The Guest

“You’re late.”

“Woke up late, sorry.”


I sat down on my seat and looked up to see her leaning back into hers. I could tell from her expression that I was in for a yelling.


“Woke up late? You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

“Sort of…”

“Seriously, I’m so tired of seeing you like this. Every day you grow thinner and thinner, your eyes are so deeply sunken into your head, they’re swollen from crying, red from rubbing… even your hair looks like a birds nest.”


There it was. Every time we met I would be bombarded with her negative observations of me. For a moment my mind drifted away…


“Are you even listening to me?”

“Oh, yes, I am.”


She sighed.


“Look, you and I both know that I know you better than anyone else, so I only say this out of concern. You’ve become pathetic.
Life knocked you down again and again and again, but it only happens because you fail to learn. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. You never listen.
You’re constantly left broken hearted because you trust too deeply, and everyone finds a way to walk all over you – how can you not get annoyed at that?”

“I do. I do get annoyed. I’m just too tired now to bother feeling anymore. I’m sick of the pain, so cut me some slack and leave me alone, will you.”


Her eyes opened wider for a moment as she noticed my rebellion. I had definitely struck a chord with her. Good.


“I don’t even feel sorry for you anymore, you know that? Sometimes I feel like I’m all you’ve got though, that’s why I stick around.”

“I don’t need you to stick around if all you do is hate on me.”

“I’m just trying to get you to see what you’ve become, that’s all. The whole event left you feeling like you’ll never be good enough… for anything!!!”


I squirmed in my seat at the mention of ‘the’ event, but tried to keep myself composed.
It had indeed left me broken. Shattered. It wasn’t the first time either. I had become used to the sound of my own soul breaking, so much so that I sometimes prayed to become deaf to it.


“What am I going to do with you? No matter what you try to do, how pretty you try to make yourself look, how hard you study, how kind you try to be, how stupidly trusting you are, you’re always going to end up in the same mess. Want to know how I know that? Because I know you better than anyone else.”


Here she goes again, with the whole ‘I know you better’ rubbish. No, she doesn’t… does she?

She straightened up, as though trying to calm herself down before addressing the ‘problem’ in front of her. It made me move in my seat to straighten out my spine too. Ok, I was ready for the next bout.


“I’m only saying this for your own good, but maybe you should just leave this place. Think about it. Nothing seems to be working out for you. You have no one to really understand you, your career is practically non-existent because of your degrading health, no one realllly cares about you, you’re not getting any younger either, I won’t even mention relationships… why are you still even here?”


I had become robotic and numb over the last few years, all thanks to a rollercoaster of events and problems, but those words did cut me deeply. The worst part? I almost agreed with a lot of it too, until, that is, I mentally slapped myself back into reality and glared back at her.


“I know I’m not perfect, I know I don’t have much, I know I’m horribly scarred and I know things keep getting worse, but I have no choice but to get on with the show.
I don’t expect to wake up to a vivacious life, but even if I’m numb, I’ll keep going… because I do have some things to live for.”


The door creaked open and we both looked over to see Mum poking her head around the door. “Come down and have some lunch, love, it’s getting cold. Also, who were you talking to?” She looked at me with her usual concerned gaze before disappearing once again behind my bedroom door.


I looked back into the mirror and to the uninvited guest who never seemed to have anything better to do than to remind me of my ever growing flaws.


“I guess we’ll have to pick this up later as usual then! Don’t forget, I know you better than anyone else!”


“Shut up.”


With that, I slammed my hand against the cold reflective surface of my dressing table mirror, and then lifted a lipstick to draw a smiling face upon my reflection.


Uninvited guests are always the worst kind, no?




Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

(I don’t usually use old posts for my Daily Prompts, however, I guess this poem kind of sums up the one closest friendship I had with someone.
Written for the Daily Post: Daily Prompt – On Bees and Efs: Do you — or did you ever — have a Best Friend? Do you believe in the idea of one person whose friendship matters the most? Tell us a story about your BFF (or lack thereof).)

Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Against the plagued hordes and demonic armies,
I stand strong, grounded;
A battlefield of blood, flesh and tears
Surrounded by their flaming rage,
But you are with me, you have my back.

That’s all I need.

I feel your back warm against mine,
Strong and impenetrable, each muscle tense;
The numbers mean nothing, nothing at all
Because when we unite, two sides of the same coin,
I am undefeated, untouchable and free.

Let us fly together.

I raise my sword, linking heaven’s lightning,
The eyes of my enemies drawing closer;
My battle cry rises like a phoenix flare from my core
The deafening beat of my heart as the battle drum,
Forward and onwards to victory, let us begin.

I am with you.

Before the first blood, my unscathed enemy,
Watch on as I stand paralysed, in shock;
A sword meant for good, my forsaken soul
I see the steel piercing through my chest,
You have betrayed me.


Lying eyes stare back at mine with no answer,
Once a wolf, the sheep flees from the scene;
I fall to my knees, my hands drenched in blood
The enemy advance to the lone standing warrior,
Broken by the only blade that could cut so deep.

Your cowardice becomes a reflection of your true form.

I smile in pain, hope and grief,
Flesh torn from my limbs, an unnoticed pain;
I could not be your salvation, yet your burdened sins
A restful sleep they receive in your depths,
A sea of denial, pride and falsehood.

We shall meet again on the appointed Day, the fated Hour.

The call of a Higher purpose echoes loudly, and divine,
An unfinished story with new chapters to write;
A lesson learned, a hope destroyed and new hope found
I will not become the mirror in which your vanity shines,
For I will see with eyes unblinded by guilt.

My chains are broken.


© Naziyah Mahmood, 2014.