A little message

So I haven’t posted on my blog for what was years up until recently.

Why you may ask ?

Because I felt the need to express again.

When I started this blog originally it was because I was going through a tough time in school.I was honest to myself in a group of girls that couldn’t be honest to themselves.

I understood what they were going through.But that doesn’t mean that I always found it easy to forgive their actions or sly comments or nasty rumours that hit harder than I could take them sometimes.

As much as I despised them at that point in my life, I always sympathised with them. After every disappointment that a friend would bring , I would always stop myself and analyse what I had done. That’s when I realised that I wasn’t really at fault.

We were a bunch of insecure girls , some more than others and it manifested in many ways. For some , the way to hide their insecurities and deal with them , was attack others before they could attack you.

This approach was taken in many ways , some expressed it physically and others verbally. The verbal ones were split into two , some would tear girls apart then and there. Whilst others did it more subtly with backhanded whispers and dirty smug looks. Those were the worst. We think we know who are enemies are but we don’t because some hide behind a smile and a mask of friendship.

You know what I mean, that friend who you trusted and talked to and at some point you considered them your best friend. Then randomly something goes wrong. They stop talking to you and it hurts especially when you don’t know what you did. So you sit like awkward strangers at dinner tables. Sometimes you get the courage and ask them what happened and if you did something wrong. But all you receive is an indifferent smile and “what are you on about ? We are absolutely fine”.

You know that they are lying but what can you do ? You can’t force them. But truth reveals itself one way or another because then you see them with new friends. That’s when you realise that there wasn’t anything really wrong with you , it’s just that you were temporary. Just someone to sit next to till they found someone better , someone more popular. Then whenever they get tired or mistreated or feel left out or fall out with those new friends, they come back and pretend everything was fine.

High school was hard and probably harder for me when so many people wanted to see me in one way. Their way. Actually let me clarify , the way that one particular person who disliked me for something pathetic such as asking questions because it’s not cool to be actually interested in what you are learning and want to know more. So they decide I’m annoying , which means that now everybody thinks I’m annoying right ? I have heard people I have never met or people I have never really spoken to hate me on the strangest of things. It was hard for me , it would have been hard for anyone so it was understandable when I had bursts of anger , retorting to the people who bullied me . Wow that’s a big achievement for me , I don’t think I ever wanted to admit that, I didn’t want to label it as bullying . I guess I didn’t want that sympathy , or to admit that it hurt because in my mind bullying happened to scrawny 13 y/o’s who play video games and get beat up after school. Super weird right I think it came from all those anti bullying videos that had been fed to me since primary and they always had this stereotype of the person that got bullied and I never fit into it. But bullying includes spreading rumours , attacking someone physically or verbally and excluding someone from a group on purpose. Safe to say that I experienced that. High school wasn’t completely bad though, I shared some happy times with people before they changed. Soon high school came to an end and it was the last day of school and with a hall and then a yard filled with emotional girls , I seemed like one of the few who were genuinely happy to leave. I remember my English teacher coming over to me as I watched the girls around me cry and she asked me,

“Aw Shaza are you sad to leave too ?”

“No, miss , I have been waiting for this day.”

“Now I bet you are going to wait till you get home and cry aren’t you ?”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

Needless to say , I didn’t cry, I didn’t have anything to miss. The only thing I missed about high school was the homework which compared to the amount I received in college was laughable. I would gladly do a page of bullet points on how Hitler started World War II than write a 5000 word essay on the French Revolution.

I had applied to three colleges , when in reality I only wanted to get accepted into one. However, the one I wanted was renowned for being picky on who it accepted and refused many people. It demanded a solid personal statement but I was desperate and so a miracle happened and I managed to get accepted. This was a relief as I specifically chose this college as I knew that practically no one I knew was going to attend it.It would be the closest thing I would have to a new start and plus it was the closest. Still a few people that I disliked attended it but we had separate timetables and classes and we acted indifferent to each other when we passed each other.I wasn’t the only one who hoped for a new better start at college. I’m sure many girls wanted a better start college too , especially the girls who didn’t have the courage in high school to leave the toxic people that they hung out with or stand up and say their real opinion to them because then they would have no one to sit with. Fake friends were better than no friends right ?

