Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 8

September 15, 2022

the dejection of lies

 

     dearest world,

I sound like an old ancient lady marveled in lace with a feather at hand et a heart full of woeful begone stories to tell.

Better yet, i am young and bloddy woeful. To make matters worst, gravely so,

 I am more wealthier than all of Long Island’s finest, but fear not i am full of misery and heart bent tales.I am fed up with this forage of madness To do or be damned.To love but sin greatly.To have but to be inadequate and alone.To feel yet feel shoveled within a world full of shame et melancholic sips of le pin.               Alone i am.    Again,

sitting in father’s study reading the most insanely crude yet most perspicacious of teachers,

of all times, grant it you all lived.  I read our  fellow genius,

Marcus Aurelius.God save me, for the queen is now dead.

 

               Envied in Valentino, et nestled in the Brookvilles,        Sophie Becks

 

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Published on September 15, 2022 10:34

September 14, 2022

to rêver

 

dearest,

I always look at the very idea of being  awake et dreaming of things that once seemed et felt quite impossible.

I truly believe that all things are possible with  God.

There are some impossibilities though sparse as life left cannot be returned, the parted is gone. I feel like no matter how i look  at it, or live in a dream, it’s news that time gone shall never be rehearsed again.

As a girl i dreamt little, i feared more for i saw the world internally out, so to making this simpler,i often knew that nothing is at it seems.

Though i have spent my entirety in privacy et extreme solace that i have grown accustomed to no one. Truth is sad non?  But my life allows me no fantasy, hence being a writer is much more of my gift.

Thank God i was graced with one
or i’d be a lost human in mère wars.

About dreams, if you have one, ever since, tough so, impossible so, terribly so,

you ought to know all of your lives are with an hourglass of sand, not to be a fairy of time,  but we are all living to become aged et impossible to do then what we can now.I feel now more than ever, it’s why the 40’s are so much like traveling through a drift of storms. Inky winky, it’s a stoic journey to get to you.I know brilliantly stupid.

I think if in your life, you are at the verge of 40 know a bad storm is coming, but it only hits you out of the occurring ordinary after 40.

If you are in it, stay still, watch it come to a  fiercing  breath only to toss you around like 1947.

But stay put, like the old folks beckoned when you were an impatient little human throwing a tantrum,

It shall pass, your wounds will feel deeper et alive, but somehow you’ll get many life jackets, weather the storm of grief et growth.

It’s okay, i have been there, i think it’s why i can’t write as much as i did, i am restless in my endeavors of becoming.

I am not driven by money et silly  urges to have hefty networths and significant wealth. Not anymore.I am driven to pen truth on papier et heal the little girl  i am inside. As my darlings that’s what the 40’s are for.If anyone tells you differently,
pardon them, they are in the grassy
grasp of denial.That’s like being shipwrecked in sand.Well i adore you all so much, et i thank you for bearing with my 40’s.

It’s a tough place to sit in et sip tea with monsieur

reality.

Oh how i loathe him. Really so.Soo much.dearly merily,Rianna kate Shaikh

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Published on September 14, 2022 12:08

September 7, 2022

the isle of grief-Emeline B- editorial

 

                             September 7,2022    my dearest,I sat et read 100 pages of Emeline, her grief captures me et throws me in a valley of awakening darkness.So dark i barely see light. I cannot weep, though she be her et i , well i. Her writer i am. i am hidden away from the world of light. My heart is so heavy, her eyes so full, my woeful delight is will this saddened friend i made, will it end, will she forever behold us near her flame?

Her heart is trapped in a life so beguiling, for i cannot match her tears.

Her youthful evergreen self is withering, in a place that no one can reach.I breath sitting still with my mont at hand, holding her fears et watching her pale skin. She’s lost in herself as grief takes her days et melt them into a tunnel of night. There is no sun, there is no light.  there is no friend standing with a lantern  in sight.  A valley of empty darkness  is her own delight. She weeps a second, stay cold  another, she battles her mind to release her lover.”Dying would be as simple as a cup of tea.”

