22 Jun 2016

Orange Room

I remember the times. Those far away times. Those remote times when I felt content in myself. I was single. Longing for a relation that captures my soul and spirit. I was hopeful of this dream. To realise myself. To realise my being. To be liberated. Through a real deep love. Real deep state of being that will help me unleash all what I have. I was hopeful. I had hope.

I remember the room I used to sit in. Write. Blog. Talk. Spend my time. Looking to the walls. Talking to myself. Writing. Writing. My feelings were present. Even though there was nothing there. The loneliness and solitude brewed my feelings and made me ripe. Made me full of passion and hope. Yes hope. Hope that one day a deep pure love will take over me and carry me through all my sweet pains. And deep longing. I was hopeful of a connection. A real one. That can see through me. Penetrate me deep to where I know I exist. In this depth I survive. And I was proud. Proud of myself. Proud of these hidden gems I thought I carried. Once carried. Again longing to be explored. And I was waiting. Waiting and waiting. Full of hope. Full of certainty that I will find it. and when I do, I promised myself I will be like a drunk Sufi. Totally mesmerised in this love. In this love I will find existence. My own. I will call it my own.

And I will find home. Home that I have been chasing for the longest time. For the same hope to unveil myself. To explore my being. To unleash my potential. I think I needed help. Yes, probably that was it. I needed help. A help that was embedded in the love. A help that came from someone I totally loved. Loved because he fully understood me more that I even did to myself. A love that saw me completely. Behind my masks and my wounds and my ego, there was this hope that I will be seen. Yes again. I longed to be seen.

And I thought I found it. And I did as I promised. I gave away all myself to that love. Stopped my life for years for this love. The certainty was deep and anchored. When I met him, it was like meeting myself. Yes it was like that. This feeling that I was exactly looking for. In this moment when we just caught a glimpse of one another a deep realisation has always been ignited. Rekindled. It was a connection of a soul level. And it was not an illusion. It was real. At that time. Very real. It was able to dissolve stagnant mountains. Fear. Properness. Yes it was real. It almost pierced through all the boundaries and opened us, and me particularly, to new frontiers. To new possibilities. To promised realm. We even thought that we were really connected in heaven. But doesn't every one think like that. Well, at that time we thought we were unique. And maybe we are. But for sure we now we are not.

I am now buried under deep weight of loneliness. Still in struggle to find my space and my place. My place amongst these walls. In this space of what seems to be prison to me. This space that I escaped to when it was empty to gather myself and heal the cracks with a smile that this place will witness a born of  me  But it didn't . It failed me or I failed it. Or we both failed one another.

If I am ever able to put down what I really feel it will be too painful for me to express. To express the numbness I feel. The isolation I experience. The boredom that eats me alive. Day in. Day Out. The deep yearning to disappear. It does feel like a prison. A life sentence. With heavy duty. No mercy. No love. Only ego. Arrogance. Punishment. Coldness. No matter how I try, I came to the realisation that in this space, I am no body. No body to him. Nothing to him. And the minute I talk I am assured that I am alone. Alone in my endless suffering. Of what exactly? I do not really know. There is a link missing. A communication gap. Lost in the space and the void. The void that eats up my heart. Bit by bit. I cant really take the coldness I have to admit. I really cant take it. Really cant. Unable to live with it. and I am unable to have peace with it. It kills me. On a deep level. And I am not that strong or composed or cool to play along and live through this. Pretending. Or planning. Or pretending. Or even looking at the practical cause. Pragmatically and pretend that I will give my life to that cause. And in doing that, I will suck in all the pain I feel. All the loneliness that engulfs my passion. Turned me from this passionate being into a numb person. Sucked in the driving. In the coldness. In the pretending. Suffocated with the labelling and the judging.  In the calculation and drawing of who I am and who I am not. Counting all my expression. Words. Spoken and unspoken.

