Fighting.

I’m filled with emptiness. I’m laughing, talking, eating, sleeping, writing, but that’s all I do. I have nothing to look forward to, I feel like I’m losing my best friend and I try not to be sad about it. I try so hard, my heart cannot take it. I know I will never lose him, but I can’t have him too. He is there, but almost never here. I want to feel like I matter, like I mattered before. I want to matter to me. I want to know who I am. I want to fall asleep and dream of a better life, and never wake up.  I think I’m losing myself. 

I want to know what it feels like  to be a stronger person. 

Grieve Future, Grieve.

HERE

I don’t know what a broken heart feels like. Or maybe I do but because I feel it too often, I am incapable to differentiate it from other mere feelings of sadness or hurting. But how can sadness be just ‘mere’? Whenever I’m sad I long for an overwhelming compassion and words that are beyond the amorous movies, beyond this mortal earth. Perhaps that’s what adds to the tragedy, wanting the things I can’t have. Expectation has been my biggest let-down.

I’m afraid of the very same things that I want. Because I don’t know if it is right to want them. Happiness is best if shared, they say. But how about it when there’s nobody to share it with?

Loving someone just got uglier.

Between Mothers, Angels, and sluts.

HERE

Keeping someone else’s secret terrifies me more than my own. My relationship with KS remains embedded to where it began, while I watch everything around me and ‘us’ grow diversely. I’m uncertain as to whether I am gradually turning into my Mother or if everything around me is really as blunt as my feelings render. Most of the conversations that I have with my Mother turn into a debate. Last summer the first thing she said to me when she met me at the arrival terminal of the airport put me off and within the first 5 minutes of landing on home ground; I wanted to fly back in the same aircraft screaming. She made a senseless remark about my smoky eye makeup.

Thousands of conversations have taken place over the years and I can barely remember one where I thought her opinions were unbiased on popular demand. And after every ‘debate’ I’ve warned my older self to never turn into a cynic. Last night I got a first peek into my impending (horrifying) transformation when I convinced myself and Mimi that her ex-boyfriend will be sorry for going after a ‘slut’ who looked and sounded so much like an angel to him. Only that night, her antics were not too celestial. 

I’m a Tad too late but dropping in New Year wishes and also a Massive Thank You to everyone here for reading my blog and leaving lots of Love each time. It means so very much to me.

Thank You.

♡

I'm sorry you're you. Happy Holidays.

HERE

HERE

Till today I had been carrying a certain guilt with me because I believed in Odem when she told me I was ‘muck’, last summer on the last night at home. The misunderstanding that led to such an allegation was trivial and I was partly to blame, and even though I apologized the next day before getting on the plane, I knew she would never accept it.

I came back to the city and somehow life pushed that night a little less out of focus. It was subdued, yet very much present. Today KS called me and said something that put me at ease. He said that his cousin was an unrefined young lady who had little or no etiquette to talk to elders or anybody. He elaborated on the few things she said to his mother that was much out of line.

As he did so, I could hear her say I was muck that last summer in that callous tone. I knew what he meant because I was there too, in a similar situation with her. I never had the courage to tell him the things his cousin had told me that night because I was afraid of things I can’t explain. Today had nothing to do with me but I learnt something, being shadowed in flamboyant sanctity doesn’t make up for deficient decorum.