Leave me on a desserted island with nothing but a pen and a piece of paper; with those, I shall create myself another world.



Monday, November 28, 2011

Message In a Blog

This one is meant for a special somebody. You know who you are.

Dear You,
Over and over again, I've said that I have no regrets. I believe that every single act of mine in life lead me to where I am today. I have no intention of being another cliche, but it is true that I wouldn't have been the same person if I didn't go through all the fallen out friendships and the horrible relationships. The lies and betrayal have taught me more than I could ever put into words. Mostly, they taught me how to distinguish good from evil. They taught me how to be more appreciative of myself and of others when they are worthy. Then you came along. I became more certain of my beliefs than ever before. You know, some people would curse their luck for all the bad relationships they've been through but I...I thank God. I thank God that after all my patience, I got you. "I have what many in life are still looking for and few ever find" - quoted from the movie Message In a Bottle. I watched that movie last night and that particular phrase reminded me of you. I honestly don't know where this is going but to be frank, I only wrote this to send out one message for you. I will forever be grateful for the day you walked into my life, saving me from all my misery and saving me from myself. You let me be myself in the best of ways, in ways I could have never imagined. I have had issues with being taken for granted and so, I tell you this. For every single day of my life, I will wake up smiling and thanking God for having someone as rare as you - someone with never ending passion and continuously growing love. Now I understand what it's like to fall in love at first sight and how two people can make each other fully happy and completely satisfied. I apologize for anybody I've hurt before and I let go of anyone who has hurt me. Since the day I met you, you have made me realize that the past doesn't matter because it lead straight up to you. And so, I have no regrets. Just ever-lasting appreciation and love for the one person that breathed life back into me just when I had given up on it. Thank you for always being modest, for always thinking I'm worthy of you giving me more when you have already given me everything I could have ever hoped for. Thank you for promising you would never change and thank you for keeping that promise. Thank you for making sure I never slept one night except when overjoyed. Thank you, in advance, for always being here because I'm finally certain that you always will be.
Love always,
Me.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Delusions

"Just don't give up", he said.
"Just don't give up", he begged.
We make our bed
And we lie in it.
There's so much more, you know.
I've still got so much more to give,
So much more to show you.
Just give me time.
You're mine
And I never thought the day would come
When I'd stand here empty handed
Regretting taking you for granted.
"Just don't give up", he said.
As I walked away,
He didn't plead.
He never begged.
Not even a single word was said.
That was just the hopeful scenario in my head.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

[HBBC - 2] Selective Ability


Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium's (HBBC) second post. Meet the members here.
This week's topic is Forgive and forget, chosen by Noor Al Zubaidy. Please take the time to view the members' blogs just as you viewed mine in order to get different perspectives about the same topic.

**********************************************************************************

I was looking for quotes to begin this article with when I came across this
"To forgive and not to forget is like burying the hatchet with the handle sticking out."
~ Unknown


It is that handle that we tug on in times of despair, when we want to remind someone of the extent of compromise we have done  and how much we have let go of things that were painful to us for their sake. We use that martyr-card because we believe it will color us forgiving in the eyes of the beholder, only doesn't it actually show how we were never really that forgiving at all?! Doesn't it actually seem like we occasionally let things go just to bring them up again and use them against somebody when the time calls for it..?!

Well anyway, to forgive...to TRULY forgive...one must let go. I don't know what comes first to the common person but personally, "forgive and forget" for me is just about letting it go. Extracting the pain from a memory, tearing that piece of the past apart, burning it and dispersing its ashes upon moving waters until nature takes that aching act far far away from sight and mind.

Normally, I don't find it that difficult. Once I found someone extremely unworthy of everything I've ever done for them, I look at them as strangers that I never knew. I actually am able to extract every good, bad and neutral memory out of that individual and look at them as if I've never seen or spoken to them before. I forget their voice, their smile, their laughs and I actually forget entire situations. I lose bulks and bulks of memories related to them until poof, they never existed in my life before. I would explain how I did it if only I knew how.