4 Nov 2014

So I'm back to the old trips and the annoyance it impose on me. I hate going there. Hate everything about it and in it. I feel squeezed in space, literally, and in realm. Fake. Cautious. Anticipating. Watched. Feared. And I feel like a stranger. Well I am. And will always be. And I have no one to turn to. Or talk to. Sunk in my dark feelings and thoughts. Counting the minutes till I leave. This time it's not only myself whom I'm trying to hide in but it's June and August who are following me everywhere even if I try to escape. I became resisting to all this relation and what it entails and expects of me.

I face a swinging feeling between wanting to continue and really feeling suffocated by it. Totally. By him specifically. After all these years I realised that we are so different. Maybe we have a connexion but day-to-day level, we fail miserably. I get annoyed by almost every gesture and every tone. Sarcastic and unforgiving. I see only the bad in him. Haunted with the thought and conclusion of his selfishness. Convinced of his soft power to manipulate me to do what he wants. Sensitive to his attempts to intimidate me. Softly. And every time he did it, I take notes and postpone my move. Swearing to myself that if I decided to intimidate him I will actually damage this relation for good. With no return.

Deep in me I'm resentful. Disengaged. Swinging. Pending. Waiting for the next thing to happen. Not sure what it is. But I'm waiting for it. I think I'm annoyed by his arrogance. Turned off by his selfishness. Bored by his stubbornness and almost stupid way of doing things and his subtle judgement of who I'm and how I do things.


Once said that the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. Did I reach there?  I feel so. As if I am struggling to keep myself interested. To keep myself in this house and in this relation and this family. It has become a struggle. An uphill effort that keeps me from enjoying. Keeps me from wanting to wakeup in the morning. Keeps me from an ability to smile. To feel light. Rather sarcastic. Empty. As if there is a vacuum inside of me. No energy to take me through. No desire to smile or play or even accept or deliver a joke. I became too serious. Too ridiculous. Too isolated from the happening to the emptiness. Looking with a cold eye to what is surrounding me; to the supposedly happy events to mean more commitment and more work and more soul-level effort. 'I can't handle all that', I tell myself. Not that i am ungrateful but because I am really bored. 

Bored from him. From her. From them. From me. Not even interested in explaining what happened. Not hopeful for a solution. Treat it with the same inner sarcasm or scepticism I developed around us. This concept that was created once a decade ago. Dissolved and took a different shape. Not interested in reviving it again. It was a figment of our own imagination that no one is interested in reviving it again. What for?

3 Oct 2014

From within

I really can not take it. I am Bored. Angry. Annoyed. I still have not changed my mind about how I want it to change. I seem to not being able to do the switch back. Drifting. And I'm actually seeking for more drifting. I seem to not wanting it ti work. Not interested. Not in the kin. Not in the chef.

31 Jul 2014

Coffee and Cheese

This has become my new favourite place here. I go to it almost every day. I get a coffee that  I never manage to finish or drink a lot from. It is coffee of the day. Normal brew. But I claim it is the best coffee of the day I have ever tasted. I love to just walk browse the selves and smell the natural aroma of the shampoo and soap section. Reminds me of Terry, my friend from Oregon who just won't use anything non-organic. 

Last time, June and I were just about to leave when a tornado started and the generous rain soaked us. It was great feeling. The rain drops were actually bulky and full-bodied. Close to their coffee. Of course the coffee got cold. I still put it in the car next to the previous ones with the hope that i will finish it later… something that I should by now realise that it never happens.

No matter how many times I share the experience. Share the large assortment of cheese existing. The coffee experience. It all falls on deaf ears. I initially receive no comment. And later I hear a question that shows that nothing of what I have shared resonates with him. So I stopped. 

I keep reverting back to this 'stopping' act on my behalf. Sometimes it feels I am revisiting my decision. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. For sure I am not, just giving myself more evidence that I am taking the right decision. Pulling out more evidence of my need to proceed.  Convincing myself that it is time to move out and away. Time to be like before.

I guess I was much happier. Happier because of the emotional independence. Happier because on the long distance, there was once a hope and a longing to be together and what this aspiration bring. 

It brings nothing. It brings nothing. Added nothing. Only despair and anger.


