Saturday, 18 February 2017

Stuffed in a casing, stained with teardrops.

I wrote the following poems by accident. I didn't want to think about the person they were about, because they would give me emotions I purposely kept stored away, and make me think about my life without them. I didn't want to think about what the poems meant or how they applied to my family and I. I really didn't want to. But- I did.

So here's to you, Nana. I will love you, forever.

And it's been
Almost a year,
Since he took
his last breath,
But, she still keeps
His bar of soap
On the bathroom shelf.
And the dust around it
Begins to settle,
But as time goes on,
She cannot seem to gather
The courage that it takes to let go
Of these worthless things he used to own.
Not the pants, or the shoes,
Or the material things
He never used,
But the small things
That still contain
Just a little bit
Of his remains.






 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's funny
how a persons
energy
Can take up
A whole room
But when they
Pass away
All that's left
of them
Is a drawer
full of
Little things
That you
can't remember them
Ever using






Until next time,
Mar.




Saturday, 31 December 2016

The Post That Was A Long Time Coming

To be honest, this post should have been made a long time ago. It should have been made when I created this blog, because truthfully, if you are here on my blog, looking through my pictures and reading about my life, this is something you should know.

You should know that there are people who come into your life at different times of the day. At different hours and different days of the week, as if they just felt like walking into it at that particular moment. The thing is though; it's only because it's meant to be. Nobody walks into your life when they are not meant to. The idea of this is something i have believed in my whole life. I am never going to stop believing in this. Things are meant to play out the way the do for a reason. We need to figure out that reason.

My thoughts are jumbled. I apologise.

But you should know that there's a purpose to you. There's a purpose to all of us. Maybe there's a purpose to me. Sometimes people walk out of your life. And sometimes those people are the ones who you love to the very depths of your heart. I sometimes walk to my grandfather's closet and take a deep breath in- because it still smells like him. The second I do, I immediately regret it- because tears spring to my eyes and I can't seem to be able to wake up from the terrible nightmare of having to accept that he is really gone. I don't want anyone else to go. If I had the means to do it, I would figure out a way to take the whole world and give it to the people I love.

I've often told my sister that. There are moments where my life is so hard and existing becomes so unbearable that I just want to close my eyes and breathe my last breath. And I look at my sister who has gone through so much worse than my teenage problems and I want to exist long enough to find a way for her to feel better. I want her to be the happiest person in the world. I want her to live her life as if she is at the pinnacle of success. I want to there to be a way for me to grab the world and place it in the palms of her hands. But my ability to do much for her is limited, so I just keep hoping that she knows that if I had the means to do it, I would take every chance there was.

To me, the loss of someone is the worst feeling. But that doesn't necessarily mean death. No, there is unfortunately a vast amount of ways for you to lose another person. I hate the ideas of goodbyes. Even the unceremonious ones where the casual acknowledgement of the others departure is enough to leave you breathless. And especially the ones where it's a goodbye that came out nowhere, and it leaves you blinded and cold because it came so suddenly and hit you with a knife- and you never said goodbye but both parties know it is just that. These are the goodbyes that bring about regret. They leave you wandering for days and make you shiver with sadness and loneliness. This is actually quite interesting because apparently a life lived with no regrets is one that has been lived well. Do you live a life that contains a few dreads of regret? I can tell you very honestly that I do. I currently stand with both feet on the ground, yet completely unstable.

Because I never said a proper goodbye. And I hate saying goodbyes.

There will be moments in your life where you want to choke yourself because of your own stupidity. Because your inability to properly express your feelings has left you on the verge of emptiness. No, sorry. I already feel empty. And it's my inability to express my feelings that has me right there. I've been stupid. I've made the worst mistakes and I've disappointed everyone I am around, ten times over. I've found newer ways to disappoint people when I get tired of the methods I had before. And it's all because I hate goodbyes. Well I hate the idea of goodbyes. Or maybe I hate the idea of talking - of feeling. I hate the idea of the fact that words are strong enough to make or break a person. Shakespeare being the greatest example of this, showed the world through the character of Othello, just how strong and harmful our words can me. Maybe we should stop using our words and stick with actions- since history has shown us that they're stronger, anyways. Maybe I should have used my actions. Maybe I should have hugged her longer, or held her hand when she needed to hold it. Maybe since I have a lack - or inability, thereof - of being unable to express my feelings through words I should find a way to do them with actions. But I can't help but feel so useless. I can't help but feel that I, as a person, am of no use to the people around me. I once jokingly told my sister that turtles serve no real purpose to the world, and now I am beginning to realise that maybe it's me that has no purpose. Maybe I'm the reason people leave. Maybe I'm the reason they always want to say goodbye.

