Previously known as Querencia.
Poets, as often as they say, they said the truth. Love cannot be controlled or planned. It comes like rain on a sunny day; an unseasoned downpour. Like a gust of harsh wind on a heated day. It comes with a painful epi...
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صرف ایک بار آؤ میرے دل میں اپنی محبت دیکھنے پھر لوٹنے کا ارادہ ہم تم پے چھوڑ دیں گے۔
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Nightmares, night terrors, bad dreams, worst dreams, and screaming Meemies are all the words to describe a dream that shakes you up violently. That terrorizes your entire being and leaves you scattered in pieces, pieces you never wished were scattered. The pieces were what she held to herself, yet she was forced to give them away, so far away. A little girl, not big enough then Twelve scared out of her wits, shivering in her bed. Hiding away in the little blanket she always thought would keep her safe and protected from the monsters that at dark surrounds her room. Or rather her. The nightmares have always done that to the girl, who every time saw one would not go back to sleep, no matter what happens. She was sweet, full of bright color that would light up anyone's world, she was sweet, full of happiness that would rip someone's sadness away, she was just so sweet that no one ever thought something would keep her up at night and would make her want to crawl her way somewhere safe. Whereas other kids would hide in their mother's arm and sleep as nothing happened she did not do that, she stayed where she was and cried and stayed still and let the night wash away. No one ever thought that the sweet girl had fears just like everyone else, the little sweet girl had sadness rotting her insides but never did she ever let that diminish her light and the happiness that would surround her, happiness with nothing happy inside, but no one knew that. No one knew that because no one took notice of the girl suffering in the confines of her room, sometimes when she's scared she would sit on the concrete in a corner of her room with her knees pressed to her chest and her head bent over them, and she would think and think and think about the frightening dream and would cry and cry and cry but everyone never knew what happened behind those doors of her room. None knew the girl filled with all bright colors was rotting and screaming for something safe, only for it to be silent and for it to be muffled because she was afraid her sadness would cost so much, afraid that being sad and showing that sadness would be expensive and not in the sense of money or something but I'm the sense that her sadness would just make everything a bit darker, darker than usual and now she did not want that.
The little girl grew up with her fears and sadness all in herself, her rotting insides in herself, never showing just how broken she is, the little girl grew up. Now the little girl is married and her sadness has finally come out, hurling the rotting mess of her insides that little girl is finally less broken, less sad, less rotten, and less dark. The little girl grew up. And the little girl is Syra Noor Waleed Hussain or rather Syra Noor Shahmeer Jahangir.
The girl whose nightmare had stopped when she reached the age of eighteen, the girl who was finally at peace somewhere in her heart was once again left to deal with the nightmares and it's been a month and a half, and they still remain there, every time she went to bed, they stayed there. Watching her sleep watching her mumbling incoherent words, watching her wake up with a jolt and watching her shivering and crying and not being able to scream, and the nightmares would smile in victory as if they accomplished a great deal by making her feel this way. They would smile triumphantly as if they have achieved a big goal of their unholy existence. They would just watch her consoling her little self as the night goes on.