I realised that things are turning away from the perfect look that I once imagined and aspired to. It becomes more pragmatic, practical and distant. Same as the previous life. Probably will end like the previous one but this time with much more luggage to care for and adjust to. And with this will come the pain and the compromise. It might not be like the previous in taking different physical turns, but it will be deeper. A separation on the spirit level. Given the once claimed deep connexion we once had, it will be serious.

I am sitting here overlooking the golf course. June is busy with taking her long bath. Minutes after June and him ended the talk, I realised that I have no place among them. By choice. By design. By intention. I separate myself. And I do that by simply not responding to the fake gestures or polite invitation to engage. I can tell the boredom and the need to end the conversation and I let him go. I invite him to end the connexion and he gladly accepts this invitation with no hesitation. I smile in sarcasm. I still know you too well but this time I am deciding to not fight back or try to bring you closer. I realise it is a choice you have made for all the practical reasons and self-making. Does not matter to me. It is now time that I proceed as well. No matter how I see where these decisions will take us, but it becomes inevitable to go further. First realisation is me holding my stance and, not as usual, dismiss and fake my feeling of connection 'on demand' to avoid him feeling rejected.

Well, this is the beginning I suppose. I can see where the next years will shape up.

For the two of us.

For the four of us.

8 Jun 2014


So June's birthday was all planned behind my back. Planned to have me not included. Planned to have me not attending. More than the real intention of the birthday, which is June herself. In fact, June herself was abused to prove a point and inflict anger. Part of their selfeshness and stupidity. Yes, June might have been super happy. Naive and light. Totally absorbed in the moment. But in the future when she is sober, she will ask. I hope you will find an answer to this by then. Not worried about that actually. Indeed another manipulation will be put to use.

4 Jun 2014


So today I entered John's to get my coffee and he was sitting there. Working on his sheets as usual. Or planning his next move. Or lamenting his destiny. Or whatever. Does not matter what he was doing. It is probably anything but wasting his time in the trivial aspects of his life. I looked at him for a moment. Placed my classical order. Waited until it was finished and left. Did not go to his table to greet him or say hi. 

While waiting, I remembered when I used to enter any place and search for him. Search for his face in exasperation for comfort. The moment I saw his face, I would automatically smile. And in most cases, he would feel my presence and look in my direction. It was a remote longing and an intimate connexion despite the proximity and the barriers. We were closer to each other than any soul would imagine. It even surprised us. 

Later, when we were together, we continued on the same habit. That time we would have a big smile on our faces and we would go straight to one another and exchange a profound kiss. A sincere happiness to see and meet one another although we would have just left.

But wait a minute, now I remember, it was always me who will spot him and go straight to him. It was me who had the big smile and the passionate kiss. It was actually me. He would always smile and take a quick glimpse to check the surrounding. But to me, who cares. Regardless of how long or short ago we had left one another, but I was always happy to see him. Even when we were not on good terms, I would just go straight and smile. As if is a new moment and a real desire to see him. 

Now I do not want to see him. I look to his face and trace the kind features that used to exist. Not found. The calm sad look that was full of hope and despair. Not found. A loving glimpse that checks where I am at, and was ready to forgive. Not found. The real desire to live and delve into the creeks of my presence. To know me. To explore me. To be with me. Not found. All that now got replaced with a tired face. A serious look. A cold feature. An occupied mind. Not with the person that shares his space, but with something. He is not here. And he does not want to be here. And I do not want him to be here too.

We enter. Me and June. And he would greet her. Forgetting about me. Shower her with attention and love. Ignoring me. I would just take myself off the scene and go to the kitchen hang the purple bag or wash the tired face of mine. I wonder why the ignoring. Initially I wondered. Then I get used to. Later on I just start building my own wall. Start thinking of a different path.  Start exercising my own skill of forming a bubble. WIth lots of tension and force to fold its wall together. I needed that. And then by time, this water bubble became my space. I would sit with him for hours and not say a word. And he did the same.

