Eradicate This Injustice

Artwork is NOT mine.

I have taken these from Sumayea Binte Sha... something, I don't exactly know what O.o I was told she's not the artist though. Whoever the artist is, you're awesome, man.
Anywho, I have hotlinked them from facebook for technical reasons.


Enjoy.

~Faty

It's morning and I'm drunk.

IT'S MORNING AND I'M DRUNK.

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Imagine you’re a tree. An apple tree. With a lot of love and care you bear your apples. Red, succulent apples, hanging indolently from your branches to be picked up. A tree bears apples for humans to consume. The apples themselves don’t make the tree’s nourishment; on the contrary, the tree saves up abundant energy from its own food reserves to make the apple. The apple is therefore a gift from the tree, from you, to your friend.

And what does a tree get in return for the apples it gifts without hesitation?

A fertile soil. Some water. Periodic cutting.

Love and care.

The same love and care the tree transferred through the apple to its friend, the human. A nourishment similar to what you give to your friend is only necessary to be returned to you.

Please imagine, imagine you are a tree. Imagine you bore red, succulent, beautiful apples. They are hanging peacefully from your protruding branches. Imagine that an eager hand reaches out to you, to your gift, the apple. You smile, in the way trees smile. You are exulted to share your love. You are ecstatic when you feel the slight pinch at the end of the stem when the apple, your child, is taken off you. You are, in a very simple way, so happy to see your friend savor your apple, that red, succulent apple that you bore with so much love and care.

Now, my dear friend, imagine what you would never imagine. That is, your friend walking away, after tossing the remnants of your gift to the ground. Call out to him – what is it? He can’t hear you? Of course he can’t. You’re a tree, you have no voice. All you can do is wait for him.

He comes back. You greet him joyously – he replies by taking another apple, another red, succulent apple.

He walks away.

Days pass. Actually, I believe you won’t even realize the amount of time passing. Every day becomes monotonous. He comes, he eats, he leaves. You are left with eroded soil, in a dry wasteland, your mane growing into one that is thick, brown, weak…

But you are still bearing apples. You have to. What other purpose might a tree have in this world?

You keep gifting him apples. He keeps walking away. And since you know no other way, it is what you will keep on doing.

But my dear friend, the time will come when you will have to stop. Your bark is darkening; it is of the color of a black, cold heart that knows no happiness. Your apples are drier that ever; its texture are becoming sandy, its redness turns into darkness like your sad, hazy heart.

The hand will stop reaching out to your children. They will instead hold a blade. Carve your body, they will. They will turn you into lumber, and bring you home. You might, for a moment, think that he is finally acknowledging you. You are jubilant for a very tiny moment, to imagine that he might keep you in his warm grasp.

However, my dear friend, I did not tell you to imagine such a thing.

The only thing left for you is the blazing, red fire he will throw you into. Red, iridescent flames will engulf you and turn you into nothing but coal. Coal as black as your empty, broken heart.

Now, stop imagining. You are not a tree – not really. Don’t incline to be one either.

Humans are humans for a very important reason.

They have a choice.

~Faty

Sum sum sum

So I haven't posted in ages. Why is that? Well there were my exams, then I was busy studying for my SATs which I'm gonna take this October.


Really, I've been busy.


I was planning to write a short piece of of writing... But I forgot what I wanted to write about. So you'll have to do with the following:


"The hand you stretch out to me,
Not for giving-
But for tearing the apples from my branches.
You ignore
The bark darkening;
The tree which you have killed, nourishes you."


So long, cuz that's all for now.


P.S. Depressed like hell. Will recuperate once I get the HELL OUT of here. FOR GOOD.

~Faty

I WANNA...

...Take videos with Faty!!!

Flip

Has anyone noticed how I keep saying "Okay, that was stupid like, in every video and every 5 minutes in life?


... Okay, that was stupid.

~Faty

Childhood Treasures, featuring Noman Shahidul

 "Childhood Treasures"

The 21st of November, 2002, was one of the most awaited days of my childhood. I remember reading about the numerous countdowns in my favorite magazine. My cousin Noman, my partner in crime at the time, would also reread the articles to make sure he got the date right. However, for some reasons I can't quite remember, we didn't talk so much that week... which was very curious, for we were as thick as thieves.

When Thursday came, I had almost forgotten about it. Actually I forgot whether I had forgotten about it... I think I did in fact notice the red mark on the calendar, but for some reason I was unable to attend the event for which I had been waiting since the downy days of summer. I remembered feeling terribly annoyed that day; but compared to the feeling I got to experience the next day, on November 22nd, it was nothing.

Friday signaled the end of the school-week. After school, instead of stopping at my apartment building, I ran to my father's shop. It was 5 'o clock, just in time for his shift. I met my father behind the counter and begged him to take me to the place where I missed the promo of November 21st. As most adults, he didn't take into much consideration the pleads of a 9-years-old child; he absentmindedly nodded and told me to go home before my private tutor came.

