Something makes you Write

I am so done with writing a cliche story about my ‘so called’ love. Things get worse when you’re aging, yes, aging, not matured. I don’t know how I would portray this note. Because it is just an impromptu writing, literally I just write what I have in my mind.

Watching Jane the Virgin which is a remake of telenovela, push me to remember things. To remember what exactly done in a day. From the second I opened my eyes till now. It is full of moods. My MacBook Pro is having recurring disease, which is vertical line, something with the display (hope not for VGA). I am so grateful for who I am and what I’ve been going through, especially with my lethargic love-life.

Impromptu Writing about What Happened

I’ve been asking to my self, what really happen to me? Waiting or just playing around? There are so many things make me think about those option. Are you ready to take the next step in your life without someone you even never think of? Or waiting for someone whom full of uncertainty. Dude, I’m not trying to be bitch about it, but please, make me believe about what will happen. Because I just can’t simply go-hippy without an evaluation of state and strategy.

Two worlds. It is the most precise thing which could describe me. Try to ask my old self, will I really want to put off the freedom I’ve got just for a single man? Recalling to the first paragraph, I am not ready to be mature person. I don’t want to think about all aspects. To think about operational things, to think about assimilation of cultures. Have you heard about go big or go home? It is like I want to go home if I can’t get that ‘big’.


Lately, I’ve been busy with a group full of ladies talking about Pakistani man. Don’t judge me wrong, all I want to get is the culture, the hidden tribe of Khattak and things. I’ve been wanting to make a trilogy of a man, who is a lover, a husband and a father in three consecutive novel.

I can’t deny the fact that I get so little information about current ‘love affair’. All I know is he’s a MBBS student in northern Pakistan, he has lovely family and cute nephews and all. I don’t know about their culture of arranged marriage. At least we know the fact that he’s a man, which is likely has a triumph card about their own wives. But this is killing me, I keep wondering what if he got one. Like literally the girl he has mentioned is his soon-to-be-bride? Well, I can’t make sure of it.

There’s been a discussion about why some of us not interested to local men. I’ve tried so hard to like the local man, but that’s not it. Maybe I got a Stockholm Syndrome, but I didn’t feel safe with the local, unless it is for a friend.

I am making this impromptu writing is just to unleash my thought. This insecurity really hit me hard. I never got this kind of problem before, but looking at how they’re succeeding at their ‘wedding mission’ to Pakistani make me worried about my self. What if this won’t happen? What if I will be heartless because of bitterness which I got from this one?

Impromptu Writing about the End

There’s a day I asked my friend about the current situation. He said to me, he’s on his way to the ‘exit’, I don’t know what exit he’s been mentioning. Maybe I’ve been denial for this time, but I hope the I am in the exit, not the other way.

He was angry when I called him Doctor Saab. It is for the people whom not close to him, and he still introduce me as ‘bhabi’ to his friend, but he’s just there, ignoring me. Am I this denial or the truth is there? Truth is he’s busy with his struggling and the winter will be coming. Ah, I never told you that he’s my mirror, right? Well, yes, maybe he’s my mirror. The one who prefer doing things in her own way, rarely checkup on her boyfriend and all. That is so me, but right now I am in the position craving for attention and a little touch. (cont…)


error: If I were you, I won\'t try it.
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