It became a dull encounter. The more I stayed, the more I felt ignored. And the more I ignored him. I focused of pleasing June initially out of love, then out of duty. Then now I can not do either. She reminded me of my failure to handle many tasks; of his failure to support me; of our vacuum that engulfed all the space that once existed between us. All the hopes and dreams got muted. Got lost.

Nothing to share. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to dream of. No tolerance for the other existence. No space of even our spirits to connect. How can I connect with him if I am unable to connect with myself.

31 May 2014

First attempt

So she finally said it in a semi suffocated irritated tone. A relief to part of the anger she had been feeling for the past year and half. Initially she mumbled with annoyance ' ...you will never move to close this machine.' He must have heard or guessed her saying that. But seriously how ridiculous this while thing is. She's almost collapsing from fatigue and errands; he sitting on the sofa doing nothing, the machines screams but in vain. As if nothing is happening. Why does she have to go turn it off every single time! And now he eats the ice cream and the loakers and leave the empty containers on the kitchen' table! Why?

' I know you don't love me and all but have some mercy....' Indeed, have some freaken mercy. You are always doing this. It's her turn now to tell you: ' you are such a liability...' Worst type of liability actually. A taker by all means.

At least she said it finally. Not sure why is she reluctant to share what she felt. It's not that she's scting wise and hiding her feeling,  but could be an inability of self express herself verbally. Maybe because he will beat her in that as usual so it's a lose battle there.. And it is.

I truly think it's not going to go far. Too much stress that is causing everyone of them to research in his old papers.

For her, it's indeed unbearable. On the brink of despair.

30 May 2014


I can't really blame it all on June. Yes, she is a factor but not all the factors. Maybe she helped accelerate the process. To reveal aspects that was hidden and stagnant beneath the surface of the connexion. The location as well did play its turn and unites with June against me.

When June arrived, I was already in a floating state still discovering the depth of the connexion. Although the connexion had promised and had hopes that it would be a strong, astounding one, but a little while into it, it did not really seem as it promised. It was like any other. Had its ups and downs, as well as, its silent moments. I think it was a normal thing to happen, but given what this deal had promised, it was underachieving.

Looking back and looking now, I can surely say that it is not successful. And I am daring myself to say and declare that it will not be. June, although an accelerator to this desitny, but it is what's holding it from falling so quickly.


I am sitting here. Alone. Finally I would say. There are lots of things I need to catchup on with myself but I have no time. Or energy. Or will. Or even desire. Escaping and be alone have become my target. Everyday target. As if it becomes my only objective now. When I am 'finally' alone, I do not sleep, although I so need it. I just sit alone in this miserable place look at the mess around. How everything is crooked and twisted. Unorganised and misplaced. Unclean and uncared for. Empty fridge and stacked garbage. Lots of items here and there that are not taking any shapes nor promising any direction. Rich view but with poor interior and with what resides inside.

1 May 2014

T: 'Who knows maybe the next trip you will come with me to visit these countries.'
S: 'You never know. You might be surprised.'

And he meant it as a sarcasm to the countries he was proposing she will be visiting with him when he takes the new post. And she meant it as a decision that she had already done with herself. She is definitely not going to be joining him. Anywhere. Sounds like she had made her mind and deciding where she will do next. What will happen next. How she will proceed next. All in the next phase. For the now, it will remain stagnant for the time being until the delivery occurs. Before and after that she will remain silent. Maintain her distance. Saluting their break and disconnection that now became part of their daily routine.

What really happened between them was not expected on some level. It could have been blown out of proportion; been initiated as a joke then took a different dramatic direction. Or just a phase. I personally think it is not a phase. It is a real situation that was initiated and got bigger and serious and no one thought to cut through it and heal. The end result is what it is now. Gloomy. Distant. Cold. Sickness. Bitterness. And more important, Boredom.

Boredom I totally understand. And the combination looks scary. But this is what becomes a fact out of this relation. It started well. Moved on limping. Going down silently. And will halt soon. No more Vroom Vroom. Only beep beep. A signal that gets lost in the midst of the endless reminders and requests.

