You finally come to peace when being afraid carves inside your soul.

In the most stressful times, I end up concluding that I don't like living. It demands way too much energy, strength and courage than I think I have. But I have never really understood, or let understand, whether I am talking about living in today, or living in tomorrow. An unseen tomorrow, full of ambiguity, uncertainty along with the 'buts' and 'what ifs' has fabricated every particle of today in to a facade. A facade, through which, probably very few can sneak. And somehow, this window dressing is an essential key to survival these days. The dark realities of tomorrow are so blogged inside the head, that they make stand every hair follicle of our bodies to stand to attention - the attention that we employ towards painting a tomorrow. 

When I come to think of it, I have never really lived my present. 

As I sprang out of my mother's womb, I made my way up the ladder and grew into a child. Since then, every day is a race. A fast moving heat which absorbs me so much in the darker sides of a horrific tomorrow, that my pulse and heartbeat only directs itself in either getting eroded by its thought, or gets me on toes to resolve the issues that I think 'might' occur - because they are still unseen.

There are times when I fight for peace, and rest of the times, I simply cave in to the atrocities of the present dismissing them as part of the cliched setup and lifestyle we live in. But now I feel, struggling for a conjecture of life that 'may' occur is pointless and vague. Worry becomes a breaking point, where you lose yourself in the palpable destructive eruptions of tomorrow, resulting in a dull moment of the present. I don't think I can ever attain peace in running towards an end which is written yet unseen. One minute, I want to really live in the moment and see how it feels; the next moment I want to pave a beautiful offing. This does hold true, thanks to the notion - a stringent today leads to a better morrow. But since I do not know the number of breaths I am entitled, all my efforts might go in vain. Precisely, I never fully lived a day just to ensure a soothing prospective chapter - the thought is not pleasing.

As a little girl, I built a crystal palace, very exuberant and enchanting. But I never entered inside it because I thought there is always a right time for everything. As a youngster, I thought my job was only to gain the best possible education, yield the maximum output out of it. When I sat and wondered, I thought of magnificence as a chapter of my life which hasn't yet begun. A chapter - which will be real and better than my dreams. However, having lived for all these years, I have understood that there is no overnight happening miracle which will lead me to my palace, where I will be the empress of my kingdom. There is no key to an eternity of tension-less and bright culmination in this world. Life will move around in form of a big dipper. With its shifts of upheaval to legato passages, it will expose itself in so many unimaginable, inconceivable highs and lows of compact and lean substances. 

It took so long to fathom this unnerving world. After persistent disrupts of composure, I construed the actuality independent of all other realities. I really wonder how long it will take to live in an earthly sphere of now and not a realm of dubiety - that we call our 'future.'

So many years were long enough to understand this. But it is never too late. 2012 may be not materially a successful year, but I guess, so far, most challenging yet thriving in its own way. When you come to reason your own fears and emotions is where your books begins. This is the first step towards shining alight with peace.... sometime, some day, sooner, than soon. 

This is where your book begins; the rest is still unwritten.

Fears of the Fall

Autumn with its one million colours of mauve, rust and yellow ended. Leaving memories, some pleasant, and the rest not-so-pleasant... oh well. As winter is drawing in, I feel myself stagnating into an abyss of glumness. Perhaps, the effect of weather spreading the somberness all around me, through every aching bone in my body. The feeling honeycombs within, filling the mind and heart with hopelessness. Although, I am not sure if weather alone is the reason behind the melancholy; however, it seems like one of the most apparent causes. If so, weather alone can become a leading factor to many things in life. 

I steep into this cavity often. I don't know what is the force behind it? But it feels as if the mind is flooded with a billion thoughts, as undefined in the subconscious memory, as if they are unknown to my actual existence. It takes less than a fraction of a second to drown into this emptiness, but requires a fast-pulling force to sneak out of it. Some call it depression; the rest call it a hormonal imbalance.  I think of it as something else entirely. Precisely, it's the biggest problem of my life. This race needs to end, these thoughts need to curtail. Somewhere, something tells what could lead to these clustered sequences of drab and fade; yet a part of me wants to explore beyond the obvious. I am on my mettle to figure out what it is.