And if only I knew how, I would will myself into forgiving and forgetting the others. Those who were unworthy yet worthy. The ones who killed me yet breathed life into me. The people who I thought I knew but turned out I never understood. Those very very few people who stabbed me as I cried for them, who went cruel as I went soft, who walked away at the first chance they got. Those are the people I don't know how to let go of. The kind of people that so many unanswered questions revolve around, that they remain a mystery I try to unravel every single day. Those are the people I can not forgive. And can not forget.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Letters and Broken Hearts

This one's a special dedication for a girl, a stranger I do not know; yet, she reminded me of myself in painful days and ended up being my muse for the day. I wish you well and I wish you a happier ending.

When pain consumed her from within
When it took her under and in
And threw her back to life
Simply to watch life that she couldn't have
Shattered, paralysed
And left staring at a thousand pieces
Of an antique she could never replace

When her head hit the pillow
And thoughts of him had raced
Memories she attemped to erase
And pictures she had torn
Form a collage in her mind,
Brings tears to her eyes
And punches a hole in her chest

When in her blank stares, he would hide
In her head, behind
Lingering awaiting the moment she walks
To trip her again
She tumbles again
And from the ground
She sees the stain from when her heart had bled

When that pain becomes a weight
That no painkillers could cure
And no friends could listen to
And no person could endure

She puts pen to paper
She draws skyscrapers
That have been diminished to debris.

She puts pen to paper..
And with all the strength she has left
All the hope that hasn't left yet
She writes.

She writes her pain away
Hoping that these debris..
These words..
Could be put together again..
Reformed and rephrased..
To tell a different story..
One where they do not have to be apart.
One with a happier ending.

A Bipolar Addiction

I've got you under my skin,
Between my fingers,
Written across my forehead,
And stamped on my chin.
I've got you around me
And I've got you deep in
Where no one can see
Where no one but me
Knows what you can do -
What you are capable of
The strength you could use
The powers you abuse
When it comes to me.
I've got you under
And I've got you on top..
Like a cloud that trails me
And rains on my parade
Like my stalker of a shade.
Does no one see
The reality?
You're viral,
I spiral
In limbo because of you..
I do!
I laugh,
I cry
and with your bidding
I live and die
and live again.
You see,
I've got you under my skin.
And only I am to blame.
I let you in.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Fading Vividly


The night was pale
The stars were dim
I sat there
Thinking of him
And the burned out fire.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Gone is the love
Gone is the lust
Yet lingers around
My sense of despair
For the fact that he
Is no longer there.

[HBBC - 1] Love "You" and Be Loved In Return

Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium‘s (HBBC) first post, where NemaMaha Mohamed,Ammar Al-MajaliRana SafiMaryamYara HaniNoha HanafyNoor Al ZubaidyNouran ZiadNoor El terkSalima Al MasrouriMariam TarekSara AmrYasmine FayezRania Khaled,Engi AminIbhogHagar Haggag, Abeer Zaki, Yomna Arbad, Salma M San, My Essam and I voice our opinions about a weekly topic chosen by any HBBC member. This weekend’s topic is Self-love, chosen by Nema. Please take the time to view their blogs just like you viewed mine in order to get different perspectives on the same topic. 


Topic of the day- 
Self-Love


No matter how much we claim that we don't care about people's opinions, there's always this little part at the back of our heads wondering how people will respond to certain behaviors, incidents in our life, a haircut or even an outfit we're wearing. We wonder if we will fit in with our looks and words, if we will belong...if we will be liked and loved. And I'm not referring to the boy-girl love people think the term is bound to. Love that exists between friends and family has been obviously forgotten but it's still there you know. So, let me speak for all forms and shapes of love. And please allow me to say that, if you do not love yourself, nobody will ever love you.


Think about if someone talks to you endlessly about a pair of horrible shoes, for instance; when you finally see the shoes, you're going to find it very difficult to see good in them even if they are classy pencil heels that will make you look taller and adjust your posture to a confident and feminine one rather than the slouched casual everyday look you're so sick of. You will see the shoes through the other person's eyes so no matter how good they are, they will always be just a little bit damaged in your sight now.


People see you through your own eyes. Your insecurities can shape your facial features. Your lack of confidence shows in your eyes that move around looking for what you think you do not have. Your poor self-esteem is bouncing around midst the circle of friends talking oh-so-confidently while you stand gaping, unsure of whether you should include yourself in the conversation or if people won't think you're smart or funny enough.


