fivehundredtwentyfivethousandsixhundredminutes

i want to stop all the drunk drivers. i want to take away their licenses and cars. i want them all to gain some sense and know not to drive when they're drunk. i want them to be the ones who get hurt when they get into an accident. i want people to know and hate drunk drivers.

but none of that's going to make a difference. because it's already too late.

Denmark

The hugs. More frequent and longer.

The kisses. Many but fleeting.

Everyone seems a bit on edge.

Death, or rather, the anticipation of death, makes us look at things from different angles.

Abandonment. Loss. Pain.

Petty life matters seem overly trivial.

Every touch is new yet seems like the last.

But appreciation is still hard to see. Still hidden. Still afraid.

We know we can't keep running. Yet we never give in. Never surrender. Never stop trying to escape it's strong choke-hold.

I'm afraid.

i love college.

staying up until 5:30am every night.


keeping the air mattress always inflated under yuxdi's bed. ready for use.


discovering people exactly like you.


having 24 hour availability to ice scream.


bitching about people smelling bad and talking too much.



being able to go to our neighbors' apartment at anytime in the day. and the night.

smelling people.

planning for the years to come.


developing disgusting laughs.


holding random sleep overs because we don't have class early the next day.


discovering people having sex and then freaking out about it.

yelling at the guys' window accross from ours.

promising to go to the gym everyday but losing motivation after the first day.

yup. tis great.

well, that sums it up.

"To prove my point, you can instantly find out what kind of body image is “in” or “out” by simply reading a few popular magazines, which constantly bombard us with the messages that to be overweight is to be ugly and to bare one’s cleavage is the expected norm. What kind of freedom can there be for a woman when she cannot walk down the street without being constantly “checked out” and judged as desirable or not? How can those women be liberated and I am oppressed?

The hijab is not a political flag, nor am I an extremist. It’s a way of self-respect and modesty, an act of obedience towards God, and I am at peace within the core of my heart. I can rest, knowing that no one is looking at me and making conjecture about my character from the length of my skirt or revealing bosom. It’s a barrier between me and those who would exploit me. I am a human being equal to any man, and I am not vulnerable because of my sexuality. Yes, I have a physical manifestation upon this Earth, but it is the vessel for my God—given intellect and strong spirit. I wear the hijab not because I have to, but because I want to, and nothing comes before God. "

-Zahida Mehirdel

At least when doctors make mistakes they can bury them.

Alhumdulillah.

I walked into my room to check myself in the mirror and closed the door. David came running after. And a split second before he barged in, I hear three voices yelling
NOOR! BOY!
NOOR, HE'S COMING!
DAVID! WAIT!
He was apparently too drunk to wait. So he opened the door and demanded to use my mirror before I could. But it was okay. I hadn't taken my scarf off yet.

"Well, yeah. We have to keep an eye out for you."

Aww. They love me:)

I'm so lucky.

There's no place like home

As much as I don't want to leave SD and the people there, I love the feeling when I turn on Orange Ave. The always familiar streets welcome me. And every week, the feeling of anticipation engulfs my stomach as I pull into the driveway. And every week, my mom's hug reminds me that regardless of where I live, this will always be my h o m e

It's called a hijab

It wasn't a sudden decision. I had been thinking about it seriously for the last 2 years. I wanted to do it but didn't think I was strong enough.

I had always had this weird strong admiration for girls who could wake up every morning and put on a scarf before they left their home. Girls who were self-confident enough and self-respecting enough to be able to wear a scarf because their religion demands it. Girls who understood that a majority of the American population doesn't understand why Muslim women wear hijabs. That most people would just think that it's another form of women oppression when actually it's the complete opposite. They knew that they could be judged and ridiculed and disapproved of, but didn't let that stop them. That's strength.

And up until this past summer, I had no where near that kind of strength.

