biismuh

[biismuh]

December, you’ve been a late-night drive through Karachi’s empty streets, where the sea breeze carries stories of what could’ve been. Gentle yet unrelenting, you carried the weight of everything I wanted to forget. Endings I didn’t ask for and beginnings I don’t fully understand. A Malang fakir of months, asking me to let go of the things I’ve held onto so tightly, the laughter that echoes in the empty rooms, the faces that become shadows in the haze of time. You were slow, crisp, and quiet, urging me to wrap myself in layers until I felt safe again. The soft closing credits, the part where the music swells, and I finally exhale.

2024, what a film you have been. Disjointed, abstract, and brutally honest. A mosaic of contradictions. Lessons learned in chaos, emotions disguised as clarity and loss, reminding me that life is not always the grand narrative I imagine. You were a biryani without aloo, disappointing yet consumed because I had no choice. You whispered truths I wasn’t ready to hear; people leave even when they promise to stay, hearts drift even when they are anchored by shared moments, and dreams break much like an ammi’s favorite dinner set, reminding me it’s okay to let go of your favorites. A total paradox. Series of missed calls, backspaced texts, unspoken words, and chai cups left half empty.

Ammi would say life is about balance, about taking the loss of her broken dinner set in stride because “aakhir dunya bhi tou faani hai.” But what Ammi doesn’t tell you is how it feels to see your favorite mug shattered, how it leaves a hollow space on the kitchen shelf, like the ones in your chest. 2024, you’ve been a montage of Karachi rains; romantic in theory, inconvenient in reality. Promises soaked through hopes carried away by the floodwaters, and a strange quiet that lingers after the chaos subsides. A year where every laugh felt borrowed, every tear felt rehearsed, and every goodbye felt heavier than the last.

You reminded me that not every story gets closure, not every bond survives the weight of time, and not every face that feels like home is meant to stay. But in your harshness, you also left me with a bittersweet clarity: that endings are a gift, a way to begin anew. Here’s to you, 2024; my reluctant mentor, flawed guide, a chaotic masterpiece.

[biismuh]

It’s July somehow and I still haven’t asked you for coffee.

[biismuh]

No literally standing under a hot shower being covered every inch in hot water nothing else matters

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you’re in his dms i’m in his backyard jumping on his trampoline he’s not even home do you want to come over

[biismuh]

tumblr, pinterest and spotify are the three pillars holding me together right now

[biismuh]

“old friends” is an underrated relationship dynamic because it’s such an innocent boring sounding term for what is usually some of the wildest shit imaginable. it’s always like ‘oh yeah we go way back, we have history’ and then you find out that history includes sex, drugs, murder, divorce, war crimes and The Incident

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[biismuh]

who needs a boyfriend when you can just open a book and pretend that you’re the main character dating the sexy fictional man who’d do anything for you

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*something extremely predictable happens* i predicted this.

[biismuh]

true love is “i came to kill you but fell in love with you instead”

[biismuh]

fingers are weird??? like…… our arms just split into other smaller arms…………. ok

[biismuh]

i expect ill be able to solve a lot of my problems once my baby brain falls out & my adult brain grows in

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obsessed with these notes my mom found yesterday from when my parents first moved in together. i laughed at the fact that my dad never filled out the grocery list…some things dont change

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boy: *takes more than 3 minutes to text back*

me: *opens quote post* “A man has always wanted to lay me down, but he never wanted to pick me up.” -Eartha Kitt

[biismuh]

“treat others how you want to be treated”

uh i can’t give everyone i meet a million dollars and a private yacht

[biismuh]

[biismuh]

Hands tell a story.