Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 13

The poise of heartbreak

Dearest,

I feel The grief.The pain that drifts your soul
into the cliff of misery.The outburst of darkness,
the kinds that sweep you
to a sea of drowning. 
A sea where breath is not given,
but taken. I stood by your side
Et I watched you jump.I wept inside for my tears
couldn’t find it to my heart. 

My heart did beat,
for it’s how we live,
but my soul was mortified by your gone.

 

I cannot recover, dreary world. I cannot even feel the light in the skies, the warmth of his love has left my will to survive.

His death was my end.
But if you will send me a knight in his shining armor, with a heart full of love Et light. Maybe you should save me , for a while longer.

Love leaves you only breathing,

   Emeline Benoit

ps. This is what I have become. And the world thinks  writing books is a beautiful thing. It’s a beautiful tormented sin.

hallo  world, oh I missed you. But at the moment, I Am shaken Et lost in her pain.

#thewriteriambecoming

Mount Severest

 

 

      World,

I am utterly amped up, on a mission. Like James Bond. Except he was braver, much more dangerous, better looking, wow better looking. We are probably loathe equally though, non?

But yah I am on a mission. Don’t know what it is, but it’s one. Hence, I felt like I haven’t seen daylight in weeks. That’s my work load. Intense. Hence, I still try to spend, 30 minutes a day, reading my emails Et dms. Oui I do. I try to be personable. Golly that’s like hiking up bloddy mount severest. Not Everest. SEverest. I made that up. You like?

So I am exhausted. Oh golly, I act like I am being paid six figures to work this much. Truth is it’s my passion that drives me up mount Severest

I live to write. I cannot lie. Everything else I am so over. I swear, I need a Caldecott. Or a masseuse. I honestly need to spend my weekends without my work. I imagine, I would not  know how to exist. I know it sounds terrible, but can I tell you a secret?

I am running from everything. I am. I really am, so to hell with the Caldecott, I need sneakers

I am sorry to be so honest. I find lately adding Kate to my books made me hide in my bluntness. I write so honestly that it’s a tad different. Anyways, I thank you so much for the letters. I am working hard as heck. So I can have the most enormous resume ever.
Because 99.6 percent of the world annoys me. And the the extra 4 percent had broken me.
I wish you happy in your mount Severest. And world, my heart breaks for the people of Ukraine.

        Bloddy Hell. Mr President, sir  what the enormous F are you doing?

There are so many children with tears, without homes Et mostly without fathers. I swear to you, this world has failed the little hearts.

   I stand without words, for the  love of humanity is senseless.yours,Rianna Kate Shaikh

Non Rianna Shaikh, you didn’t!

 

 

Dearest,

my first publication for the year. I know. And she’s brave to be cocktailing with a last name like that

don’t care. Let’s all adjust to my new ruthlessness. Today I had too much to do. Et I had to look pretty, dear lord, thank you for the miracle.

 

There is only so much a writer can do in a day. I need sweatpants. Chocolats Et tea. Please. No. Calls. Til 23.

j’adore toi,

Rianna K Shaikh

 

Breathe Et continue madame

        Dearest world,

What a piece non?
Truth is my kind is very different from my mind. Work is what I choose to do 24 hours a day. On repeat. For my darlings, my dear darlings,

being a writer is like holding a bag of hearts Et writing each one as they present their own immensity to you.

Should  I focus on the out, the noise, the offensive blather?

Or should I write?

That’s your question, what exactly are you fighting for in your one life?Et dearest is it worth it?
I am always devoted to goodness Et kindness. Never the opposite.After I am done with this book, I would attend to the rabbit I was up since 3 am, I know, the devotion. Till now Et this came abouts. I was ever so invested in Snows story.
Oui. Et the huntsmen.
Some actually have hearts.It’s exciting to think, that we all have hearts, and 91 percent of us, never use it. That’s a abcdef shame.  Whatevers.back to work,

Rianna Kate Shaikh 

Rabbit:
“Mrs Shaikh that song is
so offensive, are you sure you
want to add?”

me: “yah, so sure.
The opera is over. To much
kindness is killing me.let’s punish them with lyrics
monsieur Rabbit.” ( putting down my pen)

In time

 

 

 

 

    Dearest time,When I was little I use to want to grow up Et become a young lady. So I could do things. Hold my head to a certain high Et wear heels.