People who ask me if it's hard or weird or if I get too hot in the sun or if I ever wish I didn't have to wear it, I have this too say. No. I don't feel weird, which I think is weird. I feel really comfortable and confident in it. Yes. It does get hot but nothing too unbearable. It's basically like wearing a tie. When you loosen a tie, you decrease your body temperature by 3 degrees but it's not like you were dying with the tie on. No. Not one day passes that I regret this decision. But yes. It's hard. I know I tell people it's not that bad or hard but that's not completely true. I had to get rid of more than half of my wardrobe. I can't just role out of bed and go outside. If I need to get something out of my car, I need to be covered. Going to the gym is an exciting adventure even without me having to wear long sleeves and a scarf. When I want to take pictures even just around the house, I've got to make sure my scarf is on.

Also. No. I do not wear it 24/7. All girls can see me without it on. No. That's not sexist. Yes. I'm going to wear it forever. No. I don't need to wear it in front of my brother and dad.

I honestly don't have any complaints or second thoughts. I feel great.

This feeling is hard to describe. It's like waking up knowing that I'm at least doing one thing right. Theoretically I can't know if wearing a scarf is the right decision, but theory doesn't really matter here. I know I'm right. I feel it. Everyday. I don't feel like it's an unnecessary hassle. I don't think that i would look so much better without it on. I'm still noor, just with more clothes on.

I want people to know that Muslims aren't these crazy violent oppressive boring people and that wearing a scarf didn't change who I am at all. Muslims are fun normal people.

I want to inspire people to know that it's okay to wear a scarf. It's okay to be proud of your religion. It's not that hard and people aren't that mean. If I can do it, why not anyone else.

But, oh, how I love the stares, the complete avoiding of eye contact, the sassy treatment, the prejudices and slow approachals, the blame for being proud of who I am, the generally nervous or confused looks. But honestly, its not as bad as I thought it would be. People at UCSD are great and funny and open.

I like who I am and what I do. Not many people can say that.

dear zach.



fuck you. i'm sorry that it frustrates you that you can't be fully comfortable in my apartment because you have to shield your eyes or wait for me to put on my scarf or close the door if you want to leave her room or come to the bathroom. oh. and i'm sorry that sanyieh takes so fucking long in the shower and prevents you from peeing in her bathroom, and when you storm off, telling us to make "whoever's in the bathroom hurry" we don't give a fuck. and i'm sorry that andrea doesn't want you to be her boyfriend but is stringing you along for the sex while keeping other potentials on the side. and i'm sorry that yuxdi threatened to punch you after you "accidently" hit her in the face and then asked if you had hit me. and i'm sorry that you can't see that you look unbelievably pathetic when andrea asks you not to come over and you do anyway. and i'm sorry that daniela sits in the bathroom for 20 extra minutes even though she knows that you have to use it. and i'm sorry that andrea's only keeping you because you bought her maroon 5 tickets. please. take the hint. and stay away.


sincerely,

no control.

i explained it all to her. last night. in our beds. in the dark. and i couldn't stop shaking. at 2 in the morning. i had forgotten how that felt.

but she's great. and i'm really lucky.

"you cry over the wrong things"

thanks.

I lie in bed, typing away on my phone

Whenever something bad happens on the news. The local jewelry store's been robbed or a man was found dead in Alabama. I automatically think, I hope a Muslim didn't do it. Not poor store or poor man's family. But. I hope he's not a Muslim. Do you hope that a bad psycho on the news is not Christian or Buddhist or Jewish or Hindu or atheist or gay or a woman or transexual? Possibly.
Do you know what it's like to want people not just to believe that you're a good person but that your family is good. Your community is good. Your nation is good. Your people are good?
Possibly.
Muslims live in more fear of being prosecuted than do most terrorist fearing, terrorist hating, Americans.
Possibly.
I'm tired of constantly reading about more Muslim hating people and what they have to say about us. I'm tired of trying to correct ignorant people who aren't willing to change. I'm tired of not having an effect on these people. I'm tired of being afraid.
The ground zero mosque isn't really at ground zero and isn't a triumphant trophy of our success there. That's disgusting. Palestine and Hamas aren't an evil crude bunch of terrorists that want all Israelis to die. They just want their country back. Pakistan doesn't deserve the sluggish help they've been receiving, or rather not receiving, from the UN for it's flood victims. They are humans after all.
Do you know what it's like to be hated by a majority of the American population?
Possibly.

