DADDY’S GIRL❤

She was recently done with her matriculation and was now preparing for the entry tests (as her father always wished for her to be a doctor), when the clock struck 7 and she stared at the outer gate as if she awaited someone’s arrival.

She was the one whose life revolved around her family, more specifically her father. In a word’s description, it was perfect to call her the ‘Daddy’s Girl’.
Her father had always been her heart favourite and ideal personality. She believed non other could be as perfect as him and why not, he was not just her first love but her hero.
This little girl never needed a friend as she had it in her father. Her father in return loved her the most. He believed she was his lucky charm. They together conspired to tease her mother. During games like ludo, she always paired up with her father. Her father always told her stories before she went to bed. It is true that a daughter never grows up for a father. She is always as little and as fragile as the day first. At nights when the clock struck 7 she used to wait for her father to come and phone him whenever he was late. On weekends, both of them acted as the master chef and make breakfast for her mother before she got up. He often brought her surprise gifts and her favourite chocolates. They too sat together for hours telling each other different jokes, viewing old photo albums when she was little.
Her images sitting on her father’s back with him, being her pony (little horse owned by every princess) and the image where she wore her father’s shirt, almost covering up her ankles, holding up his shaving razors, his big glasses that covered up all her face and his office shoes, the left one in the right foot. The image when he held his girl in his arms for the very first time, smiling at the little angel.
She could not resist and rushed to her room, locking it up from inside. All these memories broke her again. Without switching on the light she hid her face in the pillow and wept for hours. That new year showed her how brutal the life was.
The pain was unbearable. She felt as if she would soon get mentally sick. She often cursed the decision of Allah claiming, what good could it bring, snatching a father from his daughter. She was once really afraid of the dark but no more. Perhaps she was all grown up in a week’s time. Now she loved the loneliness. The most talkative girl was beautifully silenced without any apparent scar on her body but this was her heart that was shattered. She used to sit under the night sky looking at it accusingly as if it was responsible for the loss she suffered.
Time seemed to stop. Every passing moment reminded her of her father. That vehicle he drove, stood in the garage as it is, those shirts he wore to office were still hung ironed, his books, his cell phone and even his tooth brush were all there just not him. She hated it when her very close relatives treated her sympathetically telling her she was miserable. Her soul screamed when she was considered an orphan. She felt heart broken when she heard her friends talking about their fathers. She often questioned herself that why was it her fate to lead a life without her father. Nothing was enough to please her the way it did earlier. Things were the same and so were the events but the absence of her father dulled all that shine.
She always wished to have her father back at every cost even if she had to give her all in return. And then like all other nights, with these things in mind, another night passed with sleep less, dried up eyes that had no more power to shed tears.
But in her smile hid all her desires and dreams
And hid in itself those scars and screams
She wanted to sit and moan
As her father had forever gone
She wished to hold him for once
And tell him, she was all alone
Just come back to me, Oh father !
Cause your daughter can not live at her own.❤❤

 

Destruction Within The Soul❤

She shows that she doesn’t care, but how is it possible? How can she not care? When you know that it’s all she ever wanted. She chooses to be rude and show that she is the deciever, but if you look into her eyes, you’ll see destruction. THE DESTRUCTION within her soul, a hurricane breaking her into bits. Deep inside her subconcious, there’s a storm brewing yet she doesn’t let it escape a wreak havoc. She opts for silence so that the society remains satisfied. She may seem normal and content but there is a hurricane in there. That storm need breaking out before she self combusts. So the question is that where should it go if not out, though keeping it in is still too dangerous.

Tragically Beautiful❤

 

Everybody has a breaking point! The difference is that some people show it, while others don’t

In my opinion, the ones who show it are lucky! Because for the ones who dont show, people are already standing on their breaking point, and are still in search of it! Totally unaware that they broke them!

The strong people will never tell that IT HURTS! They’ll just pass a sarcastic smile, bury the tears and show the world that they don’t give a fuck!

And they get the title of EMOTIONLESS! HEARTLESS! INSENSITIVE blah blah!

But there exists another world inside them. Behind the doors, during the nights, when they are alone; they cry; break down! Those soft sobs that no one will ever hear.

They can’t share it even if they want to. They won’t trouble you with their problems, but would love to take your burden on their shoulders!

There exists a vast but very delicate world inside them…

Never try to open that gate! Or cross the fence.. ‘Cause either you’ll madly fall in love with them, or they’ll start to hate themselves!