People see that. People see you not liking yourself enough and eventually, they think the same of you as you think of yourself. And why wouldn't they? Why would someone like who you are if you, yourself, do not like who you are..?! 


Learn to love yourself. Seriously, no one is more worthy of being loved than YOU. No one will ever look out for you more than yourself. People come and go, even family. People move away, lose touch or (God Forbid) pass away. Only you remain with yourself until the very end of your journey in life. From beginning to end.


So, love yourself! Learn to have fun ON YOUR OWN rather than making your happiness dependent on someone who may or may not be there. Learn to enjoy your own company because if you don't, why on earth would anyone enjoy yours?!

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Til death deems me deaf.

In all foreign languages
A melody was sung
You stood there,
Young forever.
Eager as ever.
Vocals strong
With the perfect pitch
The perfect switch
From happy to mad
To angry to sad.
You caught me.
You taught me
You showed me
How to glide
With a hypnotic voice
That drowned an entire universe.
Sing me to the grave, will you?
With this never ending song -
Sing me to the grave.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

This is my Goodbye.

Your not-so-veiled attempts at speech seems to trigger a laughter I've never heard myself laugh before. Ignites emotions that I never knew existed. A whole new kind of pity. Pity for the extent of denial people lurch themselves into. Pity for how pride could destroy dreams, a life and a future while you stand there watching it all burn down, nevertheless guarding your ego with every breath you take in, every strength within you, stroking it like it's all you've got.
I wish you luck with your inabilities. Your inability to apologize, to admit a mistake, to show regret. I wish you happiness with your inability to save a life you've longed for, a love you've desired, a heart you wanted so dearly to own. I wish you eternity with your inability to save yourself from the mistake of not fixing a mistake that needed fixing.

Sparkles of initiation

The bliss of love.
Love that is easy.
Love that is simple.
Love that flows, expands, quadruples without effort.
Had I been told that it existed, I would have never believed.
Love that knows no stubornness.
Love that knows no games.
Love that replenishes itself
never restrained by boredom,
annoyance,
and re-occuring short-term frustration.
Had I been told that love dwells beyond the walls of fairytale castles,
I would have called you a liar.

Parallel Universe

Sometimes you feel out of place.
Like everyone is in sync except for you.
Like everyone is on the same page while you stand alone in the opposing page..just a sentence amidst a white page written in a relatively eccentric font.
Like you're in a parallel universe, watching but never able to cross over.
Because they're always one step ahead.
One page away.
One block away.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

We thought wrong.

There were days when I couldn't get out of bed in the morning...when I thought wrapping myself with a quilt and holding my pillow tight would make me feel safer and fill the hole in my chest. I put on a blindfold and wouldn't bear to see a ray of sunlight that reminded me there was an entire life out there that you kept me from - a shining sun, a light breeze and laughter scattered all around that without you seemed ridiculous and bitter. All the while you saw the love grow in me and began to grow apart from me, your certainty increasing by the minute that if I love you to the extent of not leaving my doorstep, I love you enough to never leave you.

You were wrong.

You see, one day a force pulled me out of my shell. I saw life. I saw people who can't bear to see the tears you laugh at. I met friends who were terrified at the thought of losing me even when they knew they had my heart in hold. I heard laughter that I couldn't immitate because it never came from the heart. I saw glittering eyes, contrary to the glassy ones that stared back at me in every mirror. I learned. My guard was shed so up high that I could do nothing but look at tiny moments I wished I could have. Moments that I forgot ever existed. Like a smile almost breaking your face. An unstoppable laughter that brings tears to your eyes and clenches your stomach so tight that it's hard to breathe. A moment that is so breath-taking that you can't put it into words. It was difficult. But I learned.

I learned that life is too valuable to revolve around one person. Happiness is too precious to be depending on a human being. A heart is too fragile to keep handing to a wreckless inconsiderate individual and me...? I was too much for you.

I can breathe now. I can smile until it hurts. I can laugh until happy tears shower my face. And there's light in my eyes again.


