A Message from within

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 s

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.

It has been an off and on thought. A conviction that I keep realising from the various situations happening recently-- if a year time is considered recent-- that is never believe anyone who tells you that you are cared for. On the positive note, no one will ever take care of you more than yourself. That is, be selfish. It's a permission to be so. Probably you denied it. Now time to attain to it and embrace. In all cases we are all selfish, so why not admit it and live it. You might not be very selfish as you thought you are. Some people just are very good at doing what they want to do; convince others that they are taken care of; play on the guilt tone when in reality they care the least about anything but themselves. Which I think is by all means very legitimate. The annoying part is the manipulating aspect of it.  

Tonight is M. and myself night alone. We have been alone for sometime now. But this night is different. Consciously different. Yes we have spent a long time together. Most of it alone. But this alone is a different alone night. Maybe because it is a sad alone. Every one of us for her own reason. I know about mine. Not sure about hers. I could wonder a zillion reasons on her behalf but I am sure I will never guess right. Moreover, she will never share. Been silent for sometime. Finally, I found a silent partner. So, what we decided to do is to stay home. Eat Hefa's Clementine, product of Israel!. Coffee. Assortment of cookies and wafer. Veggie sambousak. Listen to Lorena. Watch the gloomy sky and the rainy day. The flights passing by every 15 minutes. The crazy little black and red bird who sings all day. Go in circles. From the tree to the cable antenna. Too hyper with his newly developed flying skill. Happy with his screaming that we all hear as literally screams. Annoying scre

At heart? Not exactly. Maybe. I do not know really where. But generally speaking. This feeling that you are still young. Or maybe old. Playing with the contrasts to realise the exact state. It is a strange feeling. Sometimes it is better not to think of it. Why do that? What will trigger you, or anyone to stop and ask oneself: "how am I feeling? Old? Young?" And what is the definition. I mean, how would you know if you are feeling old or young. I am not sure if there are symptoms of that inner feeling. I am not sure what made me write on this at this particular moment. Nothing really triggered that on the age level. It is not that I am suffering from a midlife crisis or seeing wrinkles on my face. Not exactly. I do not look much into the mirror or trace white hair or wrinkles. THe only think I do, or try to keep it as a routine, is drinking olive oil. It does miracles to your skin. Yes, it is skin that I am after. I have to admit that I feel uncomfortable when my face looks