Anyway, college was amazing for me. I met some wonderful people and got along with many people. I was considered fairly popular in my classes , where everyone felt comfortable to talk to me and laugh and joke about with me. It was easy to make new friends and surprisingly no one was fake. They were all genuinely nice and wanted nothing from me other than to do lovely things together.We became one huge group of friends who took up more than one table and laid it with snacks and we sat and made jokes and watched funny videos. It was a big friendship group purely because they were all so lovely and it stayed big because they weren’t fake , no one said mean things behind each other or discreetly hated each other. On the rare occasions that a problem occurred it was solved almost instantly and in the most mature way. I had so many pleasant memories ranging from lovely walks in the park to trying out ice cream parlours to watching the latest movies together. It was so new to have friends who actually cared for you , who you would stay up and talk to , who called you when you were upset and went out with you to lift your mood. It was lovely. It made me realise that I wasn’t the problem.

Sometimes , I think they  thought it was acceptable to carry on taking the mick because it was me. It was Shaza who usually would laugh or would ignore your comments or more commonly would sarcastically reply. She could take it right ? I always thought about those people and what they could be going through that made them act this way , but I realised that no one ever did they for me. When the one person would say something nasty , they think nothing of it. What they don’t realise is that I have just had a day full of them.

Well to end this on a lighter tone , I had an amazing year blessed with amazing people and I grew so much. Now , I don’t t look back with hate or anger, I look back in pity.

You might wonder what this has to do with my sudden posts about my new story. Well, like I said I grew. I realised its important to do things that you love and I love writing stories and thinking of poems.

I decided to keep most of the things I had written on my blog ( except a few that were super duper cringey). I guess it’s because I want my blog to show my growth. You know , from where I started and to where I will go.

Shaza x



October 12th/ 2016

The day after Oliver’s 17th birthday.

Resting his back on the lamppost, Oliver began tapping his feet. First on the pavement than on the lamp post itself. He was finally going to be able to drive. A few cars passed him, and he took pleasure in thinking that soon it would be him behind the wheel. His tapping increased in speed. As if sensing his impatience, a white Peugeot with a violently bright yellow sign began making its way towards him.

‘Mather’s driving school’.

The car stopped in front of him. Whilst Oliver and the instructor traded seats, his instructor began to introduce himself.

“Hi, my name is Pete Mathers and I’m your driving instructor.”

“Cool, mine’s Oliver,”

“Oliver Young.” He added.

“Well Oliver, we are going to start with the basic drills.”

After a lengthy discussion, Oliver started the engine. With only a few moments on the road, his confidence began to fade. He became increasingly aware of the other drivers present in his lane. He cautiously dropped his speed. Driving was now a little scarier than Oliver thought. Tapping his fingers on the wheel, Oliver’s eyes flitted between the mirrors. Front, side, windscreen, front, side and back to the windscreen again. A continuous circle.

Biting his lips, Oliver watched the cars go past him with ease. They would switch lanes seamlessly, go faster than him yet with care and an observant eye on the cameras, they would exit lanes and park better than him. In conclusion, they were better.

Oliver began to wonder why he thought he could drive a car. This was harder than he ever anticipated. Oliver had started to regret booking the lesson until Pete intervened-

“Take a left and carry on straight,” motioned Pete, pointing to the nearest exit, Oliver nodded.

“Turn right just here,” said Pete

This had taken them into a rather quiet neighbourhood. One where cars were parked like tokens of stature and leafy trees guarded the area. There was silence on the road, it was only them, two single souls navigating through the neighbourhood.

“One, two, three,” Oliver breathed in, silently counting

“One, two, three,” and out.

“This place seems disturbingly quiet.” This thought interrupted his cycle of breathing as he took a glance at his surroundings.

He was grateful for the change in environment. He had begun to feel claustrophobic on the more frequented roads, constantly feeling that cars were close to him. Dangerously close. Metres became millimetres in Oliver’s eyes and the cars seemed to be edging relentlessly closer and closer still. Oliver welcomed the exchange from the busy roads to the barren streets of the neighbourhood.