Sunday, May 8, 2011

Word of Advice from a Fellow Follower

Life is a series of moments and before we notice, they pass us by. It is these tiny moments that build up to form other tiny moments that on the long run, forms a life..shapes who we are..creates our existence. Take it for granted and your moments will be worthless leading to a whole lifetime of trivialities. Stop following your life. Lead it. And make your moment worth the breath because there are only so many breaths we can take.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Nostalgia

When I was younger, my father took me to the beach every weekend. Ofcourse, I didn't know how to swim yet back then but like any other kid, I enjoyed playing in the sand..taking a few steps into the water and running back before it crossed my mind to do something as utterly insane as go any further. One day, I was lying at the shore when a white tiny creature with colorful polka dots landed on my tummy. I paniced! I smacked the tiny thing assuming it bit and jumped yelling to my dad for help. He came running to see that my outbreak was over a butterfly. Well, in my defense, I never knew butterflies could come in white and polka dots. All I knew were the beije ugly ones. Anyway, I still recall the incredible sensation of guilt when my dad told me what it was and that I had broken its wing. It limped on and I headed back home feeling like I have done the worst thing that could ever be done.

I wish I could go back to that time. A time when the worst thing I have ever done was accidentally break a flying creature's wing or throw that sandwitch my mom insisted on giving me everyday for lunch in school. When the things I knew in life didn't even cover the different colors of a butterfly...and when smacking one was the biggest disappointment I could ever cause my father.

I long for a time when such purity and innocence existed.

Once Upon A Blindfold

I looked at your face today
and came to realize that mask you wear
you know, I almost didn't see it there
one day you were an angel
the next i could see
that you were just someone misinterpreted by me

I looked at your eyes today
and saw the ugly truth
no kindness, no mercy, no ruth
one day they were sparkling
the next they were crass
your once lively eyes are cold hard glass!

I looked at you, my friend, today
and I could finally tell
I never really knew you all that well
one day you were a soulmate
the next you became a face
the kind you try to put a name to

but can't.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Bittersweet Chaos

I have struggled over the past few months to understand what makes people the way they are. I still do not comprehend the lengths that people go to to cause someone pain. I fail to grasp the sense behind imposing hurt upon someone you love and looking the other direction when their tears begin to fall. What I don't seem to quite understand at all, however, is why people tend to love more when they are loved less...and love less when they are loved more. People are like mosaic glass. A bunch of colorful pieces that are in different shapes, sizes and shades..yet they fit into making this masterpiece. A masterpiece in the form of a human being that you can never understand.

In His Shoes

She tattood his name on her forehead, lifted up her bangs with a clip and walked around staring everyone in the eye. She wore his shirt, his jeans, his cap, the red heart chain he gave her on valentines and the diamond ring he swore his love to her with. She sprayed his perfume and saw life through his eyes. That's when he looked at her and called her insane. That's when he told a girl who became everything he wanted her to be that she wasn't. That's when the girl who grew to love him the way he begged for ended up being the girl who needs to love him a little less.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A religion gone bad..Faith lost

I go back with my mind to a time when I was chased after..when I was begged over and over again to let my life revolve around you. You'd said I'd never regret making you the center of my universe but you were wrong.
I sit here getting flashbacks of all the times you told me no one would ever be there for me but you, no one would ever care nor understand nor break for me as much as you would. I believed.
Through time you have taught me that everyone in life is a variable except for you; you are a constant. That's what you said. You let me believe that people would come and go and so, you were the only person I could rely on. You taught me how to pour my heart and soul out to you. You fed me from a doctrine that lead me to never be comfortable except when speaking out my crisis for YOU. Little did I know that soon, you'd pick everybody else over me. You'd create a universe for yourself with axises that do not include me. Little did I know that you'd go against the religion you created.
Your teachings lacked. I don't know if it was a mistake or a strategy designed on purpose. All I know is that you taught me how to let my life be yours but never told me what to make it revolve around when you vanished. You taught me how to pour myself to you but not how to contain myself. See, you prepared me for everything that served you and made you feel special but you never prepared me for my fall-out when you suddenly go MIA.
For all of that, I resent you. I love you nevertheless but I truly resent you. I despise the day I let go of my defenses thinking I'd never need them again because you were my savior. I never thought you could lead me on to a territory filled with guns pointed at me, telling me that you have my back and then letting all these bullets penetrate me simply because you abruptly decided you have a different destination to reach at that particular moment.
I resent you for letting me put my guard down, telling me you'd keep me safe then be the one to attack me. I resent you for making me vulnerable and then watching me break.
But most of all, I got to say, I resent you for the humiliation. The god damn humiliation of begging you over and over and over AND GOD DAMN OVER again to break my fall and never getting a response!! I'd rather just lay on the ground, broken and unfound than continously asking someone for a lift up and being let down. I'd rather die here alone than watch you miss out on a chance to help.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Make-Believe

