sunday

12/17/2017

it’s a rainy sunday today and i’m up earlier than usual. why is it when i don’t have to wake up by a certain time, i wake up anyway even without an alarm and am also as wide eyed as possible and completely awake. come monday this feeling changes. i’ll be hitting the snooze like several hundred times and i’d get up at the very last second of the point of no return. i stayed in bed as long as i could, pillow over my face to block out any hint of sunrise (it was around 4 a.m.) and was thinking of everything. i ruminate on my conversations of the past days and i analyze to make sure i got things right and i haven’t imagining.

it’s 4 a.m. and i want to fall asleep to the cleansing rain. i’m listening to the light tip tip tip sounds when the raindrops were hitting my window pane. i’m listening to the quiet between the rainfall and i can’t help wondering, what do i like more; the silence between the rain or the sounds of the rain itself. it’s so wonderful and i’m imagining myself somewhere in a magical mysterious land, where everything is so serene and peaceful and all i could hear is the gentle breeze and take in the grassy sceneries and no humans in sight. the inbetween silence is growing wider and i think rain is dwindling away and it’s like this negative space i’m sliding into; the suburbia gives the illusion of a quiet suburbia when it cloaks itself with night but it screams itself into a city in the morning.

for the past few days it’s been super cold and windy and all of the city of philadelphia clung to my body an inch thick and no matter how much i bathe, it won’t come off.

i have an intelligent brain and heart, and i know what it means to live. everything else has been a wonderful, indulgent embellishment. i have the deepest affection for intellectual conversations. the ability to just sit and talk philosophically, logically about things i care and cherish; life, love, death, kittens, anything or about everything. little complexities of life which paint with a palette of glorious colors. i was in love with a boy once; he played his piano for me. told me to close my eyes when he played and to tell him what i felt or what color i saw. i lied to him as i didn’t see any colors lol. i spent wee hours of the second day of a new year, under the moon, with him, huddled in comforters, thinking i’ve all the time in the world, and everything around us slowed down, bound by no obligation, to speak without regret or fear of consequence. to talk for hours and about what’s really important in life. later that year, i lost him.

i became mute. people around me think i’m shy and i want to shake them hard and tell them no i’m not. i’ve been silent for a long time but i’m full of everything and anything and i’m brimming over with so many things to say but i forgot how to say it.  i have always been dependent on my loneliness & my sadness which became utter depression when he died. how hollow i felt ! always just about six feet under the ground and feeling dead in my skin. and i kept thinking and relying on the seasons to tell me what to feel and i acted accordingly. i tried to be bubbly in spring, utterly naked with the falling of autumn leaves, and dutifully depressed during cold, grey winters.

i haven’t clicked my shoes three times and called out ‘there is no place like home’ but god has been good and everything turned out ok. i’m reviewing my past and when i looked back at her, i still think she’s a stranger, immature and sad. she looked like a photo of someone i once knew but am trying to remember.

in a few minutes i’ve to get out of my bed & get myself into the gym. it’s very easy for me to get lost into my solitude and in the labyrinths of my ribs. i like cuddling my soft kittens as a form of assurance. cats are like the furry version of balls of sunshine to play with on a dank drizzly day like this. well, bonjour !

update: later in the day, i watched patriots and steelers and wow, what a game !! patriots are my boys and i am thrilled for them and the upcoming superbowl !

 

finding myself

12/15/2017

i kept crawling on the edges and hiding in the curtains for so long, and i keep laughing. it’s impossible to classify how many different kinds of laughter there are, but sometimes you mean and sometimes you laugh and you don’t mean and then there’s the ones you feel and the one’s you don’t. on my birthdays i laugh as hard as one should laugh on that day as that is such a monstrous joke. decades worth of yelling and screaming, growing and running, feeling and tears. here i am once again lying on my stomach on my red (egyptian) cotton bed sheets, and laughing like i was happy. like i was a while ago and now what seems like another life.

this may be the low or it may be the calm before (or was it after ?) the storm. the storm of happiness. the storm of growth. the storm of love. i found you and you made me whole, and you fixed the cracks in my heart, and stimulated my brain into happiness. very few made me wonder how on earth i’d ever felt that empty, that scared, that completely alone. there was more joy and feeling behind my laughter than i’d ever known possible. i felt fixed and i felt healed and i felt whole. instead of wondering what i was missing, i wondered how i had gotten so lucky. things i wanted to happen started happening, and the concept was so foreign that i felt like it wasn’t possible. floating in a sea of blue eyes, smiles, and glances, of shared ideas and shared moments, and way more than one too many coincidences.

i never believed in fate before, and i shouldn’t have wanted to after i met you. this is love, but some people call it fooling yourself, and it was introduced to me by you. i shook its hand, but nothing further. you touched my hand, but nothing more. i let you touch my heart, but that’s on me, not you. apparently all those fireworks i saw were for my eyes only, or you were just hiding your eyes. call it destiny, fate, old-fashioned coincidence, or look up a study pertaining to why human beings make something out of nothing. and i thought there is hope, but i know it’s one-sided.

the funny thing about healing is that it comes from within our own, singular minds. we may think we need other people to save us, but i know now that’s all just smoke and mirrors. we believe what we feel to be true. but truth has no interest in making us feel whole. truth takes us and breaks us, fragments our hearts, destructs the careful realities we have constructed in our minds to make us happy.  my thoughts can save me but my thoughts can kill me as well. truth and belief are no friend of each other when we are talking about peace of mind. believe what i can while i can, because here i am again, lying in bed and i haven’t been happy in months.

we don’t need other people to make us feel whole, but we believe that we need other people to make us feel whole. and that’s because i am still human