voices in my head

I have always been a summer person. I have always loved wearing just boxers on an April evening, a book in my hand, a pencil between my ears, pretending to be Elio from Call me by your name. I have always loved to be the one to collect newspapers from outside the gate, and the sun is already up there. I have always loved how my room fills with light even if I close the curtains, to dance myself off. I have always loved coming home after playing or going out, and then opening the refrigerator to find the water bottles my Mother kept there.  She’s not here now. Nobody’s here now. I still yearn for the summers I spent at home as I wake myself up on another cold, chilly December morning. As I pluck out weeds from the plant pots. I let some of them live a day or two, I’m kind like that. Chuckles .  But, Rahel, this one is not about cold chilly December mornings or my mother’s water bottles.  It’s about my bus ride back from work. How the view through the side glass slowly changes from green

Mondays. On Mondays, I do not experience Monday blues like every other adult. There really isn’t much difference in my life whatever the day is.  Mondays. On Mondays, the neighbour kid wears a white shirt and blue pants, with black shoes. He pets his dog one last time before getting onto the scooter with his dad. The mother waves and sends them off. There are no cows on the road. The veg restaurant remains moderately busy. The highway underpass seems darker than usual. There’s this guy who passes by me every day infant of the police station. Every day he wears a yellow shirt with the “Bingo’ logo on it and a badge. Does he work at the factory where they make Bingos?  On Tuesdays people slowly get settled into reality. I’m still floating. I wear light green to look fresh and bright. I plug in my earphones while walking to the bus stop. Women wearing green and yellow night dresses wait outside the dairy farm to collect milk. A recently married couple comes back after their morning walk.

  Zindagi Migzara I read this phrase in one of Khalid Hossein's books, but I don't remember which one. I think it was 'Thousand Splendid Suns'. It means life goes on. Towards the end of my college years, like most people I was getting sad about leaving the place, people, and memories. But I told myself that the idea was to not give in to nostalgia and to keep moving. Don't look back. I only write when I'm sad or when I have anxiety attacks or something. I haven't written anything over here for the past few months because, to be honest, life has been pretty good the past few months. I would be happy to say that my life peaked from October 2021 to July 2022. 3 months have passed by since college, I was sitting at home waiting for the call from the IT company, and out of nowhere, I got this core job at a good company and I was posted at the outskirts of this city.  I have always wished to move into a city where no one knew me and start fresh. Like just throw my