“Just follow the street and at the bottom turn left,” Said Pete with tight lips. These were matched with a curious brow. Such silence was strange.

“Do you understand?”

Oliver simply nodded once more, concentrating on the street ahead.

“One, two, three, four,” Oliver added an extra number elongating his breath as he eased his back a little into the chair.

“One, two, three, fou-“

“I can drive! I’m driving, I think I’m getting better?” and as if Pete read his thoughts, he flashed him a smile.

“Well done, you are getting much better!” Pete encouraged him.

“Thanks.” Oliver replied shyly, forgetting to count.

“One, two, three, four, five” Oliver counted, allowing himself the luxury to breath a little longer.

Though Oliver had retreated into silence once again, his confidence began to rise. This made Pete comfortable enough to suggest heading back to the main road. Oliver, perfectly aware that he would have to face it sooner or later, nodded in agreement. With a U-turn, they began to leave the quiet little neighbourhood, Oliver’s driving paradise.

“The speed limit is 30mph,” Said Pete, eyeing the speed dial flickering between 25 and 26 mph.

“Going too slow can cause accidents, it’s just as bad as going too fast.” He warned. Pete’s sentence echoed in Oliver’s mind,

“Going too slow can cause accidents.”

“Too slow can cause accidents.”

“Slow can cause accidents.”

“Can cause accidents.”

“Cause accidents.”

“Accidents.” The word ricocheted in his mind.

“Accidents.” Oliver reiterated silently as he stole a glance at Pete, confirming that he wore his seatbelt.

“One, two, three, four,” Oliver started to draw shorter breaths.

“Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents,” He checked his side mirror, checking the black Sedan that seemed inches from the car. Oliver straightened his back and kept a watchful eye on the Sedan.

“One, two, three.”

It took a minute for the Sedan to overtake them, allowing Oliver to let out a sigh of relief.

“Some people will overtake us but that’s fine” commented Pete contently; as he saw the hand of the speed dial rested on 28mph.

“Accidents. Accidents. Accidents.”

Muffled thoughts and speeding cars marked the end of their session.

“You can drive yourself back home and then I can take it from there.” Said Pete. Uncomfortable as he was, Oliver agreed, it would take energy to disagree; energy that he didn’t have.

“One, two, three,” Oliver carried on taking calculated breaths.

“One, two three,”

“One, two,” A Ford focus had come too close, nearly clipping the side mirror causing Pete to mumble something indiscernible. Oliver checked his side mirror.

“Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents. Accidents.” The word got louder in his head. Booming.

“One, two,”

“One, tw-“ Oliver swerved, with the smell of burning rubber cramming his lungs, he jerked forward.

She had come from nowhere and no one saw her coming

A young woman had run across the road. Believing herself to be faster and more invincible than a 3.5-ton chunk of metal going at a considerable speed, she ran across the road.

Oliver had his seatbelt strapped to his chest tightly, the blood drained from his face as he looked paler than alabaster marble. Fortune was on his side as the woman was left unharmed. She sheepishly held out her hand; a meek gesture of apology as she ran from the scene and vanished just as suddenly as she appeared. Pete yelled out a curse whilst Oliver was still strapped to his seat with his hands frozen on the wheel, immobilised.

“Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accident. Accide-“ Blaring horns distracted him enough to notice Pete’s hand gripping his arm.

“Oliver!” exclaimed Pete “Oliver, it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t see her coming either.” receiving no response he carried on.

“No one got injured and that’s all that matters. I can take it from here whilst you rest.”

“I can take it from here,”

“I can take it from here,” repeated Oliver in his mind

“He can take it forever!” He turned to face Pete.

“I can walk home, it’s fine.” Awaiting no reply, Oliver jumped out of the car and hurried on to the pavement.

“I could’ve killed her if I wasn’t driving a little slower”

“I could’ve killed her”

“Murderer.” Accused a voice

“I am not a murderer; the car didn’t even touch her!” Oliver defended himself out loud as the one voice became thousands of utterings.

“Murderer.” “Murderer.”   “Murderer.”


“Murderer.”  “Murderer.”

“I could’ve been responsible for her death!” reflected Oliver

“Car.” “Girl.” “Death.” “Girl”

“Murderer.” “Car.”

