little bubbles of peace

Steaming coffee, beautiful Fairouz’s voice soothing into my soul, my new laptop and doing my new dream job, which I actually love and have wanted for so long.

Realization: I’m grateful.

I’m so grateful it brought tears to my eyes. I’m grateful for this moment. A moment which I paused, to revel in. I stop and think, wait, I should enjoy this. I should be grateful for this. And I am. And I think, isn’t this what happiness is almost like? Perfect little details and satisfactions that make you feel alive and thankful to be right here, right now. Then I wonder if it’s a little sad that I have to probe myself to recognize happiness. I wonder if this makes me sad, then realize that no, it doesn’t.  That there is a difference between melancholy and sadness, and that it shouldn’t be sad sad sad all the time, and that a little melancholy is ok, is fine. It doesn’t make you depressing.

Have I been mislabeling myself all this time as sad? Instead of maybe nostalgic, apprehensive or, as in this case, melancholic?. Has a limited emotional vocabulary instilled a depressing image of myself into well, myself? Could I really not be as sad as I sometimes think I am?

All these thoughts and one thing for sure, I’m grateful for right now. I’m grateful for feeling like I belong in a place somehow, a place in my head. Or feeling fulfilled in a way, even it’s just a job.

It feels good. There’s so much magic Fairouz can do to you.

the elephant in the room

Very few things feel like pain.

Its not even pain. It's that agitation coursing just below your skin. Making you feel like you need to scratch your skin off. Peel. it .off. now! It runs under your skin. Vibrating, glowing orange red. Making you miserable. Making your heart heavy. So heavy you can’t breath. So heavy you automatically don’t think about it. Flick on to something else. An incepted need for a cigarette. Or a hunger that doesn’t exist but that needs to be satisfied.right.now!

You will probably not look back to the chain of events/feelings that landed you here. Will probably forget more than choose not to. You probably blocked it out. Your mind/subconscious/etc blocked it out. Is that a self-defense mechanism you picked up during a lonely, ignored childhood? Oh sweetie!

You have all the best intentions to “fix yourself”. Heal. Find whatever the fuck it is that is keeping you miserable and standing like a concrete wall between you and feeling things. You probably make all these plans to start over. But its useless. There isn’t a place to start. To or a place to go. No map. You become like a little twirling girl in a tutu, desperately going round in circles round yourself. And calling it art. Enjoy.

Pain. Sometimes it’s not physical. Not just a heavy heart. Sometimes, it’s a hole in your soul. Sometimes it's the absence that hurts. Sometimes, you miss being something else you can’t be. Or feeling things you no longer can.

You might feel singled out. For misery. For eternal damnation. For a lifetime of cosmic bad luck. Fine. If it makes you feel better. If it helps you sleep or whatever. Just at that point, when the thought comes creeping into your bed and whispers in your ear that, perhaps, you are the one doing the singling out.

And that’s when you know; there is nowhere to go from here.

tidbits

You test my patience over and over and over. Today, I have no more room for you.

You take my kindness for submissiveness and my tolerance for helplessness. I will now take your arrogance for stupidity.

…

I have days when I wake up and feel like not moving a muscle. Just wrap my comforter around me and do nothing but breathe.

Most of these days I make myself get up, shower and go to work. But I don't leave my comforter behind. Nor do I do anything more than breathe.

…

It is such a liberating moment when you finally make up your mind about someone/something that's happened in the past/ certain life events. You finally figure out the label to put on that memory when it flashes up in your head, and know how to react then. 

Most times, you'll change your mind again every 2 months anyway.

…

Sometimes, the only plausible thing to say to you would be to go fuck yourself you asshole.

But I worry that you will only pay attention to my audacity and not to how much of an asshole you really are.

…

There are things that are pretty, and there are things that are pretty because you want them to be. 

The same could apply to who you really think you are.

flatlining

And watch your dream's slow dissection

As you push yourself from grace

Do not weep

Your alligator tears will go to waste

Beneath the crumbling ground they fall upon

Emerge from hope and life and light

To face the darkness that is your truth

And reunite with your shadow once more.

no more

I am not going to smile at you,
I am not going to force myself to be kind to you,
I am not going to force myself to be nice to you,
I am not going to consider your feelings,
I am not going to follow through with any obligation,
I am not running any errands,
I am not going to not smoke because you asked me to,
I am not going to work,
I am not going to fake aliveness just so I wouldn’t repel you.

I’m going to pray,
God knows I need someone who knows what they're doing.






The happy post can fuck it.

because you dont understand..

I was angry and hurt and I wanted to get away, from you. So I did. I needed a space without you, without the toxic effect you’ve been having on me lately and so I created the space. I went about my life, saw all the usual and not so usual friends, went to all my usual and favorite places, and did whatever I wanted when I wanted to. I redefined every part not in terms of you, but me. I took away every possibility, every chance from you to disappoint me and ended up vanishing you. I did a lot of non-bitter thinking about you, us. I had so much perspective I’m afraid it made me into the third person, remote and detached.

And I realized. I realized I can breathe without you. I realized I can live without the comfort blanket I sometimes borrow from you. I realized you are not irreplaceable; you are as irreplaceable as I make you out to be. And I realized that romanticized version of you in my head, is probably of my own making. Unreal.

I realized all these realizations and it gave me strength, it gave me confidence to make the right choices for me. It made me less susceptible to disappointment because now I have the right picture in my head. For a while, I was very Gloria Gaynor.

And then it came crashing down on my head. For not all my reason and new found wisdom could stop those... those pangs. I miss you. No matter how much unscrewing you do and all the crap I have to put up with, I miss you so much. I miss you, the you I knew and love. The you who could make my day, my week. The you who loved me back in terms I could understand, could appreciate. The you I picked and decided that fuck it I’m going to love this you and I’m not going to hold back and I’m going to make it fabulous. Make us fabulous.

I failed.

You're my home. And I'm afraid in losing you, I would lose yet another home. So I feel like screaming my head off and stamping my feet and wailing so loudly that I want it back, I want you back goddamit! Because I know, what is lost cannot be brought back no matter how many talks we have, how many promises we make or how long you pretend you’re still into this, into me.

I waited for you to prove me wrong, but I’m tired of waiting and I sometimes secretly wish you just never happened at all.

p.s, I promised myself a happy post soon!

the truths that pepper your silence

And I fail to understand. How can you love someone when they are nowhere near perfect, but not when they are?