I know the heels part stole my smile. I wanted to wear pencil skirts Et big hats, and work In the city so big, a building so high that I sat at my glass windows and it was actually glass walls. I wanted black glasses, and pink lips. So I could be so important.
I suppose like my father.

He was too important to present. I forgive you important father.

I wanted to be a boss. One that everyone admired Et wanted to be like. A absolute mess of dream when you are little non?

I think I am the actual opposite of what I dreamt of being. Absolutely so. I live away from the traveling world, had tossed the apron on entertaining, I literally don’t spend much time, out there in the world, I am much happiest sitting in my writing quarters listening to the classics that bore so many Et I scribble hearts away.
I am not a wordly person. I find the travelers of the world to be brave Et solemnly dauntless. I couldn’t at this point of my life. I prefer siting in the glass house, not being hinged by the world.

A different feeling though, I’m. Not. Yet. 80.
I also know that as you grow Et become dreams feel different.
I don’t have many to be honest. I get asked by readers, what are my dreams.

I think I lived them in my 20’s, Et I  was rather most unhappiest then. Having it all is quietly a perception we think. I guarantee you when you finally get what you dreamt off, it’s not at all what you pictured.
Probably not close. I wanted my Victorian bath for so long, it’s sitting in a box and I dare not open it. I wanted it in most of my homes. I thought of having it, my husband always said, it’s so small and ancient, yah. I am bloddy the queen of archaism.

Morale is, time changes everyone, and what you wanted at 29 would not be the same thing you seek at 79. Or like me, in between. We become different as the hands of time bustle forth. I suppose the trick is knowing it’s happening Et living in the moment of who you are now Et not the little you, you were once upon a tale.
Though it’s most mandatory that you remember that and hold on to what you dreamt of. As one day, as the day i am in,

you’ll remember that moment Et you’ll smile putting it away. As I do in books. I am so pleased to be that person. Though sometimes, I’ll whisper this,“I have to hide from the world, to be okay. It gets messy out there. It’s part of this writer thing, I am, i suppose.”

I’m filled gratitude for you all,

Merci my dear friends. For reading me.

    Your writer,Rianna Kate Shaikh

Portrait mode

 

 

 

 

 

 

      My dearest you,

Seriously this woman cannot smile in portraits. I have no advice to give. Except if you smile to much, you get wrinkles. Yup. This is it for today.
I am to take 5 portraits, good luck getting me out of ripped jeans and my sailors sweater. I actually came out out my car this am and my husband was patiently waiting in driveway. I have this affect on him

lHe looked at my torn jeans Et said,

“What are you wearing – like ripped jeans?”

“I was like yah why am I looking like a Saturday hoodlum sailor?”

Oh bother. I am down to earth on Saturdays. My new trend. I think I’ll wear sweat pants next Saturday. Welcome to humility. Oh if your response was negative, you should see my post on instagram. It’s

Saturday wicked  y’all!
Stay awoke. Awakened. Milly said I completely embarrassed her with that woke line.
Haha. I hope all your friends are reading your maman’s diary Gee English today is not trending.

Neither am I world.

   Au revoir,Rianna Kate Shaikh

 

The road block

 

 

        Dearest,

I was sitting at my desk, sipping tea Et eating chocolats. Then I thought of this as I was writing my new book. By the way, my next book is bloddy fou!

Hence this bath thing was brilliant. It’s real. It’s true. And it had to be heard.
Also I told my husband I am going to France. And what do you know, I am getting my very own Victorian tub. Exactly, I am so good at this

( I hope he isn’t reading this)!

