Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 17

For When you fall

 

      Dearest,The day will come when you shall fall. You should think of it now. For when that moment comes, it should be like a knock on your door, deliberate in its intentions.
Except that day you should not expect.
You should feel broken like a 19th century teacup that was used in the gardens of the Rosecliff, sipping tea with the heiress Theresa Alice “Tessie” Fair. I imagined her life was a gift that had its intentions that tore her heart to oceans apart.  The price of gardened privilege I suppose.
When I fell, I vowed to not look out into the solemn, weary world. So I held my own tears Et my pout Et I began a rage of writing. Truth is my mind didn’t let me
rationalize the Empty feeling
of existence. 
But darlings we are all lost.
Some in the past, most intoxicated by the present, a lot lost in what their forever never could be.me?
why if I were lost could  I have spoken to you through my own pen?never. I am not lost, simply reflecting on my journey, for I must stand amidst all the creatures I am not fond of Et I must hold my heart like I don’t feel. But then my words travel many empty endless miles to get to my heart, to my hands,  to then, my torn up vintage linen Paper,To you. For it is you that hath made me, the writer I am,the writer I am softly becoming. Yet I fear that the time will come when they my books shall be read by the world. The big sad troubling world.And yes, you to shall fall.Et when you do, don’t fight to
saddle up,
get back on your horse, holding
your reins, heels down Et chin up.For darlings tomorrow could 🐝 better. 

And we all live to be better.
For better is golden. 

Oui, it is.Your writer,RSPs. I fear that
I loathe reading As of late.I am now 200 pages behind. Oops.
Hastag not focused 

🥴

Publication for December

Dearest,I Am up late working on my last publication for this year.
You could say I have out did my creativeness.
But I did vow a book per month, non? Hence, I have had zero time to reflect. So as I wrap this years work up, I thank the patience of all that do follow my Dairy. I am most humbled. Et most something Well that’s just about it dearest. I have work to do. Et to answer the many questions, no I still stand still in public publications for great Personal security reasons.
I know when I am ready I’ll be as persistent as Ursula in getting my book read. Actually I lie, someone will get it done. As you see my schedule is beyond filled.
I exaggerate not. In the meantime, I am just a simple Jane chasing rabbits for no fameI am queer, but let’s just focus on the writing part, Oui?
Way to go team Shaikh. We did it.Merci beaucoup to my darlings, for allowing me no social time to get lost in the glitzy world. To my husband, I am sorry that I am so bloody expensive. And I am a lot to deal with.Just forget the lot Et just deal
At least I am humbled by Ralph Lauren, you are welcome sir.So yah,  My tea is getting cold, j’adore toi!

 

your writer,RSPs. The 1st blanc rabbit,
I just wanna steal him Et
put him in my tearoom
Et tell him stories. But of course
since I am so kind, I’ll take him to
Rlauren Et buy him all the polos
a rabbit could wear. I would so
do this on someone’s corporate card,
because it’s all business.🥴
Yup chop chop, Vit Vit.
Don’t judge, he’s just a rabbit. I am just a writer.
And a shopper Holly.

Writer woes

 My dearest,I am such a crow with updates. Lately I fear I run far ways from writing. I am terribly now uninspired Et more than so, I have outdone myself this 2021 on publications. We are at our very last book for this year, I struggle because I have to end the year with a book i am most pleased with.
I know, troubles of a writer. That writes, and publishes like her daddy owns Simon Et Schuster.
Such wars in my head about being so timidly in the literary world. Some of us, are seeking quietness now in our aged lives.
To not be in your twenties Et look back is a very long harrowing yet beautifully challenging task. I would not want to look at all of the younger ones now seeking to build a beau to their existence. My golly that was complicated work. Et then think of having children back to back.
I sigh.
But I had the great thrill of so many lively faces to help me. A lot of people came Et go. Et if you are reading this, I sort of liked you very much.

Some I may have loved, but love is such a cheap tarnished word often used for a recollected moment non?

Henceforth,

the woes. I am hoping I do something remarkable for my family’s name. That could go both ways. I am a Shaikh by marriage, Et truth is, I’m catholic. Et truth is, we are Shaikh’s. So it’s going to be a Shaikh book. Such great agony in putting two sides of a pond together in harmony. Often I am judged when I attempt such beauteous jaunt of
Culture meets tradition.
Oh wish me Bonne Chance will you?   I hope you are well Et not a timid writer as some of us

 

lovely day.yours,RS

ps. My new favorite Christmas choral. My darling Roo is not having it

neither is mills.