Inner peace - where are you?

Lost in the chasm of space and time

Comes the dawn: with the grace of a woman; not a grief of a child.

I know that there are times when loving someone becomes difficult and that we are bound to get hurt from time to time. Then you realise that after a while you learn, that life does go on...

After a while, you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead. With the grace of woman, not the grief of a child. 

And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.After a while, that you really can endure, you really are strong, you really do have worth, and you learn, and you learn with every goodbye, you learn. 

Then, After "after a while" you change, and build your hopes again. And pray that maybe this time it will be different. And you hold on to that hope because in the end that's all you really have.

After "AFTER A WHILE",

After 'after a while', you want to hold a hand not to chain a soul but to enjoy its company, and you want someone's lips to kiss, not because you are lonely but because you are happy, and you want to give presents and you want to make promises.After 'after a while', you begin to accept your defeats like an adult, but like a child will want someone to listen and care, and you want someone who will build roads with you today so maybe you can pave the way for your future together.After 'after a while', you want someone's sunshine and warmth, but also accept the rain and the cold, and you want to give flowers picked from your own garden. And when your garden is picture perfect, you want it to be more than a picture even if it means having to be imperfect because you want someone in it to stay and to live.Then, you'll see that there is such a thing as love, and that you were made to live in someone else's garden, and you'll know that there is more to life than yourself.

AND NOW,

You realize that no matter how tightly you hold, if you're meant to let go, you can.And then, you will understand that love gives you reasons to understand even the most complicated situations. And you will grow older believing that just because you have convictions, doesn't mean you're always right.You will remember lips because of the smiles that made your day, the words that touched your soul; not only because of the sweet kisses.And as you graciously accept defeat and absorb the meaning of lessons learned, you feel that you are finally being the person you never thought you'd be.

So, armed with courage, strength and confidence, you will face the world, head on... With or without an army behind you. Because you know your worth and that alone is an amour.

With more heartbreaks you will cry; but after every heartache, you will rise.

Life is a garden... It takes long to make it beautiful. But it's always worth the wait.

Elegance is in the heart.

Mujhe meri zaat chahiye. Mujhe meri zaat kyun nahi milti?

Presently, the Pakistani media is flooded with numerous morning shows and serials. In the midst of these, Sheh-re-zaat emerged as one of the marvelously shot novels, that makes you forget that there is a screen between the audience and actors. Its transparency diffused the curtain between the stage and the viewers. Out of several works such as Hamsafar, by Sarmad Sultan Khoosat, Sheh-re-zaat has taken precedence over many others. The story line by Umera Ahmed, who has been one of the best writers and directors; her series of hits include Qaid-e-Tanhai, Meri zaat zarra-e-benishaan and Doraha; Sheh-re-zaat has added on to her list of credible highlights.

The plot revolves around Falak, who is precisely an embodiment of beauty and brains. Belonging to the elite class, she enjoys being a paradigm of prime focus of her parents and friends. She is the centre of attention and never been deprived of anything. Concisely, she controlled her world of endless desires and luxuries. Herself, a very pampered daughter of rich parents gets her way faster than she would blink. The usual happens when she falls in love with a handsome man called Salman. After a trial of initial resistance from Salman, he succumbs to Falak's wishes and they lavishly tie the knot. The grand wedding takes place attracting the attention of all high end parties in the society, following a lucullan feast. Life keeps bringing on-going parcels of excitement for Falak until destiny finally decides to doom her. Seemingly, without reason, Salman starts behaving strangely distant. Falak burns the candles to resolve the issue at a personal level, until she learns of her husband's extra marital affair with a worker in his factory. In all aggression, she decides to meet the new woman to ask her to take a dignified leave out of her husband's life. To her shock, the woman turns out to be ugly and loose in character. With that, Falak contemplates over the true purpose of life. Instead of forcing Tabinda away, she permits Salman to marry her. The blatant rejection by her beloved was enough for her to ponder about the driving force behind the whole universe. She begins to explore the actual value of possessions. She contemplates more deeply about nature and destiny. It was no less than falling off the seventh sky into a deep pit; she continues to cover her journey full of stones that pricked beneath her feet. Hopelessly, she started; however, attained victory. At last, Falak reasons every single breath she took, every clot of blood in her body and how this entire world is subject to immortality.