Well, do you know how to deal with it?

Something.

I had the dream again.
I was mad at someone. Not quite sure who that someone is but I was furious and fed up at someone. Someone close. Someone that's made me mad like this before. I was yelling. Not quite sure what about but something to do with someone hurting me. I remember yelling at them to STOP IT. Stop what exactly, I'm not sure.
Then I half walked, half jogged away. Leaving you alone in the parking lot. Before you could say anything. I somehow made it into the breezeway and saw someone that I really didn't want to see. Someone that I either don't like or don't talk to often or have been avoiding. Someone who I definitely did not want to see me like this. Distraught. Upset. I don't know exactly who. He/she asked me if I was okay. But I didn't want to deal with them. They didn't really care so I walked away without answering.
I made it to grindley which was empty btw. And started to cross the street when I woke up.

Even my dreams are ambiguous.

I need you to trust me

There's a difference between lying and honestly forgetting something. But you know those moments when you say something that once was true but the second you say it you realize that it's now a lie. But it's not really your fault. Or at least, that's what you say to keep your conscious clear. Though, it's not like you try to clear up the misunderstanding that the lie causes. Let's have an example:
Mandy: why'd you write that?
Ralf: I don't even know anymore.
First of, Ralf sounds pretty dramatic. But anyway. The second those words leave his mouth, Ralf realizes that he wrote those hurtful words because he was mad that his older sister would pick her friends over hanging with him. But instead of explaining that, he just goes with the not remembering bit. After all, Ralf is getting old.

And then there's just bending the truth. But that has it's own category.

I've been doing my fair share of each recently.

i love the ocean. the beach, not so much. but i love the way the ocean merges with the sky at the horizon. i just got back from driving to san diego and for the first time ever, i think that ucsd was the right decision. the drive will be beautiful.

phonephonephonephonephone.

i'm not a bad person. i just feel like i could be doing other things. like cleaning my room. or watching tv. or rereading harrypotter. or eating. but i'm not. i'm not doing anything. and even then i won't call you. and i'm sorry. i just can't afford to keep getting in trouble.


eh. hell with it. pick up your phone.

pink.

i like that everyone's posting stuff today.
well, yesterday.
i don't sleep before 2 anymore.
but waking up late, i don't like.
we didn't have fireworks this year. even though i had it all planned out how we'd do them. i'd give everyone a cookie that i made from scratch and then start up the fireworks. that's a lie. i'd get ibrahim to start up the fire works. i am not getting that close to them.
but instead i opened the cookie box and the kids came running. and my cookies were gone in less than 5 minutes. they were good though. i stashed 3 for myself.
we played spoons. it was ironic. b/c we all were grabbing the spoons. but no one wanted the bigger one.
I'M A MIME.
listen to monster by lady gaga. and just remember. that all monsters do is eat organs.
oh and don't get pregnant and try to kill your baby by hitting it in lines at seaworld. old people behind you will not approve.
you momma's so ugly she made obama lose hope.
idk what i'm saying.
it's dark in my room.
the highlight of the day: i changed my bed sheets.
the highlight of my night: i killed your dog and i put it on the barbecue but these things just happen oh yes they just happen and after i put him on the barbecue i
my life is exciting.
i want to go shopping.
my butt's sore.
i really like the color yellow.

goodnight.

i love my brother.

"That's really cool that you're going to sd.
Yeahhh
And you're dorming?
Yup
What do you think about that Ibrahim?
Him: ahaha oh I'm happy.

I've spent so many essays, stories, laughs on him and he's happy I'm leaving? Being happy for me is one thing. But being happy that I'm dorming? Jerk.

I need him. He understands. He's shallow
Careless
Stupid
Annoying
Violent
Narsisistic
Funny
Beautiful.

I hate his mood swings. And that he doesn't trust me as much as I trust him. And that he takes my things. And that he gets more freedom than I do. And that he can never tell a full story properly. And that he has the power to hurt me in ways that no one else possibly could.

I take his insults more seriously. I trust his fashion sense. I listen to his jokes and laugh. I ask for his opinions. I interrupt his pointless stories.