Can I guarantee that I won't ruin things for someone else in the future? Oh man, I wish I could. I wish I could wake up from this never-ending downward spiral of self destruction. I wish I could tell the people that I love that I love them. I can do it through text. Why can't I say it to their face? Why can't I properly express myself? Why can't I tell anyone what I'm feeling, and what I have been feeling for so long? Why do I have issues with confrontation and why is my only way of dealing with it through the help of a substance engineered to tickle my brain and overcome my senses? Why can't I tell her I feel this to her face? She deserves to know what I feel, right? She deserves to know that it hurts not only her when I say the stupid things and act a certain way because it hurts me also. I want to fix it but I never know how.

And so, all I'm left with are goodbyes.

The goodbyes I don't know how to deal with and the goodbyes that crawl up behind my like a predator waiting to strike. Unexpectedly, fiercely, painfully, and awfully. I hate goodbyes.

And until I find the right words to say what I feel, here are some lyrics that do the trick.


'I'm not a hero/I'm a liar/I'm not a saviour/I'm a vampire, sucking the life out of all the friends I ever know/I'm just a train-wreck, not a winner/up on my soapbox/reaching down to the sinners/but they're not listening.'
Heros - All Time Low


I'm keeping quiet til there's no more sirens
Lately it's hard to keep the hinges on with all the noise
I'll find my words when there's no one talking
The room is spinning, I have got no choice
Be patient, I am getting to the point.

I can't remember when the earth turned slowly
So I just waited with the lights turned out again
I lost my place but I can't stop this story
I've found my way, but until then
I'm only spinning

I'm keeping quiet til the phone stops ringing
Lately it's hard to disconnect, I just want something real
I've found the words if I could just stop thinking
The room is spinning, I have got no choice
Be patient, I am getting to the point.

Spinning - Jack's Mannequin


There's an echo pulling out the meaning
Rescuing a nightmare from a dream
The voices in my head are always screaming
That none of this means anything to me

And it's a long way back from seventeen
The whispers turn into a scream
And I, I'm not coming home

Save your breath, I'm nearly
Bored to death and fading fast
Life is too short to last long
Back on Earth, I'm broken
Lost and cold and fading fast
Life is too short to last long

I think I met her when the rhythm was set down/I said sorry I'm a bit of a letdown

Bored to death - blink-182


Where are you?
And I'm so sorry.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight.
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time.

And as I stared I counted
The webs from all the spiders
Catching things and eating their insides.

Like indecision to call you
And hear your voice of treason.
Will you come home and stop this pain tonight?
Stop this pain tonight.

Don't waste your time on me.
You're already the voice inside my head.
(I miss you, miss you)

I Miss You - blink-182

I hope this helps explain things a little, even if it's not at all.

Until next time,
Mar.














Monday, 13 June 2016

A Man's World

I've decided that since I'm not getting any younger, and the world isn't changing very much, I'm going to finally let the world read my poetry. This is a part of me that nobody has ever seen into, nor even so much as peeked, and as much as the prospect of letting the world see this part of me is frightening, it is also quite thrilling. While the world suffers, and we are all lost in our individual head spaces, each of us wondering how our lives have gotten to this very point, how we have become who we currently are, I will write. While all of us sit within our own minds and let the world see a different face, here is one I hid away for so long. It frightens me. It thrills me. It excites me. Will they like me? Will they tell me to go back to braiding hair as I seem to know best? Here is me.

Man's Greed by Mareyah Abbas

Man's greed can be seen from space,
With the lights and the walls that illustrate our race.
Man's greed can be seen in the clouds,
When they move and collide, and form big shapes.
Man's greed can be seen with the wind,
When it crashes and throttles and illuminates our sins.

Man's greed is so severe,
So extreme and so surreal.
Man's greed can do so much-
do so little, and still have lust.
Man's greed is still so alive,
it's still so extreme- so personified.
Man's greed can never truly go,
Until man can learn,
What he is without his dough.


So that's the first poem I'm posting, I guess. I'm nervous, quite honestly. This poem is open to interpretation, but if I were to analyse it, I'd say look into how the Great Wall of China and the lights of Times Square can be seen from space. Then think about why we had to make something so prominent, as if we have to impress the emptiness in the zones above us. I'm not completely proud of this poem, but I've hopefully got better ones for later posts.