Falak eventually becomes the true achiever. Her husband reverts to her - who was shattered by Tabinda's betrayal. He finds that his wife had reformed wholly in terms of spirituality and belief, who now directed herself only to the Creator and not any finite affection. She extends compassion towards the Supreme Power who she discovers at the forsaking by her own husband, who once was the emperor of her kingdom.

Sheh-re-zaat, to me, has come beyond just a serial. I am not an avid serial follower; yet, this has by far been the most profound and impacting story outlines I have come across. The beautiful change in the woman just by believing in the power of nature elevated her integrity up another level. One aligns to the fact that every form worship is futile except the one directed to Him. The ultimate belief in Him safeguards the soul of a human off any blemishes. You reach a point when bowing to him activates a sequence of ridding of any undesired sediments. This entire practice is one of divinity, a cleansing of the walls of one's spirit that leads to a catharsis. To attain peace, the best way is to undergo an emotional purge to the satisfaction of one's mind, which ultimately outer performs every other material resource.

Falak walks across the righteous door by breaking the sculpture she made of a man and had found Salman to be a breathing manifestation of it. She places faith in her Master and regards every form of relationship as imperfect except God. Rightly so, "Dunya ki har muhabbat ko zawaal hai."

If only we signify, this earthly journey is precious and an ideology as strong can save lives eternally. For every breath is meditation and understanding the combination can transform your life.

Sheh-re-zaat: Full of deep life learning lessons. A course to recharging faith from scratch such that you stop fearing your future; it strengths the soul to build a connection where all you need is Him; challenges so massive that jog you to your destination - "Dil ajeeb shehar hai, ajeeb cheezain maangta hai, ajeeb cheezain kerne ko kehta hai" - An epic ending that makes you tear eyed yet complete in the best ever way that there is. An ending that cultivates in you an urge strong enough to revise, reform and remain.

“Allah Ki Mohabbat Ke Siwa, Har Mohabbat Ko Zawal Hai.
Aur Rab Asliyat Dekha Deta Hai. Har Rishte, Har Mohabbat Ki. 
Phir Wo Sab Kuch Dekha Ker Adami Se Kehta Hai, 
"Ab Bata, Tera Mere Siwa Kon Hai?” 

RIP Hope.

The last few weeks have damaged my soul, perhaps irreparably. Every newsflash on TV, every online news post, every facebook status has been a blow, first bruising my optimism, then incising through it until all that is left is a gaping hole with every ounce of hope spurting out of it. Nothing seems to heal it. Its like you're being sucked into the quicksand of despair, and every effort you make to cling onto any shred of optimism seems to suck you in even deeper. How low have we stooped as a nation. First the rampant terrorism, then the ruthless murder of minorities, blowing up houses of worship, lynching innocent boys, corrupt politicians and now they've snatched the last bit of optimism from the nation. Pakistani cricket, perhaps breathed its last of late. I just feel sick to the guts. Is there any hope left now? You wonder if there are any honest good people left anymore? Or are they practically extinct? Is morality and honesty a forgotten virtue now? I try to find hope from the most trivial of things. Yesterday it was the joy of finding a mosque for Jummah in a small English town. This morning, it was the expectation of a youthful Pakistani team making the nation proud. Now, its nothing.