“Responsible.” “Murderer.”

“Car.” “Death.” “Girl.”

Responsible” “Death.”


Oliver mumbled to himself.

“I could have been responsible for the death of the girl, had I hit her with my car. I could have been a murderer.” With tapping feet and shaking hands Oliver reluctantly took out his keys, he had reached home.


She led them towards the guest room, with only a single chair in the room, her parents sat on the bed alongside their bags.

“I’m sorry but I haven’t had much of a chance to clean properly .If there’s anything you need please tell me,”

Flona paused, her hands on the handle, she turned

“… I will be in the kitchen if you need me.”And with that, she began her hunt for the cold and flu sachet.

With the door closed, her parents began to talk;

Lily says she hasn’t seen her in months, Alexander!”said Rosanna. “In fact, I don’t think anyone has.”

“At least she has Peri though.”

“You’re right, at least she can always talk to her cat.”

“I mean,” she carried on “thank god for Peri.”

“No, Rosanna you know what I meant, some form of companionship other than her paperbacks is better than none.”

“But it’s not good enough, she needs to be balanced again, back then everything was perfect and now-”

“See that’s your problem, Rosanna,” Alexander was on his feet now. “The fact that after all that’s happened that you still think everything was fine before!”

“It never was, we were just blinded by our pride and refused to see beyond what our family was, we wanted a perfect family, so we saw a perfect family,” Alexander reached for the door.

“I was wrong, we both were.”

“Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves,” quoted Alexander,

“and for that, I would much rather be a humble man.”

Those words itched and with that, Rosanna was abandoned.

Alexander made his way to the kitchen, entertained by the sight of the wrinkles appearing at the bridge of Flona’s nose, he interrupted-

“You seem to be enjoying that sachet”

“You know, I think I’m more than capable of breathing from one side of my nose,” Flona mumbled as she poured the rest of her drink down the sink.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have caught a cold if you didn’t live on the balcony, you’re out there no matter what the weather!”

“What’s the point of having a balcony if you don’t use it?”

Flona went on to reassure him,

“and besides I’m fine Dad it’s only a cold, nothing serious see,” She turned around, giving him a huge smile to confirm her point. Alexander couldn’t help but smile back, but a tingling sensation began to creep through his body, infiltration. Flona had noticed his flushed cheeks and Alexander graciously accepted her offer when she took out a chair for him.

“are you alright Dad?”

“Yes…” Alexander paused,

“I’m good,”

“I think it’s about time you stopped talking about my health and started talking about yours,”

“How have you been?” Flona continued,

“Was the journey here tiring? would you like me to make you a drink?”

“Calm down Flona, I’m not that old that an hour’s journey on the tram has shaken me.” Answered Alexander.

“Then what has?”

Alexander’s stayed silent and then after the hand had ticked a couple of times on the clock behind him his eyes drifted towards the oven. Flona didn’t want to hear the answer, she already knew. A familiar ring echoed through the apartment, the oven timer. She hurried, armed with oven mittens, she delivered a beautiful golden carrot cake.

“I will have a drink with that though” replied her Dad, straightening up. That’s what she liked to hear ,Flona’s smiled .Her Dad loved carrot cake. So out came the piping bag, and within minutes vanilla buttercream and pecans decorated the cake. With three slices of cake cut and three cups of tea laid out on the table, Flona got up once more.

“I’m going to get Mum,” Flona said and soon there were three occupied chairs in the kitchen.

As if sensing, Peri woke up, outstretched and narrow-eyed he made his way towards Flona. He looked bitter as if he didn’t believe that they were eating without him and with a purr he circled her feet.

“Oh Peri!” sighed Flona, she got up.

It was half two in the afternoon, and the only thing breaking the uncomfortable silence was Peri, outwardly enjoying his tuna.


Lightning and thunder.

The rain would soon follow them, seeping into the minds of men, soothing their uneasiness just before they hastily propped their umbrellas. Shields. They would take longer strides than normal, making their way to the station to be hugged by the humdrum of life as the sky above ceased to distract them.

The screeching of the tram in the distance seemed to startle her, and Flona’s grip softened on the pages of the book her fingers were clasped on moments before. The book was shut – abruptly.