21 Apr 2014


I was introduced to Anais by a friend of mine. I am not sure why she chose this writer to recommend to me. Her reasoning was that I write like her. Some similarity between us. I start reading a bit. Her books were censored because of the high sexual content and more so because she was a lesbian. Not a direct announced lesbian, but a clear inclination to the love of female.

During my last visit to Cairo, I went to my room and searched for one of her books. I never actually read her books to the end, but i remember that I would read a lot of Anais. The similarity is there for sure. Not particularly in the way I write, but probably in the self-dialogue and the endless search for a space and place; the dilemma between being found and getting lost again; the continuous desire to see and pierce through the self of one and others. Not sure where did life took Anais, the real one, but she sure had an unhappy life. But this was her choice. Or fate? Not very sure.

June and I. More than just about Anais and the searched-for resemblance between me and her. It is since the arrival of June in one's life that things do change. Matters turned upside down and inside out. Lots of things were revealed and lots of unease was released. Released not to vent but rather to expose. Real sides of everyone's hidden masks torn a bit from here and there. True characters, not only of June's lovers but also of me. I discovered a lot about myself through the exposure to June. Not all good. Well, or bad though. June became a symbol of the mirror that reveals sides of the real truths. The many layers that were peeled through the continuous rubbing of her image against me and others. Rubbing against one another. It turned the volcano on. Not yet to erupt but to brew. To enter in this rhythmic, pendular motion that goes on and off. Not helping in anything other than expediting the creation of deep rooted scars and permanent lines in the elastic face.

What had June helped me create was a second self. Another me. A distant one that is bored, boring, uninterested, and detached. Hardly connects and hardly wants to belong to her circle. A duty oriented solider fighting for a foreign soil and for the wrong purposes. A solider who felt betrayed by the very own general. Who no more trusts his own weapon. A solider who, on my occasions, wish to turn his own pistol not towards his enemy but to his own heart. A solider who looks to his own kin and camp and does not remember what brought him here. Pretends everyday to be with them. Wishes for the day to end. Hates when another day starts. And in this day and night cycle, he lost his own desire to find what he had lost, that he once cherished so dear and so near.

27 Nov 2013

Struggle on all levels

I found my relieve. A temporary one.  I was able to find home away from home and home. Did not have to search far. I just tapped inside. Looked around. And designed it for myself. It changed my approach to things. Made me more free when I was there. I liked to go there against all odds. Surprising myself and others. I go there and I am free. Regardless of all the walls and the regulations, I was free. I can claim that I was the only one free there. I find my space. I find home and I was free.

Free in this 8-3 timeframe. Only. Between this slot. Before and after I switch back. To inner silence. Broken connection. Sole dialogue. Monologue. I enter the duty mode. The delivery mode. Almost switching places. I deliver where i am supposed to be connecting; and connected where I was supposed to deliver. But it was the only way to survive. When you feel lonely. Alone. Isolated. On your own. You need to find an exit. To carve one. To survive. Remember after all I am 'water.' I find my way. And I carve my space.

Then you get bored.

Bored from the continuous focus to stop you. To force you to deliver and connect in the right order. And it does not work. The connection start to overwhelm you. The delivery start to expedite. ANd in between you feel again squeezed.

The problem is not in the toggling between both situations. Or both expectations. It is the realisation the need to be somewhere else.

I always thought and feel that I should be somewhere else. WIth no one. Just with me.

16 Sept 2013

Something in me has to change. Internal. This wound. This scar. This deep flip. Maybe I need to be more pronounced. Stop the fake or even real politeness. To maybe learn from you. Be apathetic. With a cool mind. Detached. I will try to learn from you. Do as my enemies do. Play their tricks. Maybe. 

Now I'm in this stage. Need to reevaluate. Done that before. Many times. Nothing much had changed. Hate to see myself lose. Can't wait. Can't be patient. My firey nature jumps ahead of me.  Patience is not my thing. And I think it's too late to be. 

Now I'm towards the indifference. With him I'm now. I am numb. And I think it will get worse.