Its not that cricket alone seems to mend it or the fact that the cricketing scandal hit me so hard. Its just that perhaps cricket represented the collective hope and optimism of people who were drowning in this constant daily deluge of death and despair. It united us, gave us hope and was something to make us smile. when nothing else worked. Now, it turns out that it was a facade as well, hiding the evil face of deceit, corruption and greed. They betrayed us; all of us. The few remaining simple, optimistic, hopeful ones amongst us. It is like in a dark, dingy, suffocating room, cricket represented a crack in the wall from which fresh air and light managed to reach us. Now, with that gone, we're all left to suffocate in the darkness of despair.

It is a dog eat dog world out there. I was always an idealist, always in the false delusion that perhaps ideals and virtue reign supreme, at least, in the end. I don't know what to believe in anymore. I love my country, even though I've practically not done much for it. Yet I love it to bits, the kind of love that can make you teary eyed and think about it before sleeping. I'm always the one defending Pakistan whenever one of my friends or acquaintances or random strangers badmouth it. I can't do that anymore. It's like somebody has knocked you in the stomach so many times that it has sucked the air out of you and before you get the last knockout punch, you just give up and fall to avoid further pain and humiliation. To those living in a foreign land, your ONLY identity is your country. People identify you as a Pakistani. And every time something like this happens, you hang your head in shame and act defensive, claiming that it's just a few mad people, a few greedy people, a few corrupt people. How long can you realistically keep doing that? Sooner or later empirical evidence would suggest that instead of a few random occurrences, it is in fact a deep-rooted, systematic and ideological phenomenon that is enshrined within the mentality of the people, that it is some incurable malaise that plagues our hearts, minds and souls. I've given up on the inherent goodness of people. All the good people (who are an endangered species) end up being used, abused, and thrown to the dogs. I don't know what to say anymore. Its like another flood has submerged my brain. The deluge of hopelessness and depression. Perhaps, I need to take a break from the world wide web; the blogs, the depressing facebook status', the television news channels and the online newspapers. Perhaps, ignorance really is bliss in this crazy world.

I'm heartbroken. There is a big void in my soul now. In a small corner of that void is a tombstone reading: RIP HOPE.

Random meetings...aren't that random!

Ever sat and recollected all those instances, apparently most trivial, that hold the crux of the situation, that we let go.

As humans, we all tend to believe in coincidences. Often, they bring the amount of happiness that we do not receive otherwise. Most of the things in life we witness, we call them "coincidences". May that be meeting someone randomly, tripping on to a page on the internet, or just bumping into an old friend at a restaurant down the road. But in most cases, our minds fall short of the ability to comprehend that it was just not a coincidence, it was a connection that was meant to be, that was bound to happen. I personally gain nothing out of things that I try to reason - how, why and where - the trial of never ending questions, but just believing that sometimes goodness knocks at your door is merely not a coincidence. A lot of us witness signs that are beyond comprehension, dreams that hold latent interpretation, incidences that manifestly do not unmask the motive but placing faith and believing that it is usually for our betterment. Such instances we come across are a message from heaven.

The world is overly populated today. You can't find someone to form a link with by setting out in the dark holding a candle. Life keeps surprising you every moment. In the most casual of locations, least important occasions and a complete non-situation is where one travels a milestone that can change your life from scratch.

On the spur of the moment it's hard to realise this. But life shows you seasons, that reasons do not know or understand. God paves ways that our eyes don't see just because minds don't comprehend. Accidents, incidents and co incidents happen just to unchain a road that becomes your torch eventually.

If only, with every step in life, we realise, it's not random. Those random meetings...are not that random. Hang in there till your puzzle finds a meaning. You never know when you come across something or someone that would later be the interpretation to your dreams. It's only upon arrival that your mind solves the riddles and is able to bridge the connection.

“Invisible threads are the strongest ties.” 

It's amazing how a song can hold such huge amount of significance

You want reality unmasked? - Choose death.