You stand in front of a mirror and you see a halo. You see a halo, wings and an array of light sillhouetting your body portraying you as the angel you believe you are. Little do you know that you are as flawed as the next human being. This attitude is not very uncommon. You were like that from the very beginning but back then, I believed you had the right to envision yourself the way you did. You were, truly, an image of perfection. Your criticisms to me made so much sense because I was just a wandering soul so tangled up in a spiderweb of insecurities and complexes caused by other guys.
It was easier to remain stuck in that web, you know. Because I always had you trying to extract me away from it, making me yours. A while later it became a burden on my chest. Seeing you so perfect made me strive for perfection myself, just in order to deserve someone so rare and unique like you. However, months passed and turned into years and I've become to realize that it was not about you putting yourself on a pedestal where you belonged. It was all about you continously seeing yourself flawless and putting yourself up there regardless of whether or not you earned it.
I am sorry, dear sir, to break it out to you. You are not perfect. As a matter of fact, as time passed and I have learned to become the person you wanted me to be (the person you claim is one that is totally different today from who I used to be a year ago) I came to realize that you are just like everybody else. There is no "one in a million". I have used that phrase to describe you so frequently over the past year and a half that I now beat myself up for believing in a fairytale because I should have known, after the age of 12, that they simply DO NOT EXIST.I have come to acknowledge the fact that you will, forever, find yourself above me even when you are not. You will continue to see me lacking so much when it is you who lacks plenty. I've grown to see that after I changed for you, become a different person (according to your testimonial) and still hear you call me "unfixable" and "unchangable".
Respected and beloved sir, do you not see that when I was changing to become the person you wanted me to be you became a person who took my presence for granted? It is true!! You who persistently told me that I would never regret making my life revolve around you now complain when I say I miss you. You, who swore a billion times that you weren't the kind of man that loses interest when he catches the prey, now find me too attached, too expectant, too demanding. And have I not the right to demand to see you more than once a week when I know that in a matter of days, the distance parting us will force us not to see eachother at all?!
I no longer know if I should resent you for getting me so attached to you then pushing me away or if I should hate myself for not sticking to my initial plan of "a little distance will do us both good". Worse even, I now abhor myself for continously talking to you about it only to find you responding by telling me I have issues I need to work out on my own. Ofcourse, a few hours later, you'd apologize and beg me to speak my mind and heart out to you; only when I do, you slap me on the face with the same phrase again. And the cycle continues. And I never give up on expecting the day that I pour out my guts and find you taking me in your arms without putting up defenses so high.
Dear sir, you are a liar and a fake. You said you weren't like all other men but you are. You said our life together would be better when I make my world revolve around only YOU and it made it hell. You said that when I change, you'd appreciate me more but you continue to stab me with words that make me feel like I am a person immune to all positive change. You said you wanted me to be entirely yours and the moment I became nothing but that, you want me to "work out on my issues".
          Where do I begin? Do I begin with ending all sorts of conversation with you because they always lead to a fight? Or shall I start at detaching myself from you? Or shall I simply become the horrible person I used to be so that you keep at your attempts to get me closer? Am I destined to a life of cat and mouse? Is that what love is? Do I have to keep running away to be chased? What if I don't want to run away from you but into your arms? What if I want you to be that unicorn I thought you were? What if all I wanted from life was YOU?!
That is not an option anymore though, is it? You see, I changed. I became a more quiet person because you were too jealous of any attention my loud self could attract. I changed my social circle to satisfy your protectiveness. I made you the ONLY priority because you hated that there were others on my list, even if below you. While I did that, you became confident I am yours. You became certain you have earned my love and so, you stopped exerting any effort to make me love you more. You knew I had nothing else in my world and so, you found it ordinary to put me on a shelf and pick me up whenever you wanted because you know I had nowhere else to go and no one else to be with but you.
And after all that, you call me hopeless. You say you give up on me changing because it is an impossibility. You made me the perfect girl and began tarnishing your image in my eyes with flaws, mistakes, carelessness and inconsideration. Yet, you STILL stand in front of that darn mirror and dare see yourself FLAWLESS!!! You stroke your ego endlessly on the expense of breaking my heart and begin bombarding me with attacks, accusations, claims and LIES, LIES, LIES!! Is it not enough that with all the mistakes you do, you continue believing that you are a saint? Is it really necessary to make it your mission to BRING ME DOWN in the process? To tell me that it is III who does not care about your future when I have continously encouraged you to follow your dream and fueled your faith when you lacked it?! To tell me that it is III who erased the traces of your old personality when it is YOU who made me become everything I always swore I would NEVER be?!! To tell me that you HATE the person I've made you become although it is III who was fixed, altered, edited, re-shaped to fit your damn satisfaction and LOVED IT because I thought it made you happy?!!!!
It is you who put us where we are today. Your lies are the reason we are standing on the debris of a broken-down relationship. You lead me on to believe that if I become a person who wanted nothing but YOU we would both be happy and then you tell me you are miserable! It is you who made me become this person - this person who always misses you, always comes to you seeking help, always expects you to be there and it is YOU who now say you are UNHAPPY.
I forgive you. But you shall too, for who I'm about to be. I am simply sick of changing so much then treated like I haven't at all. If I'm going to be called horrible either way, why bother being good? It will only break me when I find no gratitude! Forgive me for I am about to become the person you once hated. Atleast then when you criticize me I won't hate you for being unfair.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Another Goodbye