 

 She sits et utter to me. 
An immense wave of sadness hath pushed her below the darkened seas, she lays there going deeper in death. Yet her heart beats faster to fight the waves that tug and pull her to the bottom of the roadless sunken, aqua mossy  green water.   There is no hope in grief.
There is no light in life.
There can be no reason to
hope in living,
for this pain is greater than all
the love she once was filled with.“Pain has a face like no other, she smiles et you hand over your glee of light. She wails in her soul but fights to stay hidden, somewhere in the quivering  light.”   well this is what your writer hath written, a sad so sad, you cannot ignite no light.   for the grieving hearts,     Rianna kate Shaikh
ps. oui i hold 8 covers
at the moment, she’s a very
beautifully
complex character.
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Published on September 07, 2022 12:19

September 6, 2022

never remain as you are

 

my dearest you,

As we take ship  on the journey of becoming, let’s never forget to understand that we can’t remain as we are.

Life was not meant to be in standstill, for as time pulls  forth, life goes forth et we release we receive, or we surrender as we fight or we live as we are or as many in life breathe their last of breath, they retire from the film of existence.Some are birth whilst some are withering, as many are being revived by lady time.Hence, life never quite remains as she is.

So why should we?

To be or not to be, oui?I was reading messages sent to me, a lot are confused about the agonies of life. There isn’t a clear plan my darlings, there isn’t one road, there isn’t just one decision that will path your way.

There are many roads,  lucky you are all so privileged to have choices.

It’s like my husband said to me
in the darkest cloud of my days,
“your cup is not half empty,
it’s half full.”I was then sullen but i still could not envision the glass half full.Nothing is as it seems,
it’s more like it feels,

 in your your disconsolate of a moment,
your woebegone will bustle  on,
so shall we.
We must carry on,
we must always hold our blithe
with us
for always.

For life is rather a game of chess in its temperamental storms et unfair tidings. With people that often don’t know their hearts are for giving et kindness is for living.Hence, a world so unkind, it’s like a kingdom without a king or a queen.              comprendre?I am here for you, et i read your letters, obviously if you are reading this, it’s made for you et stamped with S.

 

    your writer fervently, Rianna kate Shaikh

 

ps. thank you for reading me 😯

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Published on September 06, 2022 23:50

September 3, 2022

dearest lou

 

    darling boy,I amalmost at the cliffs of goodbye. Though i look back et most of my happy was when my hands were in yours. When we breath the very air that filled our lungs. Together we were an absolute pair of eternity.Apart we are but one here, yet one dead. I miss you my darling. more than i miss the things that sustained me.This is my gooodbye to you, for i can’t write you anymore, it gives me sad hope that you are listening.I am not mad at you, i am mad at me, mad that i get to be unloved et filled of grief that no matter what i do or say it feels like, i’m like a book, unread et empty.      Thank you for loving me like you did, it filled me full until you left without a goodbye, without a word, without a note of why.Why did you ever come in to ruin me, in the blossoming of my very youth, why?   i know you can hear me.

 

    goodbye my lost boy,                         Emeline Benoit             your once forever 
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Published on September 03, 2022 21:12

au revoir emeline

 

 

 

   dearest,I sit lost in the French countryside, my toile  walls of what will never be, i feel like i hath lost a battle that i wish i could of won, not for me butfor the many hearts that truly love.I feel like i am worn to the threads of fabric that once  wove together a life. I am drowning by the air of Emeline et Lou.Today makes it a year since i
started this book,
today i finished it.


September 2nd, 2022.In my life the very short time i have been writing, i have never taken such a long time to finish what love had north star on my papier.
So here i am sitting et wishing i had a bar of dark chocolats so i could spare myself anymore torments. Love is not my most adequate of topics. But i write to you, dearest world, 269 pages of mere rain et storms.