The lessons must have started at around 5.30 p.m., and although I would have usually paid attention to the teacher, my mind wandered off to the same place. I kept glancing anxiously at the clock; it was ticking alright, but it didn't seem like the sound was progressing in phase with the hands. It looked like time was passing by more slowly than the agonizingly loud tickings that echoed in the small room. At 7.30 p.m., I realized there was only half an hour left for me to hurry to the place where I had to go no matter what. My hands began to tremble, the beating of my heart increased, and I felt my eyes water - not as a result of my deep emotional need, rather as a physical reflex - and my voice quavered as I asked the teacher if it was possible for me to leave early. I don't know why she agreed; or maybe she disagreed to which I either protested or simply ran out of the room. I could do crazy and impolite things when motivated to certain levels. However, this part of the story is not relevant - what is relevant though is the fact that I was out on the dark streets of Rome by 7.45 p.m., arm in arm with my father, keeping up with his long and rapid strides.


In a matter of five minutes we reached the place - a building from which the brightest light protruded and lit up the narrow black sidewalk. When we entered the building, the lights blinded us for a moment - but as we progressed into the interior and then onto the next floor, the lights slowly started to disappear, for it was almost closing time. We, or rather only I with my father lagging lackadaisically behind, rushed across the smooth floors, unaware or ignoring the risk of slipping and paying a distressful visit to the hospital. When I finally reached the desired department, my heart stopped beating; standing majestically in front of my petty little figure was a tall, sumptuous showcase firmly locked from prying, unworthy hands. I was so overwhelmed by the splendor of it all that I almost ignored the voice of the woman behind me. You have come in time, she said with an amused tone, and proceeded to unlock the cabinet. My whole body shook with trepidation as I held out my hands to receive that which the lady had taken from one of the shelves to consign to me. At last mine, my inner voice screamed with delight when I wrapped my impatient fingers around the sapphire little box, almost vowing to never let it go.


I had to part from that treasure for a minute as the lady needed to record the transaction in the computer. My father took out a 50 Euro bill from his wallet to complete the bargain, and after that I seized the little blue box for good. It was mine to savor now, and I wasn't about to let it go for a long, long time!

When I came back home, at a much slower and relaxed pace of course, my smile was so wide my older cousin Alamin intuited that I must have bought something valuable, perhaps expensive. He kept poking me, his voracity for my secret deal growing stronger by the minute. I kept shrugging him off and went to Noman instead, whispering in his ears the good news. His smile was an indication of how proud he was of my achievement, however it did not reflect as much surprise as I had hoped it would have. When we tiptoed into the bathroom and locked the door before his annoyingly curious older brother could come in to spy on us, he revealed to me that he had a copy of my treasure too - only his one was ruby in color. I was jarred at first, maybe even a tad bit furious that my best friend had concealed such an important occasion from me, and also feeling a sudden stream of jealousy to hear that he had acquired his precious on the actual day of the release, which was yesterday. But every negative feeling fled away as soon as I opened the blue box to reveal the most simple yet extraordinary object I had ever seen up til then; a small, flat, rectangular disk, that fitted nicely in my palm, colored deep blue and a fancy glittery sticker on one of the wider sides that announced grandiosely in Italian: "Pokémon: Sapphire Version."


I was even more exalted when I held the actual cartridge in my hands. Without any further hesitation, I inserted it into my transparent, sky-blue Gameboy Advance, and slid the switch to 'on'. I felt Noman's head inching closer to the screen synonymously with mine, and our minds strayed off to the land of Pocket Monsters, oblivious to the imploring whines of our envious older sibling resounding from the other side of the door.

   

~Faty

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~Faty

...Stuff

  ~Fary

Whoa! I haven't blogged in AGES! Well, technically, 5 days/ 4 posts.


I don't really have much to say (except "i love you" to you-know-who <3), 'cause my life is currently full of studying, so I'm just gonna let you enjoy this:





and this:





You shall enjoy extreme goodness when Faty and I reunite! 
SHIPPINDIGIDDY!
And Lotifatishka.

Moodara's New Friend

I was so busy lolling at myself I forgot to make you people lol.


Moodara Muchiha made a new friend and got into a fight with Homosnail.

~Faty

LOL

HAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!


Okay I shouldn't laugh at the misery of other people, but it's not a humorous laugh, it's one that says: "You know, sometimes I worry about you."


Anyway I'm feeling great. Aced my exams! Except Accounting. Egh I had it in me all the time; I hate business-related stuff.


Oh and I'm leaving for Italy this July, then London this August, then back to BD, and then when Valentine's comes... I'll be out of BD for good! Then let's see if I get university acceptance letters this summer. Lately I've had too much inspiration. All I need to do now is connect it to spirituality.


My mom is an awesome person. I'll never be as awesome as her... But I can try! She took her Secondary School exams after she got married at 13. She never went to college, and was pregnant by 15 - and yet managed to take her Higher Secondary exams and graduate with the highest honors! I love you mom. You give me the courage to aim higher!


Wow that was totally random. BWHAHAHAHAHAHH I'm just high today. Especially after realizing what a bitch I have been the last 6 months. To everyone really. A big loss contributed to my harshness, but I really can't make any good excuses. But I feel fine now, jubilant - I feel like I can finally see the right way to strive, after accepting all this and apologizing to everyone!


Well that's enough gaydom. Baiiii


---ON CRACK, MIGHT EXPLODE ANYTIME---

~Faty

P.S. "The foolish one addresses me with words of disgrace, but I hate to respond to him in a similar manner. The more ignorant he proves, the more patient I become. Just like the incense; the more it's burnt, the more it releases its fragrance." <-------- I really have to start applying this! May Allah cure my ADHD.