Today, I said goodbye to the person who my life revolved around for the past 7 months. Today, I spent the last day with him before another plane takes him away from me again. I woke up, got dressed and realized that for the last time - for a long time - I would be getting clothed knowing I will see his beautiful face...That face that sent a rush of comfort down my lungs, unsettling my breathing in the most wonderful way. I went down, opened the car door and there he sat. Everything was magnified today – his smile, the sun rays that hit his face making it glow and those features that conveyed sweet mischief. I was okay. I still had him. We sat in a cafĂ© and talked for hours until it hit me…I won’t be having that again. Everything felt a hundred times better than it used to. The feel of his hand holding mine felt safe…just like the first time we ever held hands. His laugh seemed to make the world a happier place…just like the first time it took me by surprise making me feel like it was my goal in life to keep him smiling. And his warmth...The heat emanating from his body while I sat next to him, warming my entire soul and taking my breath away. That was when I lost it. That was when my vision started blurring and my cheeks went on fire. That was when I began to feel this strong ache in my heart. You know, the kind that makes you feel that this organ within you is a human being torn into pieces; that unbearable pain that makes you gasp for breath? That was it. In an instant as if telepathic, he looked at me. I kissed his hand and told him I was okay. “I would be okay”, those were my exact words. But I knew I wouldn’t. I would not sense my lips pressing on his palm again. I would not see the sun hitting his face, making it shine. I would not get to touch his face when he had that irresistible laugh and I wouldn’t be seeing it anytime soon. So, NO! I AM NOT OKAY. How could I be? How will I be when I open my eyes every morning knowing that my life is void of him? I am not okay. All is not well. In fact, nothing at all is well.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Parasympathetic Wound