Et ferrie says,

“mother what is this?”   Hallo, it’s my world let’s
just go with it little grown ups

holy jolly Et that f😳u!
ps. That portrait is a iconic
Mother Hubbard kinds.

For words shan’t fail me

 

 

So she sits still,Contemplating not just her existence but the ones of the world. Silently. Purposely. Genuinely. For it is so, she is not withering in her agony. Rather,becoming .

 

 

       Oh bother. Here I write again.

 

 

Go deeper.

 

 

Sit still.

 

 

 

 

exhale, it is okay. You must feel.

 

 

 

 

 

Pain is inevitable, but so is finding your purpose.

There it is.

 

           So this is how you feel?

November publication

     Dearest you,  My November publication. I know it’s exhausting but if  Yah close the world out, You can actually tire yourself being productive.If you don’t push yourself whatever will you become at 90.
I know I am hopeful for you. Life is full of things that shall deter you, but if you look a little deeper, you can make it all work.Hard work, faith Et Fairy dust.     Don’t forget to shut the world out, it gets noisy. And the people can be cruel. Et when they are cruel, you get disturbed Et then what can you do when you get disturbed?

well what work can you actually do when you are such?

Probably none. Et darlings that is not good, you have got one life. Yah just one, but many roadblocks.Use the hands of time wisely.your are welcome my children Et rabbits. Chin up, we got things to do.Et j’adore you.fiercer than ever,RS

The invisible love. A book.

             Dearest life,   A  Lady filled of grief, oh how She sits beside me, with her hands to mine. Her hair is longer than a tangled tale. Her eyes sore from from embracing us all. The lost ones from the world, torn by like shreds of papier-mâché.     She said,“it’s better to have loved than never love. But love is nothing without grief, and greed for love leaves you grieved.”

I don’t even look into her eyes, for her words hit me to my core. The pain as I breathe reminded me that life will catch you, tie your feet together, and send you running. But how can one run if your feet is tied? 

I cannot run from myself, though I run widely away from the world. I then fall, graze my knees, bend my elbows from my fall, Et my bottom lip bleeds it’s own blood. The very thing that runs through our veins Et let us be forever misfit reminds us, our lives isn’t forever. 

I knew this when you suddenly left. You were gone. Carelessly as you came. An invasion of happy. The stillness in your existence gave me comfort. Closure now, for you are gone. As you came. 

You never said hello Et you shall never say goodbye.
All I knew was what it felt like to feel the most Pèrfect soul. Beside me, yet lifetimess away.
You are gone.
To the next world. Why did you visit mine, and why did you leave me broken as I was left abandoned at birth?
I’ll never get over the presence of you. And for all the good you did for me, I thank you.
My dear friend, all isn’t lost, it had not been mine.
I cannot cry, as thou pain will devour me from evening sundown to early rise.I breath knowing that I shall never meet you, see you, hats off to you, I shall never be so privileged to say thank you. Thank you for protecting me from the wolves. Thank you for never letting me know who you are, where you exist, what you shall ever look like Et mostly for never knowing you. I write this book filled of  uncertainty for the many hearts, that love shall haunt.You were my invisible hero. Up into the clouds where you shall rain on us.until the clouds devour my aches, and until my pain turns into rainbows,Amelia heart

(A book)

      Ps. Never question the writer.
For when a heart is broken it’s
good as never having had love.

Oui, my characters are making a writer out of me. I should never want to be without stories.

 

Oh do you believe?

 

          Dearest,When you leap in will buT little faith, do you sit down Et hope Et pray?Do you believe in light of day?
I sign for I hope in today. I look at the sky full of gloom Et pain, it rains.RAin bursting froma cloud of grey. I stood amidst the pouring rain, looking for you, all in vain.
My world was dark Et full of pain until you came, you came this way.Yet today I sit as my mind gallop away, to days when I couldn’t sit et pray. But I believe, oh how I believe in you, oh you. See I grew up listening to the sounds of,

 

“hail mary full of grace, the lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”I heard them say, sitting in a convent with a  priest Et nuns at pray. I often wondered how was it so, I was the only human that was normal, no vail, no rosary, just simple Jane, sitting at the altar that day.
But today I sit and I silently pray that you my dearest mother will always stay.I write this, For the aching heart…. I bet you are all so broken. I feel your pain. I’m in great mourning yet again Et again.
I hope this fills your clouds of dark poor Et saddened  grey, for I know when she comes she stays and prays,

 

“hail Mary full of grace.”