Howling winds and shattering window panes, heavy raindrops hitting the tin roofs in patterns, causing it all together to sound like a vicious melody. Romantic weather or a pure sign from God? Time for lovers to miss each other or for every being to clasp their hands and bow their heads in prayer? The hourly changing weather nothing but another step towards the end of this mortal world, yet people seem to be engrossed in their ignorance. The reality shines with utmost clarity, yet their eyes seem to act as mirrors; reflecting it all away. Evil from beyond has played its part with precision. Managed to tie an invisible blindfold around each and every one of us impeccably, leaving us with an ability to view,but depriving us from the power of observation. We see the atrocities, yet we fail to realize the truth. We know the facts, but are devoid of the much needed belief. I look around me and, although I'm in no way superior than the other, I feel that every single being rushing by me is hollow. It is as though I can see right through them,and not see a soul in any one of these walking bodies. And this weak soul in every one of us is what lets the powers succeed in their villainous mission. I see people quench their thirst with water, fighting their hunger with food, and I think to myself: is there anyone out there capable and convincing enough to explain to them that food and water only aid in suppressing physical needs? The soul needs much more than that; it needs belief, a belief so strong it gives the all-knowing master up above no other choice but to make you succeed, it needs devotion, and lastly it needs the pure truth; not a customized view of the world to make it seem pleasurable and immortal.

...We need to be ready for the here-after, and we need to start right away before its too late to redeem ourselves.

Ask your heart what mothers worth, your heart will say, "heaven on earth" -

To anyone who told you you're no good... they're no better.

What defines growing up? Quitting all those things that were once part of life in the youth does not define 'growing up'. In reality, we all know we have grown up when we stand solely on the mountain built by our own thoughts, derived from our very emotions.

"We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public" -Bryan White

In the aura of everyday life, we blend with the moving times and tend to forget those little things that once brought us happiness, thinking that they are a thing of the past. As an adult today, when I look back, one of the many exciting chapters of life as kids was 'cartoons'. Watching them even when you turn 40 does not weigh you down from growing up - or does it? They definitely don't. Cartoons come as riddle to human minds. With them, they bring smiles that burst. Most of us are a rolling dice, thanks to the humour they provide.

You know you have grown up when you mature. You know you have matured when you simply know what you want from life. You stop chasing. Instead, one starts creating their own self. Equipped with logic and emotion, you are ultimately a person you never thought you will be. We all grow up and learn of a side of us that is unique. Being what you are not is a waste of your own existence. By being yourself, you add an element to this world that never existed before.

Growing up does not mean letting go childishness - "Childishness? I think that's the equivalent of never losing your sense of humour" -Walt Disney. Every single person grows up to be unique with their own thoughts and ideas. As humans, one should believe in the inherent goodness of people. If my logic differs from yours, I will not consider you 'bad'. Don't judge anyone just because they sin differently.

An ideal homogenisation is achieved when we adapt according to different situations. Humour, ego, logic, emotion, love and spirit sums up to transform each of us as a person, a separate soul charged with an idea and sentiment to move on, to make a difference.

Lastly, you know you are unique, you really do have worth. You know you can endure. And you know you are a strong. So don't distress for anyone who doesn't find you even; always let your conscience be your guide.

When you light your own candle to brighten your soul and gracefully become your own armour

~ Solitude ~

Story of every heart who says good bye to a certain someone, home or your native land:

There was a time when I dreaded solitude. Who wants to be alone on their own. Hostel life had made me used to be in the company of friends 24/7. Life was full of hustle and bustle. Whenever I went back home, it was the same; surrounded by siblings who'd make sure there wasn't a dull moment.

Then when I came here, solitude became a regular companion. So many days and nights spent in unknown cities, amidst people who I had never known and spending nights in hotel rooms, practically living out of the suit case. Having a housemate who was in the same profession also didn't help. When I was back home, she would be away and vice versa. Weekends were better in terms of being amongst friends but that too for a couple of hours at most. The great things about humans is how adaptable we are. Slowly and gradually, we adjust to solitude and get used to the peace and quiet. It has its own charm. The silence doesn't resonate in your soul. It echoes with your conscience and helps you realize things which you wouldn't have pondered otherwise. The deeper meanings of life. Your relationship with the Creator and His Creation. You find whole new worlds and ideas in books that become your best friends. It is a refreshingly healing experience for your soul. Back home or amongst friends, people just ask you questions; loads and loads of never ending questions. The whys, the whens, the whos and the hows. When your on your own, you get the time to pose questions to yourself; straightforward and honest questions - And that gets you thinking. A train of thought, imagination, creativity, everything gets going. You reach a state when you stop running after people. You see you don't need them. All you need is Him, only Him. People, they come they go. The ones that last, you take them as His blessings, but you learn to disassociate yourself from expectations related to people. 

