From the archives titled: When I used to still wonder.

Anger and depression make for a strange mix of emotions.

The reasons for them though lost somewhere within my mind’s ability to comprehend, are pretty straight forward. I miss her. I want her. She’s here, or was here but not for me. How long before I come to terms with it? Dunno. Or maybe I have because I’m sitting here and writing with sad loud music playing instead of prowling the streets looking for a glimpse of her.

But maybe that’s just cuz I’m lazy.

I’d rather drink tea and smoke cigarettes and sing along to Nusrat then get off my ass and prowl the streets for a glimpse of her. But keeping me from doing that is something more than laziness, there’s fear involved. The fear of not seeing her and feeling like a fool for acting like a fool. And also the fear of finding her and watching the smile on her face for someone else turn into a frown for me. I wish to see love in her eyes, I wish to see her falter at my sight but I know that wishes don’t come true. I know I will earn no smiles, an oh shit, maybe but no smiles.

I’d rather be lazy than shit.

So I stay and sing tera bina at the top of my lungs, louder than Nusrat through 12 inch woofers. Loud enough for god to hear, maybe. Maybe loud enough for her. But in this loudness I lose the voice of my own damn soul that’s asking me to shut the fuck up.