People have asked us if we were twins before and I've always said no while giving them weird looks. But I see what they saw now. Ibrahim and I are twins.

So when he told Ahmed that he was happy that I was moving out, I could've ignored it. But this wasn't the first time he's said this. Here I'm thinking that I'm gonna miss him too much. And he's happy that I'm leaving. Happy that he won't have someone prying into his life. Happy that he won't have someone constantly trying to protect him. He needs time to miss me. Time to appreciate me.

But he does. I know it. He has to.

It's weird that he can make me smile by simply pinching my hand. But I love him. More than you could possibly understand.

i try to sleep

People say it's bad to go to sleep mad. Well people has obviously not met me. People should say that it's hard to go to sleep mad.

I've been in my bed for the past 2 hours. Just trying to go to sleep. It's only 10:50. But I so desperately want to go to sleep.

People also say that dreams are where one can do what they wish they could do in real life. It's where one can have what they wish they could have in real life. I used to think that I don't dream because I already got it all. And that's not conceited or boastful. I really did have it all for most of my life. But now, I don't know why I don't dream.

I realized a while ago that I didn't want to blog anymore. I've been blaming it on the fact that I have nothing to say, but that's not fully true I guess. I don't want to try to be witty or insightful or cool. I'm not going to tell you about my day because I don't want to write it all out and because why would you care? But I'm also tired of my blog being an angsty place. It doesn't depict me. And so I thought that I should stop. But clearly, I'm not going to. I want it. I just don't know with what to fill it with.

I stunned my thumb against my car so my typing on my phone has slowed down.

My parents have given up on me. And my dad doesn't have an opinion on what I do. Well, afterall I am just a stupid girl.

I think that the reason I liked Gilmore Girls so much besides the teenage life based attraction was because I loved the kind of relationship Lorieli and Rory had. It was like me and my mom. Hah. Well, look how far I've come.

I don't want this. I never have. But this is what it has become.

This is my last summer.

www.abbasummer2010.tumblr.com

family portrait.

i want people to believe my family's perfect. too bad there's no such thing as perfect. but regardless of days like this, we're pretty damn close.

restart.

new.

hurt.

she's right.

miss less. much less.

wish i could tell you.

not going to do it.

don't want to do it.

cut it short.

cut it shorter.

ignorant bitches.

i'm ready.

even though, i wish i weren't.

there's no such thing as a clean slate.

:]

you.

if you stare at something long enough it starts to shrink. and then the lines blur and it's just this mass of colors. your eyes dry up and attempt to water. everything else moves in slow motion. you can see your chest rise and fall with every breath. you stop thinking. but only for a moment.

before it starts up again.

i don't understand. and now i just feel stupid.

Well here it is. My goodbye.

