Writing Is My Cure

My Name Is Nishat & I Write To Stay Sane. I Post Everyday At 8PM CST* (Usually)

Dear Body,
I have not always trusted you.
Your muscles have often given up on me, constantly
My bones shake and shatter.
I have gone under three times because of you
I wonder
If you’ll ever truly offer me stability.

Dear Body,
I have not always been confident in you.
You cannot push or pull as well as the other bodies can.
I have never felt right without a shirt on
Because you are not flat where I want you to be and
You protrude where I don’t.

Dear Body,
I am sorry.
I have not love you enough while
You always loved me back.
You have been my protector,
Cradling my heart with your tender hands.
I have mistreated you,
You still forgive me.

Dear Body,
I am sorry.
I am still learning.
I still love you.

Love,
Me.

—   

"Love Letter/Apology To My Body" - Nishat Ahmed

I was part of this body confidence photoshoot yesterday and I had pictures of myself taken writing this poem whilst shirtless (and for those of you that don’t know me well, I am NEVER shirtless in public) but it was really a great moment of realizing that this is MY body, and I need to love it. Guy or girl or whatever, it doesn’t matter, we all have moments where we don’t feel beautiful in our skin, but we are. We are human. We are gorgeous. And we need to remember that.

Anonymous asked: I recently saw your video on youtube and it inspired me. I'm an aspiring author, but I've become unmotivated because of the stress that goes along with college. After watching your video, I was encouraged to start writing again. Thank you for your words and good luck with everything!

No thank you for finding the courage to continue your words. And thank you for sending me this message. It’s moments like these that remind me why every moment of writing is worth it. Bless you, I wish you the best as well!

“You silenced me before I spoke.”

—   "Now We Don’t Talk At All (Six Word Story)" - Nishat Ahmed

Walk me through the darkness
There’s a shipwreck on the cove,
And I’m sinking like stone in this lake.

Your words were a gospel
That made my heartbeat go still, and now
My lungs are both yours to take.

I’m still in love with your face;
When I get lost in that place,
You are the only one that knows
How to calm me when my headaches turn to storms.

Take me to the doctor
My hands tremble in my sleep.
I have visions that I am
Lost out at sea.

Lay me on the table and then
Cut into my skull.
Does my bad luck
Drip out and bleed?

I’m still in love with your face;
When I get lost in that place,
You are the only one that knows
How to calm me when my headaches turn to storms.

—   

"Sailor’s Lament" - Nishat Ahmed

This doubles as lyrics to an acoustic song I wrote.

When I told my mother that I was going from Psych and Pre-med
Into Psychology and Poetry,
She began to worry, (as every mother does)
Wondering “how could my son throw away his future for writing down words?”
And the first question my father asked was
“How would you plan to make a living after that?”
Some of my friends laughed,
Some of my teachers shook their heads
Muttering their eulogies before I was even dead.

But why should it matter what kind of money this brings?
If money had no value, how rich would you be?
We get 75 years or 80 to be rough
With my estimation,
And my declaration is that I don’t want to be 45
Beginning to regret my whole life.

What are your passions?
What do you love?
If money had no value?
What would be your job?
Are you on that path now? If no,

Why not?

Raised in a culture where everyone feels
Pressured to become engineers or doctors,
I am trying to proctor a future where I don’t feel stuck.
If I am not happy with what I do then
What’s the point of all this school? These years I’ve given up?

And what about you? What’s holding you back
From finding the freedom you’ve been lacking?
Is it your father or your mother?
Is it your ‘friends’ or your teachers?

Or is it a step further?
Is it society?
Are you doing it to yourself?
Are you manufacturing your own future hell?

Do not sell yourself short on your dreams and your hopes.
I want to spend my life with the stacks of paper that I create,
Not green bills that I make.
So if money had no value,
What would you chase?

—   

"If Money Had No Value, How Rich Would You Be?" - Nishat Ahmed

To see me (loosely) performing this poem-I think I missed a line?-head right here

sickwithsyllables:

Being able to share my poetry at TEDxUIUC was unbelievable. Never in my life would I have imagined myself up on that stage performing MY OWN WORDS.
You can catch my talk and performance in this video! I highly suggest you watch this whole session though and also watch the 1st and 2nd sessions that were recorded today. Everyone did a phenomenal job and I’m still just in awe to have been given such an amazing opportunity.

The video link has been fixed! Despite being super nervous I think I did it alright, but let me know what you think!

To read the poem go here: [x]

Anonymous asked: Just got around to ordering The Things They Don't Teach You In School :) pretty excited. I really love your works (poetry and music) and I encourage you to never give up your passions. I can personally say you've been quite an inspiration to me both motivationally, and emotionally. Keep doing what you love, because I'm sure it effects others how it effects me; I too am a guy and struggle with similar issues in my life. I will support you throughout your career. Thank you.

Ah you sent this to me a while ago but THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! That humbles me more than you know for you to say that to me. To be able to inspire someone to continue following their passions, that’s all I could hope for. I wish the best for you and your endeavors as well!

If anyone else is looking to purchase The Things They Don’t Teach You In School, click here!

“i haven’t brushed my hair in weeks so tonight my mother sat me down and ran a comb through all the knots
‘honey,’ she said
‘you have to get better at taking care of yourself’
I heard that keeping flowers after they’ve died is bad luck
but they never tell you what to do with the heart that’s rotting in your chest
the smell is starting to alarm the neighbors
something must be done
I drink more white wine than water
but I’ve started to look at my veins without wondering what they would look like split open
and I think that’s what the shrink calls progress
my sister gave me a stuffed animal of my greatest fear as a joke and I sleep with it every night
I welcome monsters into my bed and set a place for them at breakfast the next morning,
leave sugar out for their coffee
goddamn I’ve always been so good at loving monsters
I wish the pictures on my wall could talk
that girl looks so happy
speak to me, speak to me, the night is so quiet
when I was 15 I went to school with a swollen lip that bled against my braces
my teeth were straight a year after that but they never forgot the taste of blood
the last boy I kissed meant nothing to me but the last one in my bed is haunting me
I threw out the shirt I was wearing when I first met you even though it was my father’s
and any coffee mugs your lips touched are cracked in my trash
the last time I talked to you I said I want to be the one you love best and you cried
I’m too fucking sentimental, these poems are getting me nowhere
how many pens have met their end while I’ve tried to explain this
how many notebooks have been destroyed while I try to get this out of my fucking head
I wallpaper my room with my efforts and swallow the fragments
they glitter like crystal and scrape my throat the whole way down and still,
I haven’t figured it out
how do I get this out of my head
how do I get you out of my head
why do I drink more wine than water”

—   Fortesa Latifi - Wine and Water (via madgirlf)

(via madgirlf)

“Some people are just tiny
Little pin pricks in the backs of our minds
And other
A hand grenade the size of our fist
Leaving bits and pieces of
Our love plastered all over the insides of our skulls.
I can fake like
The taste of you against my lips didn’t fuck me up
But we all know I’m not brave enough.
Last night was the last time you’ll probably ever be in my bed.
You’ve never laid so close to me before
And I’ve never felt quite so alone.
We used to talk like we’d get married,
Now on birthdays we’ll wish the other were buried.”

—   

Heart And Hate Have A One Letter Difference” - Nishat Ahmed

I might come back to expand this later.

“I love(d) you like a hurricane.”

—   "Why You Are Wrecked (Six Word Story)" - Nishat Ahmed