Flona had been wrapped up in the pages of her book, wrapped up in another world, until the real one came screeching to a halt. Sitting on the balcony that overlooked the tram station, she remembered what she was supposed to do today. The biscuits tumbled off the table, her tea jerking in its cup. “Oh no.” She grabbed her coat. “No no no no no!”

The front door slammed.

Her boots smacked the ground, and she lifted her hood as the rain began to pour. The tram had already arrived fifteen minutes ago. She was late.

Her phone vibrated once, then twice, as she took a shortcut where spray cans littered the path and walls were etched with scrawls of ever-changing teenage affection. Greeted by the coloured screens of updating timetables, Flona made her way to gate four. The seats were unoccupied, and the only thing that was present was the glowing LED lights. Flona reached for her phone.

“sorry honey, the tram is going to be a little late, I love you” – Mum (sent 3 minutes ago)

“Tram’s a bit late don’t worry about us, see you soon, love you” – Dad (sent 2 minutes ago)

Flona’s breath retreated and a huge sigh of relief followed. The last thing she wanted would be to have drenched and slightly disgruntled parents. She lifted her hood that was beginning to slip.

Their visits turned from a semi-annual event to monthly surprises; she was often only given a day’s notice before their arrival.

“The doors are now open,” the announcement echoed. “Please mind the gap.”

Sniffling, Flona made her way to where her parents stood. Before a word could be exchanged, her mother’s arms surrounded her.

“Good afternoon, Flona,” said her dad.

“Good afternoon, Dad,” Flona said, spluttering the last word as she struggled in the tight embrace of her mother.

Bemused by his wife, he used this chance to carry on. “I missed you so much, darling.”

“We both did,” her mother added, glancing at Flona who staggered backward.

“I missed you both as well.. But you act like you haven’t seen me for such a long time when it’s it’s only been three weeks.”

“Well, three weeks is a long time for us,” her dad replied.

With a shadow of a smile, Flona pulled her hood up once more as her parents opened their umbrellas. They stepped into the blur of the station, clouded figures in the rain.

Used tissues filled her pockets,, and a pinched–red nose marked her face, but at least Flona’s lilac scarf matched her coat.

“I like your scarf. Where. Where did you get it?” asked her mother..

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

“You can knit? Since when?”

“I started about about five months ago,,” she said, taking out her keys.

The door swung open to reveal a rather spacious apartment and an aging cat, sleeping.


She was curled among the grass roots surrounded by the overgrown nettles. Untamed .
Her hair matches the faded colour of the

pile of dried wheat as it was ripped from the earth ; left to starve .
She was vulnerable
The wind petted her back soothingly as it passed: it acknowledged that the only moisture that the plants would receive will be her tears in abundance .

The bluebells were bereft of life and its colour resembled the bruises that the girls fingers had left in her arm .Her fingers, wet with with tears. She had began to rock herself gently , barely raising her head from the ground .She listened with her mood somber as the floods of grievances overwhelmed her .The hair on her arms had began to stand .
Her shuddering turned to shaking and to spasms. Emotional convulsions as she clutched at her chest.
In the midst of this, the debris on her head once was a collection of well kept golden threads . Her hair had gotten gradually darker as the wind returned but this time it belonged to the monsoon.
It came.
It came rowdy and uncivilised.It came enraged and savage . It’s clouds pelted the rain as it banged on house roofs and clawed at windows. The plants were the only thing that nourished in this revolution.

She wore the rain well .

The girl stood up and the thunder cackled whilst he light in flashes the sky like a warning signal. The girl had began to walk-she was coming .
The lightning’s reflection was in her eyes and the thunder rippling through her body.

She began to run


Short story ❤️


‘He runs and runs and never stops continuing for eternity-

near breaks and stumbles but promises that will not break keep him on his search for a remedy – 

the bonds that will be broken – 

the sacrifices chosen carelessly so the shadows will keep on chasing him so he stays running for eternity.’

– Shaza

Strange poem strange mood 


“In more contact with our ego than our individuality”-Shaza

We need to raise our self esteem by realising we were always beautiful .From there on we can focus on the important things like creativity