Allen Tran, UCIrvine; Candace Frazier: Simmons; Jessica Ayunani: Cerritoes; Joanne Yuan: Cal State Long Beach; Judy Park: Harvard; Kristen Bang: Emory; Mathangi Suresh: UCBerkeley; Michael Pham: UCBerkeley; Prema Rahman: Boston U; Sherrae Adams: Cal State Long Beach; and me: UCSan Diego.
Impressive, huh? Yup, these are our graduating Speech and Debate seniors. But getting here wasn’t easy. We’ve all had 24 hour days peppered with 2 hour naps, low test scores followed by high ones, or in some cases, even lower ones [COMP SCI], study sessions that waste at least 60% of the time but the 40% that is spent studying is all we needed anyway. But whatever’s been going on at school, Speech and Debate has pretty much always remained a constant. Practice every week, and a tournament at least once a month. Now, for you non-speech and debaters this might seem like all fun and games but trust me, it’s not. We all have spent too many hours on our Speech and Debate work. We’ve researched news articles, searched for scripts, and constructed boards through the middle of the night just so that we have a chance at competing at the level we’re expected to compete at. Oh and don’t get me wrong, Oxford’s team is the best. We may not be the most “united” in the way we dress [fullerton], or have debaters that appeal to all lay judges [northwood], but we do have the nicest [steffi], most innocent [Sophia], wildest [Ibrahim], loudest [prema hitting Katie with book], shortest [evan], and hottest [jessica, sherrae, me] team members OR SHOULD I SAY NINJAS [SHAINA]. And not to mention, the best coaches. But really we rock [rock].
Oh, and if you’re wondering about the boards, I figured that since I went to state three years with expository speeches, it would be my best bet for making this speech. Hence the random, yet effective, posters.
So first, we'll sign up for a lesson on our memories, next compete for the impacts the team has made on our lives, and finally win and collect our rewards.
Speech and Debate has always been a high priority. Though some always thought that it was too high of a priority, I’m glad I kept it up there. And I’m proud to say that I’m not alone in my priority order. Before our Sonora Tournament, our LD’ers [FLIP] were all up until 4 am on AIM arguing but working on our cases. We were all so delusional ,and everything, including jury nullifications, was funny. After all that, you would think that we’d have learned our lesson, but when State Quals came around, we were doing the same thing, except this time, it was not all online. We were are piled in my family room. But just because we weren’t at home, did not mean that we couldn’t stay up late. Almost everyone left around midnight but Prema and Kristen decided that they never wanted to leave. We all stayed up in my family room and they ended up having to sleepover. So we all finished our cases and studied for our gov test and then slept for 2 hours. Regardless of the few hours of sleep, that was one of my favorite speech and debate related nights that I’ll never forget.
I’ll never forget searching for donuts, cookies, cupcakes, and red velvets, people thinking Ibrahim and I are twins[FLIP], playing big booty and blocking other people, daring each other to do embarrassing and slightly inappropriate things[FLIP], Levin Luong beating Justin Pierce in an LD round, Mr. Marijuana sleeping in the hallway, our boys putting on make-up to look better, like some “united” clothing team, Daniel drinking the tea and Tiffany loving the sugar, Sherrae and I discovering dead bodies in college basements, and running through the rain in our heels.
I’ll never forget Steve pushing people under the bus, Ciera’s driving, AJ’s rants, Kathy bringing us taco bell, and Nancy’s southern drawl.
I put all of my events into perspective based off of Speech and Debate events. My math project is due the day of the Official Banquet, Prom’s the weekend after the Unofficial Banquet. Sherrae jokingly said that I’m not going to know when anything is after I graduate. That’s when I realized how pathetic I was.
Speech and Debate has been a huge part of my life and though I have sacrificed countless things to compete and do well at Speech and Debate, I don’t regret it.
I've learned how to speak coherently, think logically, eat quickly, argue aggressively, make weird noises, and love strangers.
I feel like I owe a series of thank yous.
Thank you AJ and Ciera for coaching all of us even when we clearly did not practice over the week or research articles. Thank you Kathy for deciding to coach the team; we all love you. Thank you Nancy for not getting fed up with us and spending your free time with us and loving us.
But mostly thank you mom [and dad]. [Mom,] I know I say that you like to put me down for your own weird enjoyment, but you’ve always given me the encouragement I needed. You’ve never said no to driving me to tournaments and practices, judging and working at Bingo when I’ve asked you to, or complained about never letting you see my pieces. But your support doesn’t stop at just Speech and Debate and I want to thank you for everything. I love you. [And to my dad. You really are the best person I know. Thank you for not saying no when I ask you to bring home checks with ridiculously high amounts of money as frequently as I ask you to. You are patient, kind, and honest. I love you.]
As for you all. Thank you for joining Speech and Debate, for practicing, competing, laughing, meeting Charlie (the jelly fish), throwing Ronald's phone everywhere, singing Korean songs, dealing with my email-frenzied phases, and taking a bajillion pictures. I can confidently say that this year, our team really did seem like a family. I love you all. And I’m going to miss you, way too much.

I like songs.

The kind that you hum without even knowing what it is or why you're humming it.

The kind that you've always known.

i hate you.

i'm not strong enough to make myself that weak.

25 more days.

i'm tired of the guilt.

i'm not doing anything wrong.

i feel the blame.
you don't say it

but you mean it.

stop.
stop.
it'll end.


fuck you.

for me. it happens all the time.

it's a quarter after one, i'm a little drunk and i need you now. and i don't know how i could do without. i just need you now.

we need a song.

time falls away

i found my golf ring. i didn't think a time would come when i would miss golf season. and all the screaming complaining asian girls.