A collision  of here et there.

the storms of kinds you barely can
recover from.
I swear if i continued further
i would need
a therapist and medicine 😩!I am most exhausted.
The embers of love shall forever
weft a piece of their love with me.    signing out of the Emeline B chronicles,
  Rianna Kate Shaikh 
ps. my covers, being a writer is
woeful
at times.

listening to sam smith.
Wraping up the sadness of the century…

🎶look for you
Every day, every night
I close my eyes
From the fear, from the lightAs I wander down the avenue, so confused
Guess I’ll try and force a smilePink lemonade sippin’ on a Sunday
Couples holding hands on a runway
They’re all posing in a picture frame
Whilst my world’s crashing down
Solo shadow on a sidewalk
Just want somebody to die for
Sunshine livin’ on a perfect day
While my world’s crashing down
I just want somebody to die for🎶
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Published on September 03, 2022 19:42

August 20, 2022

the art of betrayal

                “To deceive so greatly
is to slam doors in the face of God.

Are you so stupidly brave dear boy?”
♣

my dearest,

Late night pen a vous i suppose. I wanted to share something with you my dear readers…

As one of my closest of characters wrote:

 

“Sister i am sorry for all i have done. I never meant to hurt you like they did. Being blood i should of known that it didn’t mean if i did you would forgive me. But i did, now i amsorry  for betraying you. All the money in the world cannot replace what we had. But had is past. I was better when my face stayed poor. It is true, money ruins everyone.” The trouble with him was that he took full advance of his bloodline et hence not only did he loose her, the only one truly devoted to him, he lost everything that came with it. I think a lot of people misconstrue their situations et abuse their power in life.So it’s my next story in line.

One of my greatest things my grand père taught me was this,

“It takes a lifetime to build trust and when it’s lost- well it’s like an ex wife,goneFOREVER.”Lucky for me i don’t ever cross lines
nor do i ever hurt people.
I don’t break trust, i don’t lie.
I don’t deceive. No sir.
i live kindly.

But, if you try to cross me, well you are locked out. If you have et you are still are not locked out, it’s not me,

God is trying to show you something. So learn.
Stop what you are doing.As you see, Everet above lost it all, poor fellow, he too had a townhouse mind.Next  book, sibling betrayal. Oops. This is gonna be one for the shelves. Well merci for reading dearest!oui chivalry is dead.

Oh but let’s take a moment to look at the graces of faith.

From Rome to you.Sent by holy father.

Rome, Italy, St. Peter’s Basilica  

 

yours,Rianna Kate Shaikh

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Published on August 20, 2022 22:22

August 15, 2022

the age of sensibilities

 

dearest,Today i stumbled upon a great little note from a reader that is much in her youth yet.

Think of when we were in our late twenties.

Well i’d be the first to say i would of fired my entire staff much much earlier. There were so many things i had done wrong. So many. My biggest was letting everyone step on my mary janes.

My toes, to be precise.

See, with getting older you must be mindful that everything is willed by God. Not to trouble your heads about marriage, success, wealth very different if i might say, great difference the two. As life seems to unravel itself. She’s like that model getting ready to be photographed for vogue, yet she’s  covered in ribbons.

If i were a model, by the way, i would only be photographed in corsets et chapeau, with laces et pearls- a lady in the early era. I may even call myself lady Touge 😜

My twenties were tough. My life lessons were greatly et  immensely a  journey of utter betrayals by so many. Thorny, if i may. Wildering was taken to another level. Yet as private as i may seem, i’m ready to write of it all.

Non, non not my life story please. Imagine the people that shall try to ruin moi, all of you should find yourself a little peace of God, start by the chapel.

🤷🏼‍♀️

To my young readers, life is filed with moments of angst et perplexities, some you may overcome and some  you may drown from. Nevertheless, Micheal  Phelps should be your role model, not moi, i’m learning to swim yet you see, et i find life to at times be like a horse that throws you off the saddle just when you think you mastered equestrianism.

I thought  i did et oui i fell so bad, i didn’t think i would exist yet another day.

Hence, Dearest God, i am most filled with gratitude. I know i get holy at times. but then my angst too gets in the room et well it gets crowded.

We are alike non?

