EMPTY VESSELS MAKE THE MOST NOISE.

If you have never experienced the most frustrating moment of your life, you’re lucky and I’m unexplainably envious of you.Well, relying upon my seemingly bogus suppositions, you were never assigned the appealing task of writing for a society which you had joined out of mere freakishness but procrastinated your attempts to draft down an elegant piece for its cause. Drafting down is honestly an overestimation, the worst scenario being not even bothering to brainstorm about a gracile and relevant topic till the last day of submission. When this blank blank,pure white, crisp sheet of paper smoothly laid down infront of you stares back [supplemented with your point partner crying over his broken relationship] you are quite justified in the proclamation of those pangs of uneasiness, spasms of tickles, throngs of insanity [or equivalent] to be your guests while you were trying to counteract the ultimate torture of abstaining from slapping your point partner and fighting back the urges to destroy the neatness of the aforementioned clean-cut paper. You are also not to be blamed if you resorted to doodle some aesthetic shapes onto the paper. Aah, what a doltish creature am I?? why the hell am I deprived of any of any better things to do in the world?? I don’t even know what am I going to wear to the university tomorrow? And why am I so finicky about my outfit? I should preferably finish up wearing all my sweat shirts to university before winter ends. But why the f**k do I care about my adornments?? Why, out of my heedlessness can I never wear my sleeping suit to uni?? And why do I attend to worries like my hairstyle?? Why am I so much in love with bangs despite being aware of the fact that every teenager has virtually exploited the sesky look they bestow the girls with, to the fullest?? Why am I still in a crabby mood because my bangs have grown up and I wanna cut them short again!! I’ve had the same hairstyle since the last 3 yrs and why cant I just be brassed off it? Why such uniformity in my outlook?? This way I’ll never find a guy.Alright..”GUY”..huh, quite a dismal term for me.Why do I care less about guys? Why don’t I enjoy a certain trigger of sentiments when I look at them no matter how hot they appear to others? Why don’t I fancy the feverishness and elation of getting into a relationship? And why am I not a victim of those flip-flops and pinches in my heart regarding which I have read in Nora Roberts? Who is my dream boy? And why is his image so blurred in my mind?? Why am I bereaved of the rushes of adrenaline when others aren’t? am I looser?? When a girl who pronounces ‘prejudice’ as ‘prejoodius’ can be so assertive and confrontational while telling me how to play a pointless ball game, how to defend and how to attack and I can be so unutterably impressed at her ability to be so confident while being totally unknowledgeable herself about the subject, I definitely AM a looser. Am I a morose,sulky,bland-humored individual too? *moans* But how can that be?? I have some interests, I have my likes and dislikes.I like rains, infact I love them!! But then again, theres this incomprehensible problem of not being able to run down the streets with naked feet,dance along the pattering sound of the raindrops, close my eyes, sway with the wind and immerse myself into the fragrance of flowers and and the undescribably pleasing and delightful ambience concocted by the rain? Why am I so mindful and respective of the onlookers? That’s because I’m fearful.Fearful of the glares and gawks of the audiences augmented with gossiping and rotation of heads in my direction. That’s attention isn’t it?? And we all die to capture attention. Then why this sudden hatred for attention when I,at times, crave for it? Why are people so inclined to react absurdly to such cranky and foolhardy behavior?? Arent they humans? Don’t they have desires of their own?? Why cant they just SHUTUP!!!! When it comes to shutting up, my class fellows should be awarded the Nobel Prize for their grotesque ability to astound someone by their loquaciousness and chattering about the most trivial and baseless things in the world but acting like retards and relegating themselves to being called ‘anaesthetized’ or ‘paralyzed’ mortals when it comes to displaying some nobility for another needy and desolate class fellow. Taking a recent example into view, holy shit!! Why the hell couldn’t any one demonstrate his/her audacity when Maria Hassan unreasonably kicked Wardah out of the class?? We were given a very lucid explanation on our orientation, that a teacher cannot mark a student absent unless his/her name has been called out once during the attendance. Then why did she?? Who gave her the authority? Is she the goddess of the world? No she isn’t. Does the mere disconcerted feeling of conceiving oneself as a goddess really makes one a goddess?? No it doesn’t. Because if things would’ve been that way every tom,Dick and Harry would’ve been a god or a goddess.but we, as muslims, believe that theres just one god and no goddess. If this is so, then why are our teacher’s misdeeds irrefutable and unquestionable? Are all her thoughts, attitudes, behavior and actions justified? No!! certainly not! Because I have the sense to discern that she was wrong to classify her daughter as intelligent if she reacted impishly and greedily to the glamour and colours of eid when she was 16 months old. It wasn’t even a sign of being astute. It was just a display of thrill and appeal by her as it would have been with any other normal child in the world. What was so extra ordinary about it? And why is it sometimes so hard for me to fight the urge to borrow a steel rod from the patio and break off her car’s glasses and shatter them into pieces and pieces? Why don’t I just do it then? Because I have fear. Fear of being branded as a terrorist and I know that terrorists are bad. What I don’t know is, why is everyone so proud of their daughters? And why do my aunts consider their daughters as the most beautiful and charming girls in the world? Why do they have to brag about how rapturous they appeared at their wedding,the perfection of photography, the brightness of the colours of their wedding dresses, the purity and grace of the jewelry and how marvelously it matched with their hairstyle and why everyone should have a valid reason to be jealous of them? My mother never brags about me. Why doesn’t she? According to her iam the most laziest girl in the world who finds every genuine reason to justlify her half heartedness…ok ‘HALF HEARTEDNESS’ is my savior for the day. Do u know how?? If not, you’re dumb. Half heartedness leaves you in a position to defend yourself from the predictable allegations that bore the possibility of being thrown at you. Like, I can defend myself if the manager of the society accuse me of not contributing anything to the magazine. I can say, although half heartedly, but I came up with something. Atleast I am better than those who came up with nothing.