All of my regret
Will wash away somehow
But I cannot forget
The way I feel right now.

need to be stronger.

What do people talk about when they don't go to the same school or know the same people?
their families. their problems. their childhood.

What do people talk about when they don't go to the same school or know the same people?
memories. old friends. good times.

What do people talk about when they don't go to the same school or know the same people?
common interests. shopping. gossip.

What do people talk about when they don't go to the same school or know the same people?
the weather. their pets. their clothes.

What do people talk about when they don't go to the same school or know the same people?
they don't.

i'm afraid.

uci is prettier. But can I really base my whole college decision on what school is prettiest? Well, I am going to be living there for 4 years, I don't want to be looking at dead grass those years. But that's not why I'm going to college. The academics are better at UCSD and I would be missing out on opportunities if I didn't go there, as Prema likes to remind me every time I see her. College should be about more than just the way it looks. BTW I lied. I'm just afraid of being alone.

"what are we going to tell people the reason is that you're dorming at UCI? if you want to dorm so bad, might as well go to UCSD"


I like the anteater. I like the buildings. I like the food. I like the atmosphere.

I think I'm going to UCSD.




This year is definitely not what we all expected.

SIR

Less than 2 months. And then it's all over.

Cinderella

I don't need you to find my glass slipper. I've been running perfectly fine without it.

we are speech and debate.

It's interesting watching salt water drops spread through my bed sheets. They start off in small spheres that fall and splash off little spheres around them as soon as they make contact. It looks as if they are moving; making room for themselves because they were just so concentrated in the confines of the drop. And them hitting the sheets frees them and their influence.

oh chariot, give me your strength.

you think i have problems
because that's what i do now
my stomach hurts
but i've gotten so used to being quiet
that i don't have any problems
it doesn't hurt
so quiet
to slow down as so it comes to a stop
it tingles
so i don't like to talk about it
i can't even if i wanted to
and twitches and jerks


i might not need to break this glass.

youtube.

I replay songs over and over again.

when really,
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
even though
when a heart breaks, no it don't break even
but
you won't have to look up at the sky. no no no no
so please don't
bottle it up
and tell me
what do you want from me.

The Start of the End

Today, the rest of the school got their registration cards for next year. It's pretty surreal. We're really doing it. Graduating. I'm glad. Everyone's tired. fuck.

I'm still secretly hoping that I will get a registration card.

Too Soon.

It's too soon. To be thinking of leaving. Of graduating. Of not debating. Of breaking bonds. Of partying. Of redecorating. Of missing people. Of rooming. Of Jumping.

of falling.

I'm afraid that if I take time to think about it all. to really think about it all. I will only psyche myself out.

So for now, it's way too soon.

"How does this goodbye thing work?"
It doesn't.

the forgotten

What if one day you were told that everything you believed to be true wasn't real, but just your imagination?

I saw the forgotten today. The government or some entity tried to break up the bond of a mother and child. "But some things can't be forgotten"

I hadn't been to store in so long. On the inside of big safe, my dad measured Ibrahim and I as we grew taller. [I haven't grown since 2006 btw-_-] But there was another line/name on the safe. "SHIRI AUNTIE. HAHAHA. SHE'S SO SHORT!" heh. I didn't realize how small she used to be. We still use her scarves to cover everything up after work. Oh, but now we have actual soap. Which I thought was really weird; she only used dish detergent, even to wash her hands.

How many lives does one life touch?

bottle it up.

There are girls across the nation that will eat this up.

I haven't been able to write a solid blog post in weeks.

Only gonna get what you give away.

kids.

What are you looking at?
YOU'RE EYEBROW'S TURNING GREEN!
No it's not!
Yeah it is!
No! The stitches are blue; that's what you're seeing.
Why'd you want to get blue stitches, you're a girl!
I didn't choose my stitches color! It's because I have dark hair and black stitches would've gotten lost in my eyebrows.
Which by the way are green.
NO THEY'RE NOT.
Yeah. I can see the green all on top of your eyebrows.
Diego, do you're work.