I think I might be depressed. Been for sometime. Hide behind many things. And will continue to do that as long as I'm not finding myself again.

Remind me when did I last find it?

30 Aug 2013


Not sure how to not remember you. Or how to actually remember you.

Last time I called I felt sad. Stayed a while after we hung up. I still remember it. You thanked me for calling you. You said that you missed me. And I missed you back then. The next time I called you you never answered me. And I think you will never do.

I remember you with all the memories that I shared with you. Not sure if you would ever knew how I felt. How I cherished those moments we spent together. The little ones. All there. Locked within me. Shared it with myself. Replayed it over and over.

Wish you knew how I never forgot you. How engraved is our little time within me. How little they were. How deep they remained.

You were a good man. And I so loved you.

3 Aug 2013

Switching TV

He keeps switching the TV channel all the time. Toggles between the different programs once a break happens. Annoying. I get distracted. Lose concentration. Lose focus. Distracting. No matter how many times I tell him how annoyed I get, he makes fun of me. Hand me thd remote. Take me on a guilt trip. Of lack of assertiveness to pushing what I want when together. Play on all that and put a pinch of intimidation.

I'd probably next time just go to the other room and watch alone. Safer. Becoming the new trend.

Too bad.

27 Jul 2013


- No matter how many times the machines keep screaming announcing its end, he wouldn't lift a finger to go close it. Not in a million time.
- no matter how tired I am from the many items I'm juggling, he will remain still. Legs on the ottoman, nuts and coke in tht other watching tv
- no matter how he promised to wake up with them at dawn to play, he ends up waking at 10.
- no matter how he promised to make lunch, he will just forget or ignore.

Lots of that.
And he forgot our marriage date. Not that he missed the date, which is ok,but he didn't even remember. What a sign. He should believe me when I say it's a sign. Sign of negligence.

Not for long.


I sit now alone. Deep in my thoughts. In my boredom. My anger. Sadness. Exhausted and annoyed. Trapped in my own thoughts that are all destructive. Secretly waiting for a way out. Anticipating an escape. Planning. Something inside me tells me that I won't last here for long. I won't last long. I know that. It was a mistake. I am now sure. It could be the whole institution that I detest. But also the members. I don't belong with them. I changed. Probably. Doesn't matter. What's matter now is that there's no connection anymore. If there is one its a exhausted one. Losing its spirit. So we chose to store it somewhere safe with a hope that we will restore its value. I played along and I know I'm not into restoring. I just discard. This is my danger side. It's dangerous to walk with me along this road even if I deduced you to taking it. Seduced by being silent. By hiding behind my silence. My strength. My random spurts. And bursts, by my indifference. Excuse me, I've got a self dialogue that I report to every year.  Managed by a woman from heaven. Listensed to if by a woman of endless love. And endless fear. Only recently did this fear came along. Previously it was only strength and love. Now fear tagged along. Could be the age factor.

Conclusion is I'm afraid to disclose how I see this isolated life. I know however that the other can sense. Not for long I suppose.

28 Jun 2013


It's a feeling of isolation. More and more.  Pushed aside. Becoming irrelevant. Feeling marginalized. Only my shadows and deputy remaining. The remote glimpse of me. And my memories. For both of us. Each in his own way. In his own pain. Realization. The fact remains that we are drifting apart. At least I'm sure of one. Certain of it. A brewing feeling of departure. A longing hope of going back. Breaking loose. I feel deceived. Betrayed. By myself and By him. Neither kept his promises. Neither honored the oath. Both ignored the present. Traced the past. Blurred is the future.

Blurred is the future because I wish no more to continue. Like this. It's a dark and gloomy as of now. Scary if I looked through this same lens and projected this life for 20 more. Or even 10. Lost is the word. Disappointment is the feeling. Help is the action. But no one will help but oneself. But where is this self.

Torn between the duty and the more duty. Dusted by being taken for granted. Suffocated by being ignored. Squeezed by being suppressed. Bored from being mute. Intimidated by being asked for explanation. Annoyed from failing to get message across. Captured in the silence and random bursts. Destructive announcement of claiming rights. Right to exist and have a breathe of fresh air. 

