Dark Academia Aesthetic - Blog Posts

میرے کمرے کو سجانے کی تمنا ہے تمہیں

میرے کمرے میں کتابوں کے سوا کچھ بھی نہیں

- جون ایلیا

मेरे कमरे को सजाने की तमन्ना है तुम्हारी,

मेरे कमरे में किताबों के सिवा कुछ भी नहीं ।

- जौन एलिया

Image taken from pinterest

And one day, she also decided to leave.. I did not ask for an explanation this time, I was tired of asking people to stay. I have made peace with people going away.. holding on hurts, letting go hurts.

"Maybe one day", I am no longer waiting for that one day.. once gone, people never return, me having expectations puts a hole, only in my heart.

"People never return" or maybe I have fallen for wrong people all along?

Image taken from pinterest

~ Necromancer

I have read books after books, seen series after series, listened songs after songs. nothing, just nothing moves me anymore.

I have stopped caring about myself, my beard is unkempt, hell I don't even know how long it has grown. I don't even remember when was last time I looked at myself in mirror. I just do not want to look into my eyes anymore, what will I answer to my reflection? Who am I? What have I become? the existential dread I have is far more greater than my willingness for self care.

How long is my hair? when was the last time I had a haircut? Why do I feel no love? for myself, for others? I can't help but think about Gregor Samsa, how he must have felt when he turned into a bug, to not able to associate with your body, not able to recognize yourself, not able to care about yourself. How did he feel when none of his family members cared about him, the ones he expected some amount of sympathy were the ones who were the very first to abandoned him. How did it felt to be different? in the most unwanted way.

Maybe I know, No, I am not a bug, or some character from Kafka's dreadful fantasies but I have known all those feelings at some point of my life, those situation which make you stop and think, am I real or some figment of Kafka's stories?

Have you ever felt a moment where all eyes were on you and you felt like you were the oddest one of all humans which exist on this earth? If yes, you definitely know how it feels to be in my situation, this constant paranoia of my life which keeps on asking me to put a facade on my face is the reason I am always on the edge looking for a way to jump out of my skin and crawl underneath a chair just like Gregor.

I would be normal one day, I will look into my eyes someday. Hope it is not like Gregor.

(Image taken from Pinterest)

˜ Necromancer

I once dreamed I was a butterfly, and now I no longer know whether I am person, who dreamed I was a butterfly, or whether I am butterfly dreaming that I am a person.

~ Chuang-tzu

I am afraid of approaching someone now,

it was easier for me back when I was in school because we all basically had same lives, same cities, houses close by, smaller, similar circle of friends. even in college it was easier to catch up with whatever happened back in someone’s school days, we all shared similar school time tales, traumas, break up stories.

Approaching someone in adulthood is just like collision of two worlds (though it is true for all relationships be it school, college, work or any other stream of life), it all seems so overwhelming. The sheer aspect that another person has a different life altogether since last some 20 something years, they will be having completely different friend groups, so many life events, so many trauma. I do agree that humans are so beautiful when they’ve stories to tell and it is the beauty of randomness of everyone’s life that makes them unique.

Along with that there is a constant anxiety that time is slowly slipping away from you, as the later 20s creep in on you, this anxiety slowly grows bigger and bigger taking shape of a big question mark on yourself.

was I never enough? Will I ever find love? Am I supposed to be like this forever? Do I even deserve someone’s love?

The cycle of self doubt never ends.

As kafka said,

There are times when I am convinced I am unfit for any human relationship.

(Image taken from pinterest)

~ Necromancer

Temporary

I have been meeting people since long, I have seen temporary people, I have been with few. They are sometimes the most amazing people you will ever meet.

I met a person, temporary or not, I didn't knew if they will be here with me forever or not, we met, we talked, we went out a few times, and it was all amazing, felt like life couldn't get any better. We were eyesore to everyone around us, I wrote in my diary for them

"I have been living life in this dark abyss, the black and white world, they have brought back the colours of life to me, it all feels beautiful"

They went away, I was drowned in colours, all the colours they gave me. all the red, green, blue.