Until next time.


Tuesday, 10 May 2016

I never watch the Stars, there's so much Down Here

We are young, we are the dreamers, we will rise.
When the world will not believe us, we will rise above the ashes, before this whole life passes us by. 
You and I, we will rise. 


And while the world confuses you, you will find yourself falling deeper into the security of your daydream. 
And while you whisper the lyrics to a song that touch you to your core, you will find yourself feeling as if the stars understand you. 


I don't make much sense today. I can't get my thoughts in order and I can't stop my brain from walking and exploring territories that I had locked away for the sake of my own sanity. I can't seem to pinpoint the moment where I began to feel this way but it is now that I acknowledge that it has been happening for a while. Am I falling into the pits of melancholy and allowing myself to be forced into the shadows? What sets me apart from the rest of society? 
There's so much of the world for me to see. So many things I have never done. But the fears- there's so many fears- and the worries, they force my craving for wanderlust into the very depths of my heart, unreachable and explosive. I am closer to a resolution, but I am still confused. I do not want to be blended in. I want to stand out. Oh Lord, let me stand out. I want to be different, but the fears return. I am afraid. I am worried. Am I also alone? 
But this world is big, and the stars are plenty. I won't look up, because there's so much beauty. Be alert, be alive.
Who will accompany me as I explore the doors in my head labelled SPLENDID ISOLATION? Who will stand by as I let go of the railings and fall- fall- tumble and crash? Will they watch or will they assist? Will they miss me when I'm gone? 





































What a strange world, what a strange life.
It's a beautiful world, it's a beautiful life.

---I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm.
And the scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold,
My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones,
It keeps my veins hot, the fire's found a home in me.
I move through town, I'm quiet like a fight,
And my necklace is of rope, I tie it and untie.

And now people talk to me, but nothing ever hits home
People talk to me, and all the voices just burn holes.
I'm done with it
We're at the start, the colours disappear
I never watch the stars, there’s so much down here
So I just try to keep up with the red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart.---

If I repeated any pictures.. idk deal with it. 




Sunday, 17 April 2016

How Small You Must Feel, in This World So Big,

I've been in this world. I am in this world. Time and time again, I look at the lights in buildings, and the lights that blink from cars, and it hits me, that while I may suffer alone in the echoing space in my head, around me, everyone is suffering. There are people, who have lives like mine. There are girls who were once sixteen and hated everything about themselves. There were boys who were more than just the football team their family supported. There are billions of humans currently alive. I am one of them. If you are reading this, you are one of them. We are alive. And while we tend to shut out the voices from our loved ones, and convulse within ourselves, we often forget- or rather, never realise- that there are billions of humans living on this planet. There may even be life beyond earth. What is their story? Who is suffering just like me? Who just lost a loved one? Who was just born, innocent and little, ready to write a story of their own? Who, much like me, is engulfed in such complexing thoughts that their surroundings become a distraction in their quest to solve their convolution?

And just like that, your problems are made small. You, yourself, are made small. Nothing about you matters any more, because there are billions who are suffering like you. There are billions stuck in a daydream, trying not to let life pass them by. There are billions with a brain that creates a new memory, that takes in a new image, a new colour, a new brain cell that contains information beyond ordinary imagination. How small do you feel now? I got a very little taste of it in New York. Might I say, that the adventure of being in a city with people whose brains and hearts work much like mine was comforting. It brings a whole new meaning to the word life, and it made me grow, in a way I doubt I can explain without sounding on the edge of a maddening youth, whose thoughts are merely enhanced by a severe craving to feel not alone. But I am not alone. There are billions of people in this world. Billions of people with thoughts like mine, and problems that escalate above the embryonic ones I consume myself in. Now I feel small, in this world, so big. 





A thing about this new template is that you can click on a picture to expand it and view its original size etc etc and scroll through the other pictures like that too. I think it makes life a little easier so do try it. 





































































 
 Sorry for any repeats, I love New York. I have come to the conclusion that I could edit pictures for a living. It's my favourite pasttime. Now offering my services.

Song to listen to while viewing this post: 7 Years Lukas Graham.










Everything I do, I do it for you.

Everything I do, I do it for you.
If I could find a way, to see this straight, I'd run away, to some fortune that I should have found by now. I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down.
-Cough Syrup, Young the Giants.