I know, too much of everything is not good. The middle path, the balanced approach is the best. However, there is a reason why all the great sufis, the thinkers and even our Holy Prophet (PBUH) turned to solitude. It brings you closer to God and helps clarify alot of things that are no longer obvious in the hustle bustle of life.

♥ .. [[ Man loves company - even if it is only that of a small burning candle]] .. ♥ 

“I restore myself when I'm alone.” 
― Marilyn Monroe

Metamorphosis ~ *voices in my head*

"Did I prepare myself for the hereafter, before it was too late to redeem myself?"

Admist the stones and uneven ground, I lay uncapacitated. Powerless to the extreme, my veins leeched blood under the firing blaze of the sun that wouldn't let my eyes focus on anything but keep shut. I was a hopeless solidier, bruised, disgruntled and undermined. My soul was torn apart, heart shattered and spirits maligned. Yet, head-to-head, I scuffled to keep my efforts going. My eyes were swollen, lips were crushed, trickling thick layers of blood due to internal injuries inside the mouth. I sniffed and fought with my breaths - apparently they were coming to an end. Overly vulnerable, my hands experienced a restricted movement - wounds bled profusely. The next second, I decided to encounter myself against my own mysteries, when I realised, my feet rested enchained between two huge rocks. However, nothing could uncork the passion inside me: I just had to struggle till I was above the ground and breathing - said the voices in my head.

The peak of afternoon passed. I still lay stranded. Heavy winds blew as the evening approached. Persistently, I held myself on my elbows and tried to pursue a finger dance to force myself out of this setting. The clouds and lightening clashed. Previously, my eyes peaked at my body that was imbrued in blood clots and scratches. No sooner, I found myself drenched in the spitting the rain had caused. Despite this anguish, my mind could not escape what even my constricted sore eyes did not ignore. Involuntarily, I had captivated those few moments in my brain as remnants of last patches of memory retrieval. Incessantly, my heart beat every minute diminshed, making me terror-stricken.

My bones froze between pointed stones of huge lengths. I was haunted and impaired - physically and mentally both. But I couldn't ask for more. I geniunely wished that this state alone led me to the hereafter. These last few hours had transformed me altogether as a human, by belief, spirit and faith. The destitute surrounded me, bare-footed, hungry and unsheltered, pleading for a grain of wheat. Another young boy tucked himself under an unclothed tree just to seek refuge. What more could I ask for? - I grew up like a princess, with a silver spoon and received loads of gold chains on my first birthday. My parents lovingly fetched corns for me every day that were spoon-fed to me. Not to forget, my desires were fulfilled before the words even slipped off my lips and my parents reacted to each of it faster than I ever blinked. What more could I ask for? I was crowned quicker than I could ever breathe.

Fading images of women carrying barrels of water on their shoulders elevated my heartbeat. The rest carried corns behind their back just to feed their children - earned me the realisation that my story all along was picture perfect. The sight was unimagineably transforming, inspirational and real. The birds lay before me with wings chopped off, in a state worse off than mine... That young boy who cried invariably but noone responded to his screams? The poor girl craved for water - my hiccups never went unguarded. Oh how much could I thank the Creator for making me who I am? He endowed me with a sense of understanding, abilities, dreams and more importantly, the overgrowing desire to fulfill them. Moreover, equiped me with endless resources to find myself as an extraordinary being before anything else. Furnished around me was a world that was made out of blocks of lego - I could alter it as I willed. Armed with courage, my only weapon, I walked every step to put my entire existance to discover a true side to myself. What more could I ask for? Cosmetically, I walked every inch towards my destination. In my dreams I saw a castle, I was its princess, its glory and life. 

