Month: April 2021

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Pride and prejudice

Pride and prejudice really? I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve just learned something, and I can’t tell anyone about it because the people I can tell are directly related, and it’s so aggravating.

It’s just; I need to tell someone so they can tell me I am not being used, that it’s alright and it’s only big in my head, that I am not just being dragged around just for being the way I am and that it actually is much simpler and makes a lot of sense.

When is it time to walk away from deceiving people, even if that means giving away the things we love most? Where can we find the fine thin line between giving others our all and not letting them use us, or worse, drain us until we’re dry?

I’m hoping, praying, that there is some kind of explanation behind what I just discovered and that it is not that I am being used for whatever reason they think it makes sense to use me.

I’m hoping that I am wrong because if I am not wrong and this is the reality, I’ll have to walk, and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.

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To be sitting on a wet grass

To be sitting on a wet grass – it’s 3:05 pm, and I’m at the office with a million things to finish, but I feel like if I didn’t write now, I won’t later, and I want to write because I’m the happiest I have been in for weeks. Happy enough to skip Metallica, at least.

Sunday was ideal. There was this moment when I sat on the grass next to the muddy river and just did nothing. We sat under a shadow, away from the humidity and the sun, and a warm breeze brushed my cheeks, and I could feel the coldness of the river under my feet, and someone was probably talking to me, but all I was aware of is that at that moment, on the wet grass, I found my peace of mind.

How frivolous it is to make all the noises go away, and I don’t mean the noises around us, because the waterfall was too loud that I couldn’t even play music, I mean the noises inside us that keep pushing us down when all we want to do is walk away.

I remember that moment right now, as I sit and laugh with my coworkers, as I talk about the most random things and make fun of the absurdity and atrocities we live through every day.

At that moment, and even though I still have a good amount of work to finish before the end of the day, I couldn’t but feel reminded that serenity exists in the darkest and mustiest of all places, that even though there is so much to bear and so much to feel, there still can be a moment of idyll whether near a muddy river on a warm Sunday, or when hearing the sound of laughs of people, or deep conversation with coworkers, or simply thinking of the food you will eat after work.

I have a big week ahead, mainly FoodBlessed long hours, but I’m almost apathetic to whatever might or would happen. Tomorrow is my last working day of this week as I’m on leave this Thursday, and Friday is a day off, so it’s basically a few more hours of fighting for women’s rights and gender equality, and then I switch to fighting hunger and poverty.

We spend our years fighting, if not for ourselves, for others, and it never ceases. We never cease to fight, and sometimes it’s not that worth it, and I ask myself, when can I stop fighting? When do I let go?

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Tonight is just like any other night

Just like any other night – It’s 4 am. I’m struggling to remember, a few months ago, where all of this was gone, when I woke up on a cold December morning and I remembered that it had been so long that I didn’t have morning anxiety, that for the first time in over 5 years, the dawn anxiety attacks were gone.

And here I am now, clutching what’s left of serenity, with agonizing pain in my heart and an inflicting lump in my throat, here I am awake and thinking of all the horrid in life. Here I am at 4 am, wishing that the sun never comes, that I never have to wake up again.

I’m sorry. Every time I am back in a slum, I feel like the weakest creature on earth, like I have failed you and everything around me. It’s similar to the feeling of when I eat too much, and all I’m left with is guilt and shame and self-hatred.

I was so happy about this blog a few months back when it was a happy and content place. I listened to songs that I felt, and I found safety within; I got out of the house willingly, and seeing people was so idyllic. Now it’s all dark and depressive, and I am listening to It’s Over by The Smiths, and I have 14 unfinished posts in my draft, and I’m sorry that you have to read this.

And, my dear God, summer is blooming, which means all this will worsen and get uglier. And I’m terrified.

I’m sorry that I’m not what you expected; I’m sorry that I can’t be sane enough to be a normal friend or person. It’s just, I am trying so, so, hard to get out of this nightmare, of this rollercoaster, I’m trying so hard to be a better person for myself and you, but the pain in my heart still wakes me up at 4 am and tells me there is no happiness, that I don’t deserve happiness because I am what is wrong in the world and yet, I do not deserve to die.

I wish I can be better; I wish I can have nicer words and a nicer feeling, I wish I can write the way I wrote before, I wish it can get better, and I’m not awake at 4 am thinking of all the ways I could numb the pain inside me. I wish I can be better for you.

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Be kind

Be kind please. You never know, you really never know.

Be kind to those you love in general and to those you hate in specific. Be kind to strangers, to grumpy taxi drivers, to migrant domestic workers, to people you come across, and you never know what is going with their lives or their heads.

You never know, and because you never know, please be kind. Be kind to your nice friend who is always laughing, be kind to your colleagues who do not talk to you, and sometimes not make eye contact.

Because you never know. You never know which one’s which; you never know which one is arrogant and which one is too shy to look at you in the eye. You never know who is thinking of going home and swallowing the hidden pills in an unworn brown jacket.

You never know what the kid who never participates in class-virtually-must be feeling or the kid in class who always asks questions and takes notes. You never know which one of your colleagues are listening to Asleep by The Smiths at work and searching for ways to numb the pain.

Be kind because it is easier than being guilty. Smile at people and tell them they look nice, compliment their choice of music and notice the little things, tell your friends you love them, and notice the dark circles under the eyes. You never know who spent their night crying; you never know.

Be kind because loving someone is so rewarding. There is so much we can give if only we treated others with unreciprocated kindness; it never gets old to see someone smiling because of you.

Be kind because we are all carrying sadness that we cannot bear. Be kind because the pain crippling in your guts might be worse in somebody else’s guts. Be kind because all of us thought of multiple ways to death, because many of us contemplated suicide every now and then, because some of us tried to kill ourselves but could not find the strength and bravery.

Be kind, I beg you. The world is horrendous on its own without snarky comments and cold faces. Be kind because it is so worth loving someone too much, enough for them to stay. “I stay alive because you are kind to me.”

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I’m tired and I
I want to go to bed
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don’t try to wake me in the morning
‘Cause I will be gone
Don’t feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore
Sing to me
Sing to me
I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore
Don’t feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go
There is another world
There is a better world
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Bye

The Smiths