The message is, you are read fellow friends, i struggle to read all but yet i try. Some days i am ever so busy, but then luckily i fall asleep on my velvet settee in the middle of the day, alarmed as to what kind of mother i am 😜

I am a good wife. I know that. I have forfeited all of my personal success to stand where i am- mothering in my louie vV sunglasses. And straightening the spine of my dear Cristopher Columbus, so help me God.

That’s something the world knows not of me. I am devoted to this life. Come hell or rain, we got a job to do.

For the rest, there is on line shopping  at 2am.

WHAATT?

Not moi 🤡!

Fine. still not moi. So i was wrapping up Emeline B et then i realized  her heart was still beating strongly on my papier, so i had to delve in deeper.

oh Good graces.

Trust me if they gave me money for books, i would have nothing to buy. Nope, i don’t want an aston. i mean it. No thank you. I’d rather ride a bicycle 😩

Et they say i’m not humble. Crows. They know me not. I’m glad to have things that i desire in life. but that’s fleeting. I enjoy very little, un peu.

Another fact about moi.

Well i have work to do, a miracle happened. Before i go, would you do me a favor?

 Promise to be better. You can if you try. Don’t let the darkness of this world swallow you alive like Emeline B. Stay happy – fight for your happy.Stay focused. i believe in you.

By the way i’m fencing now. I imagine i hope to keep my limbs intact.

     live with sensibility,                  Rianna Kate Shaikh
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Published on August 15, 2022 23:10

August 14, 2022

et surely life happens …

 

    my dearest rabbits,

How are thou?

i take it thou is well. Well i shan’t sound like my fellow Shakespeare because he is dead 🤷🏼‍♀️Fine that was rude, rest up dear friend. Your era was filled to the brim of misery et tears. No wonder i am fallen on papier, though i shall never be as famous as him.

“Count your blessings Rianna Katey kate, count them 😫! “

So i was sleeping very late today, really honestly i was up till 3 am watching things on the screen. It was so necessary- hallo retired people do this non?

Well morning sun jolted in her beauty, my husband opened the doors looked at me et said,

“Can you write me a book on my childhood and please put Hamza in it?”

I was like…

“do you think i am stilla writer after this summer?”he laughed. I kept serious faced as i mean, hallo i have been missing in all things books for months. I feel like i need a therapist to sit me down et say,“darling hush now, it’s okay, it’s over. Summer is fin.”I mean …

I ate watermelons by the pool, swam like a fish, redesigned my entire house, plastered my walls in

de gournay like Sophie Becks, i planted a bloody conservatory- hallo move over Einstein this is my darn show!

And i also talked to random people by the seaside and not to be so humble but i can still drive my car! Fine i did not, a mouse did 🐭 most of the time.

okay there it is. i cannot go back to life working like i did. all the time, 7 days a week, also writing books, all the time. non thank you.

 So this the verdict, i have fallen lazy. Still taking selfies….

That my friends is a real illness. So i had to inform you as i was trying to post on my insta i have realized  i got zero to say. or write. I feel like solidarity has ruined moi.
This “inner peace” business is seriously a thing. So if you happen to be a writer, a creative human where your job depends on it- run from inner peace.

Yah. run.

I have just saved you loads of money. and oui you are most welcomed. Or is it welcome?

  Your writer that hath discovered
vivre et inner peace,      Rianna kate Shaikhps. make up credits by Anastasia of BH, a girl knows to powder like Marie Antoinette et my famed scarf, my husband gifted from Germany. I think that’s why i let him travel. Shush don’t say that loud!

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Published on August 14, 2022 16:56

August 10, 2022

a letter by emeline Benoit

     dearest lou,

I sit somber with the flesh to my dying bones,

thinking of what house we had built.

 I silently think when you once fall in love with someone so deep you too die if they exist not, i today stand by your grave telling you,“though i am here, i have died a thousand times yet i stay breathing.”I exist without you.

My tears are now a desert so dry that i sit and count my breath down till i hold you in my arms.

I cannot live this life with a half self,

a half beat,

a half breath.    I love you till
eternity
surrenders her key.

 

     forever your person,       Emeline Benoit

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Published on August 10, 2022 20:13