Could I be better off? Or could I ever envision myself sailing a boat by a desolate coast - a boat that was half sunk due to a hole beneath, before the journey even begun. Oh... Could I be better off? My chapter was exorable. I shut my eyes finally, my heartbeat had obstructed definitely. Gradually, the images withered but they had become part of my film. 

The soul couldn't ask for more. The end of my journey was inevitable. I deemed fit in my wings as I flew my way through. Fortunate enough, metamorphosis chose me before reality unmasked itself. My eyes sparkled as I saw my destination calling me.

47.  "Fabi-ayyi ala-i rabbikuma tukaththiban" - Then which of the favours Of your Lord will ye deny? Surah Rahman.

"Then which of the favours Of your Lord will ye deny?"

Nothing more inspiring than the man around you that you consider strongest - Father

Father's birthday celebration

A son is a son till he gets his wife; a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life. The reason why daughters love their Dad the most in this world is that there is at least one man in the world who will never hurt them. A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend. 

A woman is always a mystery: one must not be fooled by her face and her hearts inspiration.

Sitting in a cafe the other day, I overheard some guys few inches away talk and complain about how their partner would make life difficult for them. Just a couple of them had enough courage to sort matters out while the rest just chose to let go off it. They felt they were too cool to 'discuss' the issues for that matter, and would be better off single. 

Next, I hear about how my own male friends would say, "a woman is the most complicated of God's creations". This, however, holds true. From head to toe, every mesh of a woman speaks differently which makes her eminent and glowy before everything else that exists on the face of this universe. Every woman needs attention, but most detest saying it. Every man needs a faithful woman, but most of them who have one show as if it ain't no big deal. However, the difference is, most content of all women is the one who means the world to one man. 

Heart-rending and fervid mood swings are normal for every woman. Being a man, most of you cannot decrypt her inflammatory phases. Sometimes, it takes it all to please her, and at other times, you got to take it slow. I see and hear guys having a laugh on every second thing a woman does, dismissing that act to be extremely 'typical'. The fact is, they simply fail to understand the thought process behind the action. She may resort to tears as a release for her pent-up frustrations. In such a fragile state, she isn't looking for a trite Mr. Fix-It synopsis of the matter, she's most likely just looking for someone who is willing to validate her feelings and give her the support she needs to solve things on her own. Crying is a foreign concept to most men, and it can be hard to navigate a situation charged with emotion and tears. You'll probably feel like you have no ability to help her snap out of it, but actually you might just be the best person for the job. 

You don't have to conquer the world out there to solve her riddle. The least that need be done is acknowledgement to why she cries easily. With shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world yet gentle to give comfort, she tends to break at the most unreasonable of situations. She reasons, in forms of tears, the rejection that comes her way time and again, sometimes from her own children along with the suffering that she takes. Despite the hardness within her to keep going come whatever, she feels fatigued. Even when she is hurt beyond repair, she unconditionally loves her children under any and all circumstances. She has the strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart. The deep felt emotion stirs her hot button inside and streams in form of tears. She has wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths. As a result, standing beside him unfaltering and unconditionally overwhelms her. The tear she sheds is exclusively hers. There's no way she should hesitate to claim ownership of it. 

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides. "The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart." - Josiah G. Holland

 When she loves, she's selfless. Rest assured, she completes a man truly by every sense of the word - "You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, she is beautiful because you love her."

True love is powerful than anything else. It is transforming, righteous, ultimate and eternal. - "Only love of a good woman will make a man question every choice, every action. Only love makes a warrior hesitate for fear that his lady will find him cruel. Only love makes a man both the best he will ever be, and the weakest. Sometimes all in the same moment." -Wicked

"Let us be thankful to people who make us happy. They are the charming gardeners of our souls" -Marcel Proust

A woman's enchanted fancies

true beauty of a woman is her passion; apparently, cosmetics are easier to buy.