        Phase one: Struggle. For some bizzare reason, the me who used to drift asleep the second her head hits the pillow now wrestles to find a moment of rest. I became accustomed to my uninvited guest - insomnia - and so, I stayed up consuming my time in nothingness until my eye-lids felt like they were being forced shut by some superior power. Occasionally, I even pushed it until I got that piercing sting in the corners of my eye...you know, the one you get when you haven't slept for days? That's when I usually took the decision to finally go to bed, certain that I will face no troubles to go to this land of peace that I longed for so much. Nevertheless, the moment my head hit that plumped up pillow, I instantly become wide awake. It's like a rush of emotions, really, surging through my body. My eyes suddenly become unable to close, my breathing goes just three bits less smoother and I begin sensing bricks piling up on my chest - constricting my breathing even more. But that is only phase one of the daily episodes I've been seeing.
        Phase two: Hallucinations. As much as I loathed the previous struggles with breath and sleep, I loathed the next even more; for after hours of restlessness, I go semi-unconscious. Asleep yet awake, I begin to dream of things that I know are dreams..see things I know are not real and the thing is..my eyes are half-open. I can see my room shaded with those visions of mine - visions of myself being pushed against walls, bounced upon grounds, hitting the ceiling with my head and dropping down only to be bounced right back up. And...you get it. The cycle continues.
        Phase three: Paralysis. I'm never fully asleep to envision what I see as an actual dream and never awake enough to stop seeing what I see and feeling what I feel. It's like I've been caged in between bars of torture, I have the key out but I just don't have the strength to unlock that door.
        Phase four: I wake up. It always feels the same way. A headache so strong I could be suspected of a hangover. A body that feels battered after all the injuries I've been put through. Bloodshot eyes that only confirm they have not been shut for so long. And a damned attitude of someone disturbed, restless and impatient. An attitude of an insomniac. An attitude of a hallucinator.
        An attitude of someone with a wound that only seems to throb in the dark, only awakens in the cold silence and goes asleep in the morning, waiting for nightfall to revive yet again. 

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Wallowing In Self-Pity

Every now and then I hear a success story...a friend who got published, an acquaintance who opened her own magazine, a stranger who took his love to photography and turned it into a profession at a very young age ... and I frown. I pity all the things I always left undone. Never did I try to develop my photography. Never did I attempt to develop my writing or think of it as "professional material". Never did I consider that my creativity in design could actually progress into a work of art. And so, I always left midway. I'd always think "that's as far as I'll ever get". And now, here I stand..watching people fade away into the horizon and I stand still..with talents wasted because I never dared to dream.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

You Are All Outsiders To Him

A man who goes to war
Comes back a distant man,
Comes back a changed man
That you can not hope to understand.

A man who comes from war
Has seen what true terror's like..
Has looked death in the eye
And come back.

A man who had gone to war
Had gone with many
And come back with few
And thats what makes it so hard for you
To understand.

All the change he hoped to make
Seems lost amidst the lives raked

All the men he called his brothers
Were lost to the others

All the life he saw since birth
Was diminished by burnt bodies..
By men that have been cut in half..
By farewells said with a gasping breath
And a prayer he had to say on their behalf

Before they were gone..
Before he was gone..

Leaving behind a man inside of him-
A scarred man,
A battered man,
A man that you will never understand.

Choices

"I will go to the land of freedom
and be free to become who I choose to be"
That is what I told myself..


"I will challenge minds with the words I write
I will feed those whom hunger keeps them up at night
I will shoot every image with a new point of view
I will work every minute, take advantage of everything I can do"


"I will go to places I've never been
I will see everything I have never seen
and never will I forget hospitals and orphanages
I will visit the ill, the unfortunate"


those were the empty words
the promises
the vows I took upon myself a hundred times


With certainty I awaited
to become the self-accomplished version of myself


Two years later,
here I am..
more vacant of a person than I was back then


with one major difference


Two years ago, I had no choice.
Today, I am who I chose to be.
So much for certainty.

You've made your bed..Lie in it.

When you start to wonder
when all the years went under
why you're left alone
with friends that have disowned you
take a look in the mirror
it was all your doing

when you go to sleep at night
and all the thoughts race and fight
and the truth you submerge deep within
starts to unravel itself and undim for you
take a look in the mirror
it was all your doing

when you start to grow old
in shape but not in soul
and find that you're alone
with friends that have actually grown

grown too old to deal with your high school acts
grown too old to listen to you, defend or attack
grown too old and now you're just someone they once knew
cause they've grown too old to even know someone as small as you

take a look in the mirror
you chose to remain in junior high
all your fibs are no longer lies

take a look in the mirror
and see what they see
the teen-ager you were
the one you'll forever be