For now the only thought is leave. Tomorrow I will give up easily.
After tomorrow I will be squeezed again.
The day after will feel squeezed.
Burst again.

5 May 2013

L & L

She annoys me. Something in her way bothers me. She could and probably is kind and helpful but I really can't be at ease with her or around her. My first direct feeling is that I feel tensed. Irritated. Maybe because of her pretentious way of speaking. The Arabic with this accent. The know-it-all attitude. The endless talks. The endless direction to her daughter. Her speaking with her eyes and way of speaking. Acting like a man: in command even around her husband. Don't really know.

I try that when she talks I look her in the eye. But obviously I looked annoyed that it didn't help. I'm just trying to figure her out. Who she really is. Why all the fakeness or insecurity or maybe too comfortable in her skin. I doubt the latter. I saw her before coming here. Was normal. Less than normal. Now had this attitude of living a role that is not her.

It could be only me.

10 Mar 2013


It has been tough here. A different kind of toughness. Not a back bending one, rather an emotional one. It's not the place. The continent. Or the country. It's the empty spaces that surrounds us. In a slow suffocation tone. In a non challenging way. The lack of intellectual forum. And all the emotions and attitude that surrounds that. Who said living an easy life frees you to do more great stuff. All the great stuff happens in the busy streets.

28 Nov 2012


And the destiny keeps changing. With the baggage getting heavier. And the soul not any lighter. And the choice limited and limiting. Squeezing and intimidating. Urging to take an action. Urging to take an action. But the fear and the esteem is drying it up. Keeping it low. Stressing it hard. To retreat. To take a shelter. To inflate. To keep on hiding behind fakeness. Behind love. Behind connexion that no more feels like one. But rather a fake one. You will never discover it. Yet uncover it. The longer you stay the longer you will feel lost.

The mornings seem long. Juggling between all and none. With every step you are one step away from the real one. That is you. Remember you? I? Do I exist? Hell no. Not anymore.

I just realised something. A deep down wound. That takes you miles and miles back in time. When parents were around. When things were getting shaped. When soul starting to peak. But every time it did, it was pushed down deep. To this corner of the soul. That no one can see. A deep wish to disappear. Yet urging to appear. And see through the window of the heart. And enjoy the company of the soul. But it is always down there. Alone. Not seen or heard. Does not make itself heard. Or seen. It tricks everyone that comes near. Even with those who think know it all. It remains aloof. Joining in and going out. Seeking its solitude. The only time it feels like home. Searching for these moments. Stealing these ticks. No matter how it pretends. It can see where the fakness rests.

I think I was mistaken. I did not enjoy it. I did not yearn for it. I just was playing. And now I can not stop the gaming. It is getting serious. And it is getting painful. I have no choice but continue playing. Pretend I am enjoying. Pretend I am in. Deep down I am out. Totally out.

I fear the separation.

The problem is not in them. The problem is right in. In this neighbour. In this rebel that is dying out. Faced with the selfishness that scratches it and turns it down. Pretend it supports while it actually kills.

Unable to continue......

24 Nov 2012


On the margins of life. Now resting. Standing and waiting. In anticipation. In confusion. Wondering what had happened to the rebel soul. To the daring existence. To the wild aura. Something pierced through it. Melted it down. Without awe. With no respect. Just invasion. Not even barbaric. That would have been caught. Rather subtle. Like an army. An intellectual one. That never fight but rather hide. Hide within and act without. Without grace and with soul-deep impact. You realise not the change. You understand not the pain. And after many more you feel the change.

It hits right on. The centre of esteem. The heart of confidence. Crumble them down. Stomp them flat. With no music. Just plain and flat.With the apparent sarcasm. With the fake sensitivity that hides layers of arrogance. Palette of selfishness. Shades of humiliation. Apparent in every word. With every snarl. Facial or vocal. It is all snarls.

It's I to be blamed. For years I did me ill.