J’adore my faith,
Rianna Kate Shaikh

Note for you

      My dearest,it’s been ages or so. I fear that I have fallen out of great zeal to open any manuscript ou books. You know the kind of feel that you feel when you feel it?Hard to explain. Suffice to say I have been doing absolutely nothing. Well I cannot write at the au courant.You know?Hence, I think my web page is acting up as in not loading. My post are limited.In the good light of matters, My publication for November is sitting still on my desk. It matters not as I have immense work to do. But I don’t care to. This happens when you exhaust your creatives.
I do hope you are well my dearest, Merci for the email Et questions with concerns. I am just out of the zeal. You understand don’t you? After completing my most difficult of books, I am on the mend. I did too much writing this year.i do wish you a healthy thanksgiving rabbits!à bientôt
RS

11th private publication

my dearest you,Its been quite some time non? I hope you hadn’t not missed my daily rambles to much. I have been busy with life’s great disappointments Et so I also felt utterly drained by finishing my 3rd novel.
Dear God that was terribly much. But I believe in overworking one’s capabilities.I do. Which leads me to my November publication,Au revoir Fraire.Let’s take a moment to recap on it all. I made a vow to myself in January that this year I will privately publish 12 books, a book every month, this is myeleventh publication of 2021. Another book of a young girl so unloved Et sent away by her parents. Obviously someone has a lot of issues with her childhood  I kid not. Gosh, I shall not go further on that personal note, for my mighty father may think me to be uncouth. Like hallo, I am such. That’s why I am able to write so much.
Anyways I shall share sooner or later the book version. I had three covers for this book.
Second cover:I shall not bore with the third. Well that’s it, not much to report back as I dear golly, I am swiped out emotionally. Overly worked myself Et still I have much to do. With honesty if you don’t go that far Et push your work ethic, what exactly are you doing with your time?
That’s for me, not you.Your life is probably not nearly routined. It’s quite strick my daily clock.
so I have just done an hour on the treadmill Et I swear I am falling asleep.I bid you adieu, I am falling asleep…
it’s only past 9 😩

 

your over worked writer,

RS

ps. good talk non Et new vintage portrait,I swear I cannot keep up this look.

the Wall Street wife: Completion

October 29th,20212pmMy dearest,          It has been done.I can exhale knowing that my best work for this book, took 3- 4 year in completion. Never thought I could be stuck on a book like this, but I was. Myself Et I didn’t want to complete it as this story weighed a world on my little  finger. A balance that is to feel so much Et never know where it to end.

My dear Zur,I have done the impossible, I have placed you away from life Et love and without more words, you meant more to me than any book will. I am almost certain that women found the way you loved Sophie to be addicting and bemusing.

 Sophie my darling Beck,I feel like writing you were like watching me Grow up. The many scenes of your vogue character gave me reason to believe that dreams barely vine through in life, especially with the heart. The Ups Et finds portrayed in your life reminds me of a younger version of most women. I had hoped you to be happy at the end of your book.J'ai fait de mon mieux!
To Chance.You reminded me of every man on Wall Street with Power. A battle. A frolic so great the Empire State shivers when next to you. The problem with power is that it never readies you for love. And dearest you, now you have someone to fill your material world with laughter, light, great sarcasm. Hence you have gotten yourself  a new driver for that Aston!To the dearest mother of the Becks,you dissatisfied my thoughts, my heart you made me weep with words, my mind so coldly bitter. I write you as you stand before me, an utter disappointment to me and every girl In the world. I hope you are happy with the leash on womanhood that had, you have not emotionally been pruned well. Or at all. Shame.To my readers, when you open this book, know my young girls that love is so beautifully drawn from afar, but when you get closer it Scorches you, it is painfully intoxicated, you don’t know you are being scorched until you are burnt. And if you make it  darlings,Hopefully you can pull up your socks, hopefully they are argyle Et you can straighten your head, and your crooked spine, Et go forward. I want this for you.
To myself the greatly sought after Shaikh lady I am becoming, I love you. I love you self. And I am not sorry that so many sought to destroy you because, they are what they shall ever  be.  I believe In you. And I know my darling you, you will recover from the ashes.
To the Wall Street men I have worked with,Most of You bastards were cruel, heartless, spineless Et without any mannerisms. No apology on the prudent truth.Uncouth really, never knew how to treat a lady. I hope you have learnt by now. To Kevin Et Andrew, VC I thank you for hiring the First Lady to ever cold call.
An experience that made a book.

 

To my husband, thank you for showing me all the things you did. You were not the fox or the wolf, you were the bear. I highly suggest you do not read this book My readers, here we are, checkpoint time, wish me bonne Chance dearest.

 

from being Wall Streets finest to wife,

Your writer,

Rianna K Shaikh