and know that it was all your doing

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Writer's Block

sleep.
beep beep beep.
wake up
it's time
you're going to work on a rhyme
that talks about love
or hate
or friends
or maybe about making amends
lets make it about politics
or starvation
maybe something about
your growing frustration
or perhaps about that sight you just saw
try to describe it in words so raw
how about you write
just about what you know.
no inspiration?
what does that mean
you've always been a reader, a writer
and everything in between
the words arent expressive?
well, make them
isnt that what you always do?
what on earth do you mean
"you lost what made you you?"
you had a talent, where did it go?
you can't just say that you dont know
you see things everyday
and you feel all these things
how can you not turn them
into a piece of anything?
your writings used to be heartfelt,
strong and pure
how can you just believe
you've become an amateur?
tear this paper
let go of that pen
do as you wish
but what do you have left then?
just a weak unfinished story
of what you once had
a talent you let go
a writer gone bad.

In The Game of Love

We eyed the board game as we played
Silently, eachother we dared
Challengingly, we rolled the dice
And that was when our cards were laid

Darling, when did we become foes?
When did our talks turn into rows?
When did we stray from the path of love
to hit a bottom rock in the deep lows?

Honey, we used to be friends
Why don't we start making amends
Relax those shoulders and take a breath
instead of taking this obstinate defense

All i need is to understand
When did my voluntary supply turn to an un-willing demand
Why did you ball your fists so tight
When it used to be me and you, hand-in-hand

Who cares who wins, love? this is so lame
Why be wild when we can be tame
I'm sorry, I'll stop, I will say no more
I just wanted to remind you, this is just a board game

Channels of Emotion

Photographs! Poems! Quotations! Songs! Give me any form of human expression and I will tumble over and backwards. Any fragment of life simply puts me at awe. And isn't that really what these all are about?

A photograph can capture a certain moment..a look of longing..a sad shimmer in the eye of someone who is so tired of saying Good-byes.

Quotations. Just one line that could sum up all the words you were trying so hard to speak out but couldn't.

Songs. It's that heart-breaking song you come across only to realize that it exactly describes your emotion at that very moment better than you ever will be able to. Or that bubbly song you coincidentally listen to and feel like the singer had known what was keeping you down and knew exactly what to say to turn that around.

Then comes poetry...poetry that I have adored ever since I was a child. Nothing could come close to the sensation of feeling bricks being lifted off my chest as I unleash those words into paper. It's like a clean slate. Once it's all out there, it's like you've rid yourself of your sins that have been burdening you and suddenly..it becomes easier to breathe. It's that same exact feeling you get when you've done something horrible to a friend and no body in the entire world knows. It consumes you and eats you up, making it difficult to smile, to laugh from your heart or to feel like you're a good person. Then you meet your friend and spill it all out. She tells you it's okay..she tells you where you've gone wrong and what you've done right. You know the moment after? That deep breath that you feel like you haven't had in so long? That's me when I write.

I can breathe!

Going Under

In my dreams
I see lands collapsing
a population gasping
for fresh air to breath
for a nile that has gone dry
for conditions so wry
and a nation lapsing

In my dreams
people struggle for plain bread
underpaid and underfed,
they struggle for nickles and pennies
for a son who's crying
a family that's dying
barely hanging to life with a thread
In my dreams

I see lights going out
I hear shrieks and shouts
and endless disappointment
from a country that has given them sorrow
forgotten the leaders of tomorrow
a country in drought

I wake up
but I still see it all
men feeling so small
women weak and crawling
while big boys are lingering
in a masquerade ball

They pull the string
to a benefit of theirs
to a line of identical heirs
watching their so-called people..collapse
their once oh-so-glorious nation, feed on scraps

What else is left of us?
The nation has already lapsed.

Death Due To Natural Causes

A book was open and the first line read:
"Once upon a time, they were in love", it said
The wind passed by and the last page appeared
"They just woke up one day and it was dead"

And within the plot, the author quoted
"To him, I was once devoted"
"His name, once defined bliss"
"However, our relationship still floated"

On the surface they always smiled
But it was different, what was deep inside
They boasted their ever-continuing loving patience
while in their subconscious, the flaws compiled

This is not a story with a happy ending
It is a fractured tale that truly needed mending
It is the story of an emotional fluctuation
that is stuck on the low and still pending

A book was open and the first line read:
We loved eachother so much. That is what it said
Why don't you fix it then? Why not repair the broken?
"Because one day we woke up and the love was dead".