...

HEY NOOR. YOU'RE EYEBROW IS TURNING GREEN!
-_-


i actually really love working with them.

My pedestal

I see it all but I can't do anything
Leave her alone
Stop doing that
Give it a shot
Concentrate on the important things
Get more sleep
Talk to him
Spend more time with them
Don't Disappoint Me.
Eat. Sleep. Laugh. Live. Smile. Run. Love.
[I always start with eat]
I'm not ready.


Dramatic? Hell yes.

Fuck does really sum it all up.

i hate the word perfect.

charga

i hate that i can't rant to you anymore.

my life.

It's impossible to understand how absorbed I am in Speech and Debate. It's ridiculous how much I give up because of Speech and Debate. It's insane how many opportunities I've lost, how many weekends I've worked, how many nights I've stayed up for Speech and Debate. And yet, I still can't say anything bad about it.

Goodbye hosting Mr. Patriot.

My solution.

I just want to spray some windex on it.

Just because you fail at defending something well, is the other side correct?

All the right moves

All the right friends

Are you okay?

In all the right places

Ekh. I'm starting to like the rain. And the wind.

So yeah. We're going down.

Synthesis. Truth. I want you to be honest. Reality. Perceptions. Easy way out? Coping? Better?

They got

I wish I liked hot chocolate.

All the right moves

I'm on an island. And it's warm. I like it here.

And all the right faces

Five more minutes. I'll start in five minutes. That's all I need anyway. Haha. That's all we ever ask for.

So yeah. We're going down.

Skank?

Everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going.

The sky's crying. The sky's peeing. The sky's washing our cars. The sky's sweating. The sky's watering our plants. God.

Yeah, we're going down.

My lover.

I used to know you really well. But then I came to Oxford and we started seeing each other less. At first it wasn't too bad. I still saw you pretty regularly. And summer. Summer made up for it. But junior year hit and it got hard to see you. I stole away at every chance I got but even that was not enough. I saw you sporadically and rarely was it ever planned. I thought it would be fun, being this spontaneous, but it only made things worse. I needed a regular plan. If I went without you for a while, I'd get delusional and start rambling. You kept me sane. I was sorry. I thought that summer would make up for it but I was too busy. I didn't make time for you and I should have. Senior year came and it was supposed to be easier. But here I am, at 2:35 am, still without you. I don't think I could ever make up for our lost time together. I'll find a way to get back to you.













sleep is my lover.

I wanna know.

I met a psychic yesterday. Ibrahim and I were sitting at a table near the back. This guy came and sat with us, made small talk. Then this other, smaller guy came and sat next to Ibrahim. Ibrahim stiffened. I smiled. The little guy started eating then decided he wanted to introduce himself. He was really spazzy and would start mumbling at times. It just seemed like he was embarrassing himself since the other, bigger guy was obviously annoyed by him. He asked for our names and proceeded to tell us that he was a psychic and that he has angels on his shoulders that tell him things. My first thought: he's crazy. But then he asked me if Ibrahim was a little slow at school but assured me that he would be better in two years. I just laughed. Then I thought that he was just joking, most people like to make fun of the brother. He went on to say that I had a lot of friends and so did Ibrahim but Ibrahim's were more wild, and not necessarily in a good way. He said that Ibrahim doesn't know what career he wants to pursue but something in business. That I want to be a teacher. I denied it. I've convinced myself that I don't want to be a teacher, but he knew. He was confused. Then he looked at me and said that I want to help people? Yeah. He asked what I was majoring in; engineering; he gave me a weird, knowing look and said okayy. That bugged me. Then he said that I'm close to my mom and Ibrahim spends way too much time in the bathroom. At that point, my dad called me. He wanted water. I left Ibrahim alone with the psychic. When I got back, it was time for us to leave. We said our goodbyes and he wanted my mom to get his number so we could call him and talk to him if we wanted to. We left, thoroughly creeped out.

I don't know if this guy was real or not, but I do believe in psychics. The good ones and the bad ones.

It makes me shake.