If You Are So Keen On Hating Me,

I need Ghibli therapy where some utter magic nonsense happens to me and it’s all very weird but there’s some nice people and when it’s over I come out of it a more complete person

Slipping time is looking down at you. Its favourite incarnation, and it's thinking: has it forgotten us? Has it, forgotten itself?

Time is worried, how the little incarnation with such fascinating drive is no longer moving. You are still as if time is still

The pain is like a sedative/ that kills me; makes me cry—and puts me to sleep/

-excerpt from my book💋💕

There is nothing more excruciating then giving up. You don't want good or bad. You just go on. You're a dead fish flowing with the stream of water, except you're not dead- you're alive. And human.

God gave me royalty to be at ease yet it's the thing I hate the most about me. He gave me good things to be grateful for but I hate them all. This is because there is something rotting within me. It was all assigned to the wrong person. I cannot be normal. "I feel scared Yusuf. I'm scared of you. Whenever you kiss my feet I remember how I was treated in the palace. You dont treat me like the servants used to. Why don't you treat me like the servants used to? Why don't you treat me like a slave? I am carrying every bad thing that has ever happened to me on my back like a sack of stones over my shoulder wherever I go. It digs into my neck and causes a rash that burns. Initially, I thought maybe I felt special. After all, I am a princess. I thought that's what separates me from the crowd. But when people flash a smile I feel offended. I hate it, Yusuf. I hate when people smile and compliment me. I hate anything lavish. I desperately need gold that is fake. I need to be clad in simple cotton kurtas. I hate the colour red. This is what I try to explain to you everyday! In the bazaar, you pitied me for the common stones on the rings occupying my fingers. I explained it to you then. After it all, you say I do not deserve the frail mattresses. What is that you mean? Are you trying to take revenge on me?! Though our hatred for my father is mutual, after all I am his daughter. How am I supposed to believe you do not wish to sabotage me when you threaten to put me in the same position I barely crawled out of? Do you even know? I hate the purple silk sheets and the grandiose bed chamber. When I lie on my back, I still do not get adequate rest because the light of the moon is caught by the very real diamonds stuck to the top edges of the chamber. It glints and reflects onto my eyes. It is blinding. I hate them, too. The royal stones remind me of the rotten marrow swimming in my bones. I hate when I look into the mirror and I look pretty."

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

If this pain chooses not to leave me

I hope I end my life

I hope I don't force myself to live through it all with the false hope that I will find peace and love and dreams coming true

I hope I can give myself the privilege of death and not force myself to live for others

Oh my goddd im in my teenage depression phase 😦

Can u guys start putting insanely good books and photoshopping my name on it (hana malik) so together we can create awareness about me as an author (haven't even written my first book)

Help a girl out I'll give u a cookie

And pls gimme more ideas

"He wraps my fingers around the knife.

he's so close.

The only barrier between us is this pointed silver weapon.

He whispers softly, inches away from my lips— "Kill or kiss."

He moves even more forward, if that is possible. His breathy words are hush of air on my lips "-the choice is yours."

My heart is hammering in my chest. His eyes hold mine captive, not leaving for a second.

He stares at me, so desperate—

I press the tip of the knife into his throat.

My shadow casts over him as his knees grow weaker, eventually sitting him on top of the bed. Thighs find themselves on either side of him.

Blood trickles where I've pressed the knife.

My lips brush his and I feel the electricity dominating his nerves. I do not flinch when I speak.

"Why not both?"

—Hana Malik

Would you read? Written when I was 12 so I'm considering dropping it.