It should have been end of it all.

their return brought back all the colours, it was all rainbows and butterflies, it was as if I was a little kid who has been handed the crayons for the first time, excited, bubbly and ready to paint the world in their colours.

but sometimes, temporary people should remain temporary, they are meant to be.

maybe the temporary people shouldn't be given too much information about your life, that's the reason they are not permanent, right? because they are non-judgemental as long as they don't know about you.

Once you start making a temporary person a permanent one in your life, that is the moment you are destined to ruin your own feelings and respect for that person. such kind of people are meant to know very little about you, just meet them, have non-judgemental fun with them and move on. holding onto them will ruin your own mental being.

the return of that person in my life, was a pleasant surprise, but all the colours slowly blended into each other, creating a thick, viscous shade of crimson red. it was blood, my blood, the blood of my feelings. the slow, viscous decline of my sanity blending into some bit my self-destructing nature, triggering it all. just like a juicer cutting down all the pieces of fruits into a gooey mess, slowly turning the fruit into a thick paste of nothingness, just pure insides of the fruit.

for all I know, I was husk of a person remaining, all of my insides have been chopped up into the pieces, the pieces of my being, the pieces of my existence, broken, broken, broken down, mixed, churned, gulped and eaten alive.

the fruits which stay put tend to rot faster, they get replaced with new fruit. young and fresh. the one fear I hold came true to me, again.

I wrote for them again in my diary:

"all the colours which came back, were nothing but shades of red"

(Image taken from Pinterest)

~ Necromancer

as you touched my hands, my heart was in million of pieces already, I knew you hurt me, I knew it was you who broke it in pieces, but still I was picking each piece with my bare hands, while I bled, still I was picking them up only to write your name once again, I was not collecting my pieces to heal it, I was collecting them to give it to you again, maybe it was my sadistic need to be broken by you again and again.

my lips trembled your name, uttering "I love you" again and again, you stood there responding to my plea to be killed by you again with a heartfelt smile like a butcher feeding his fowls before slaughtering them...

Maybe people will call me fool for not letting you go, but what is a love which doesn't put a knife through your heart, leaves you bleeding on the floor, while watching blood gushing out of your heart, and crying with a wretched smile hiding underneath, it's the pain, the sheer agony which excites this feeling of love.

~ Necromancer

kometebuch 1587

I’m sure many are affected by the news we’ve received as of late. This does hurt, if you did not know this person that’s okay as well. The event has been occurring time and time again with people of all sides. I’m sure you can relate to a time of mental challenge. Maybe you’re going through them right now. Reach out! It’s okay. We must prevent this from happening, for the sake of all. Young children to tend to young adults and adults to older adults. From people struggling in school or career or their marriage/ relationship or with themselves. We have so much power at the tip of our fingers. Use it in a good way. I hope this message is reached by many more.

Woah, why can’t I remember thoughts like this. Cause I’m sure I once had them. I sadly have no fucking clue now. This is amazing tho- Art comes from…..

Before it became poetry, it was actual pain. Before it became art, it was blood.

- Daniel Saint

I wish that more people knew that this is key to having a grand scope of perspective. Formulating opinions, and just take time to imagine. Be quirky, be curious and you’ll find yourself researching on random things. That’s the key, just remember to jot it down somewhere you won’t forget. You never know, you might get a story out of it. As for my many stories that might never see the light of day and night, maybe your time will come.

What advice would you give to young or beginning writers?

Read everything. Read the stuff you like and read the stuff you don't think you'll like. Read the things that people think it's good for you to read and read the things they seem worried about you reading. Read prose and poetry and fiction and non-fiction. Get off your phone and read books without interruption. Read the classics and read the cutting edge. Read everything you can get your hands on.

– @neil-gaiman

Na manam, na manam yara! Marg anjaam da hastay na de.

Khlasidal sharab pa jaam ke, ikhtitaam da mastay ne de.

Nah! I dont believe, i dont agree with it, death is not the end of existence.

Finishing up a cup of wine, is not the end of joy.

- 𝑮𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊 𝑲𝒉𝒂𝒏

Image source: we heart it.

Poetry: malghalari by pashtoscoop

Afghan Dark Academia consists of wearing velvet kuchi dresses and drinking kahwah while listening to classical Rabab music and analysing poems of Rumi, Rahman Baba and Hafez.

"I desire so deeply to be held and told that I am the star who renders the night endurable."

-anonymous