Prayers For 2012

Dear Granter of Prayers


1. Please let my best friend get into college. And by that i do not mean LUMS. I mean Dartmouth. Or Cornell. Okay, Princeton also. :$

2. Aga Khan University. I promise to always be hapy there.

3. Please help me love physics so I study it more often.

4. Show me the light in mathematics.

5. Please let ama get out of bed, and maybe cook something or read White Oleander.

6. I would like some best friends. Who are girls. But not lesbians.

7. Let me be lovable/loved again.

8.Help my self confidence.

9. A recipe for perfect fried chicken is also necessary.

10. ETERNAL RICHES.


Do you have any prayers? I'll ask for them too, double power.

How Bad Can It Be Without You?

Honestly, I don't even understand how someone can live inside their head and not even know it sometimes.

I'm not going to think in maybes anymore, and I am not going to talk about coming back. You had a chance, a stupid, two letter word would have sufficed but you let your stupid ego stand in the way.

And no, don't you say that you know what I'm doing, or how my moods are. You don't know a thing. I woke up with the smell of sweet dreams still lingering and broken heart mending, not bitter angry thoughts.

Don't you know I've given up being mad at you? You don't get mad at people who don't care. That's stupid.

Don't you know I keep you happy?

Ofcourse you don't. You don't know a thing.

Where's The Love, Actually?

To me, you are perfect - And my wasted heart will love you forever.

(:

'Your plate's getting so full, so fast you should watch what falls off the edge'

TALK TO ME.

I want to TALK to you. You can only see as far as your nose. And most times that's about the extent of my vision too. But it hit me, quite suddenly. You simply don't want to TALK to me. What sort of friendship is that? Suddenly, you think I don't want to come over. that made my heart sink. And made me not want to even think of you. But I called back. because nobody deserves to not get a call back. And that includes me.

Smile, Pretty Girl. (Number 6)

I do not understand maths but you do. I do not understand maths, but for you my curves will be cosine, so you may read them better.

And these days I eat, and I eat so that my clothes may hug me tighter, so there is a safe distance between the world and my heart.

I do not understand restraint, but I do understand need. I embrace the insanity that comes with wanting to be loved by you. You only understand 'yes, i will' and 'no, no you go on ahead to sleep, you work so hard.'

I told you I've taught my hands to do things, braid hair, and knot rugs, and make cross stiches across cloth in the shape of a teapot. I've also taught them how to cut across skin, innocuous enough to look like an accident, and deep enough to still hurt. I've taught them how to rub sleep, and happiness, out of my eyes. Oh yes, I did apologize for shining, I apologized for being, and I apologized for hurting. I turned somersaults in fear, and I begged for you to watch me. Girls plead for attention, and you're a stingy man. You're a stingy man.

It took me a few days to grow up but I have. So from the first time I loved, I learned to be wary of crazy people, I learned to shrug off small rejections for the bigger picture. From the second time I obsessed, I learned to always know that 'good enough' is every boy's favorite adjective, and there is a time to let go, do it as soon as you start crying every night. From the third I learned self worth and ambition, I learned hidden beauty, and how to make my own fun. I also learned abandonment and disgrace, and bloody lips, and the betrayal of your ow heart.

Number 4. Or 5.

"...you can only fit so many words on a postcard, so many in a phone call, so many in space before you forget that words are used for filling something other than emptiness. It is hard to build a body out of words. I have tried, we have both tried. Instead of holding your head to my chest, I tell you of the boy who lives downstairs from me, who stays up all night long practicing his drum set...he keeps on thumping through the night convinced, I think, that practice makes perfect. Instead of holding my hand you told me of the sandwich you made today..."

Sarah Kay

I'm ready for you to come home. I promise I'm stronger now and I learned not to mind awkward silences so much. I'm ready for you to come home, because I have so many stories to tell but nobody who could possibly understand all of them. I'm ready for you to come home and unglue my fingers from the safety bar and help them latch on to something more giving, if less stable. I'm ready for you to come home, and I'll wash all your bruises with peroxide. It stings and burns but that means it's healing. I want you home now, because I'm finally complete all on my own and I want you to see how wonderful it's made me. I know how to braid hair faster than I did, and that's a sign that I'm ready to do anything, every girl knows that braiding hair is one of the most useful things our fingers can learn. I'm tired of typing 2017 every second of every day, even though my fingers ache to trace out your name 2 5 4 2 5 4. There is no room for anymore heartache in the world.