It's LeviOsa

I think I'm jinxed. I really do. Being idle and happy is one thing, being idle and sad is pathetic.
He says, she says. It's the hormones. It's always the hormones. Stupid imbalance that tips everything and sets me off. And the tummy cramps. The back aches. The mood swings. The unsightly pimples. It's tough. And no, we don't have it easy.
I want to talk to you. Hear your voice, that little snigger of yours. Your smile over the phone. Saturday, Saturday; make my day.
I want to run around in circles until I fall to the floor. Don't pick me up, don't bother. Just let me lie there. I don't know. I just don't. If you want to, I can save you. But who's going to come to my rescue?

Oh-to-the-snap!

Hey there. So it's been exactly a fortnight since I have touched my laptop. You used to be my favourite gadget in the room. And along came the Blackberry.
Yeah. Ouch. Sorry.
In any case, that's not the reason why I've been shamelessly neglecting you. I guess the real reason is that these past two weeks have been blissfully kind to me. Truthfully, I think this is by far the longest I've gone without a screw up. Phone calls on weekends, occasional texting, even the bitch issue resolved! Savouring every moment, like having mint-chocolate chip ice cream on a particularly hot afternoon. You see, it's not rocket science. Ramadhan is like Christmas, except that your wishes come true in a blink of an eye for a full month. No doubt I get hungry everyday from 12-3 p.m. and I have all kinds of cravings and I don't get to eat. But that's not the point. The point is, whatever other stuff on my list is ticked off real fast. Blink. Done. Dusted. Wow.
So for fourteen days, I haven't been walking around like a zombie and being jumpy about irrelevant things. Thank you for putting my mind at ease, dear Lord. And I realise I don't thank You enough. Heck, even I don't even approve of me. Sigh. Not good.
Oh. Hello, you. You know I'm here. You even admitted to it. So why don't you tell me what's really bugging you? You miss your Dad. I see that. I hear it in your voice everytime you lie to me about being okay. Quit playing the soldier in my eyes. I know you're dying inside. Your weight loss just magnifies everything to a hundred-fold. And stop calling yourself an orphan. Everytime she says that word to me, my tears well up and my heart feels like it's being stabbed with a serrated blade. Don't say that, baby. Never say it.
I know we're in a good place right now. And yes, I know for a fact that you want me to stay and you acknowledge the significance of my presence in your life. And thank you for being virtually demonstrative of it. But I ask you, would it literally break your fingers if you texted me now and again? It's free, for God's sake! Yeah sure, all those little statuses and smilies are meant for me. But can't you write to me privately sometime? Is that too much to ask for? Urgh. I'm whining, aren't I? Being ungrateful again. You're growing up. You don't know how grateful that makes me feel.
The new library is uber cool, by the way. You know what would make it cooler? You in it. I can just imagine the smirk on your face right about now. Anyway, the book I picked up is called Sexuality in Islam. Quite an interesting read. Apparently, in heaven we won't have asses anymore since the purpose of it is just for excreting waste. It's got me thinking, what if the likes of Kim Kardashian, Jennifer Lopez and Cristiano Ronaldo decided to embrace Islam? Poor things. Tsk tsk. And another shocker was the kind of rain that comes down in heaven. Everyone I asked managed to get this wrong. Fact is: it rains semen in heaven. Semen, yaw! Like those stains that glow under the fancy torchlights in CSI. I know, it was an epic WTF moment for me too. Good times. Roflol.

You think missing me is hard?

You should try missing you.



Go. To. Hell.

Stop being a pussy. Make your decision. It's fairly simple.
And you, bitch. Do you know how much I just loathe you? Indescribable. Beyond words. I tried being civilized but who am I kidding? Just seeing your name on the screen makes me infuriated. When he was all fraternizing with you, you gave him the cold shoulder. Ignored him into oblivion. But when he got a cool new phone, you cooed at his heels. Materialistic much? I don't think so, I know so.  Now that the guy you've been chasing is off the market, you crawl back to the one person who hasn't seen you for who you are, liking his posts and commenting on almost every single one of them. Pathetic. Really. Harsh, I'm all too aware.

I know this hurts, it was meant to.

My patience is running thin. Lord, help me.

yesnomaybe

Here we go again. The holy month is upon us and it means that you are impossible, like literally, impossible.

Lets take stock of the situation so far:
1) from my previous observations, fasting makes you bitchy and slightly lethargic
2) you sleep earlier and that means no phone calls that result in stroke inducing bills
3) you don't play football in the evenings, so that avenue is closed
4) you practically live in the mosque now so I can't just ring you whenever I want
Oh yeah, and most epic of all:
5) your bloody Blackberry is BUSTED. FML

I'm missing you endlessly. Kill me now, why don't you?

The Fourth Day of August

The anticipation, the nervous laughs, the tired eyes, the impromptu confession.

He pokes his head though the doors of the library, puppy-faced.
"So? How?"
"Yes," she says in reply.
Oh God, I feel like crying.