so really believed. She, The Diary Addict was once a naked truth back in high school; every January first marked her friends shelling out thick paged books, that got her running around getting her friends sign it at the back cover. Words took into life so easily those days; it was not a hard work. It was my picnic, my happy place. 'The Diary of a Young Girl' which was once a spur, is now a book marked thought that drew a blank.
Since then, her friends list were filtered for good, priorities changed, relationships made- the silly lad has become the woman and has a bun in the oven already, wa lillaahil hamd!
The Petrichor that I felt two Novemebers back is snoring its breath out happily at 1 : 53 am of this Thursday. I mean, life has been good to the one who is talking to you.
So even though the first statement is true, it's quoted with the paint of voice- of contentment and no regrets.