Back to my tale,

My papa use to say, “when you betray my trust, you are Gone. As in, all right sides.”

My papa was the greatest. In my heart, he is still. I think of my life lessons Et I scramble to put good thoughts on people that would seek my affection to only betray it. Don’t do that to anyone, especially if their heart is purer than gold.

See money makes a real devil out of men. I hope that shan’t be you. It’s a shame, I was beginning to really, thoughtfully Et truthfully like you. So much for that thought (sarcastic)!

Of  course that’s random.

I am a storyteller non?

But whatever you do, whatever it is in life you choose to do, do it well Et with full heart. I promise you in the end, you’ll be able to look in that mirror and like papa use to say, sleep well at nights.

I j’adore you my dearest papa.
Like forever.  Yours, 

Rianna Kate Shaikh 
ps. Nothing, I got nothing.

     Thank you Fabrzio,
gee I was listening to Kanye
west while you were gone. I know,
it was a tad awkward.

Her hands

 

      Dearest,     The note.

It was day when she fell, into a dark path of never ending relentless sadness. She held her hands with a note that was left, for her to open at the moment of her great awakening.
He had vowed her his hands, his life, his everlasting love. The kinds we all hope that we to shall one day be called to feel. Not the normals that say I do, then Marry, have ten children and run a farm.
Obviously that would be better. I suppose from a writers perspective …. Back to her story….

 She ran…

She ran down the stairs on the sand. Almost breathless. Her heart felt pained with remorse, for the night before she told him, he was worthless. He was not refined a man Et he didn’t know anything about keeping a vow more or less love. But today it was different. Her heart felt words that never made it to her mouth to his ear. She never had the chance to dance that song in her white dress. She never had the chance to say i do and live to regret it.

She only had regrets. As Michael  Bolton once sang,“how am I suppose to live without you.”

She stood on the sand, fallen to her knees, as the waves rushed to console her, but to let her know, all is lost. Washed away to another world.  She begged that it wasn’t so, that letter wasn’t goodbye. It wasn’t like a silly romantic of movies, the kinds that loose their end at the very middle. Opening the letter, her tears fell Et it read…

Becca, I couldn’t let you know this earlier but for so long I tried to fight this battle. I found light that grew brighter then darker then it was almost impossible to live without you. Then it was suddenly impossible to live. I don’t want you to die reading this, because it meant I did for you are reading this. I will love you till I am no longer here. I cannot give you words to explain my sorrow. But I had sorrows. I kept them until like a reservoir it caved in and drowned me. I love you and the kids,  the children I wanted to have with you. But now  all i leave you is my heart, my whole heart because you will need it.

 

     I was your forever,          B noble Her tears were without purpose because no matter how she read that note. She died a thousand moments in that one second. I stood back waves away from her, my toes In sand, and I silently as a person felt so numb, my ink erased.  I walked away as I know the face of our not so dear, lady grief. Hence, she can take  a whole many hearts and all the light the world hath seen,  in a human second.It can also simply take a few wings to help you go on.

As love, my dearest is the most unendurable thing our hearts can bare,  not hate, that’s the easy road.

     Your writer,Rianna Kate ShaikhPs. For the grieved.

Remember Charlie Roth?

 

 

My dearest,

Do you remember  my Charlie Roth? Well I tried to recoup all of my old characters Et follow up on the stories of them. So this here I uploaded on my stories.
I swear to you i have no idea how I have so much bloddy work. But I do, see Simon Et Schuster well let’s not throw lampshades. It’s 2am. Golly I should sleep.
Can we get back to this tomorrow, i vow to tell you all abouts  him.

 

bisou,

Rianna Kate Shaikh 

The Wall Street wife

 

 

        My dearest,

N0vel3. Fin. Done. I have no words. But I had to share. This novel shall be either the best I have written or the most tragic. But I am beginning to think i was made to pen tragic Et broken.
For the rest, there’s something called,

   Mastercard. That’s not funny.

Bonsoir,

Rianna Kate Shaikh