Category: Bits & pieces of everything

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.

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?

I think i’ll miss you forever

i know you’re not okay now, and i know we’re going through very difficult time, and i know what i am going through is maybe a very small percentage of your pain, but i’m here for you, there’s nothing that i won’t do to see you well again.

i know you’re scared, even though you don’t show it. i know all of this is scaring you, and even creating anxiety. the doctor told us that a certain thing in your tests were high wich is most likely due to you being scared, why don’t you tell me that you’re scared?

i saw that look in your eyes on monday, i know that anxious look, i saw how you reacted at 1am in that ugly sad emergency room, as if the wall was closing in on you; you were panicking and i could see it. and i am so lucky to have been there with you, i am so lucky to have you in my life.

this will pass, i promise. it won’t be the end, i need you to promise me it won’t be the end. i need you to pull through, i need you to fight harder, because i cannot bear the idea of losing you. i’m so weak, and i can’t do it on my own. there’s still so much i want to learn from you, so much i want to hear, there’s so much i still want of you and i am too weak to lose you.

stay here, don’t leave me. stay here for a couple of decades more, stay here next to me as if there is nothing better to do than hold my hands and offer me oranges. stay here because everything i do and everything i’ve done is revolved around you and if i lose you the earth will stop spinning around me.

i promise i’ll behave. i’ll be good. i’ll listen to everything you want to tell me, even all the things i don’t like to hear. i’ll try to eat healthier, i’ll reduce my caffeine consumption. i promise i’ll stop doing all the things you don’t like.

i promise to stop wearing your sweaters, or at least put them back in your closet when i’m done. i offered you one of my sweaters, which would look great on you, but you wouldn’t take it. so really, it’s not my fault that you didn’t accept kind favors.

what do you want from me? please let me know. tell me how i can help ease the pain, tell me what i can do to take all your sickness away. i swear i’ll do it, i’ll do everything to stop the sadness in your eyes and the fatigue in your bones. i’ll do whatever to crush the thing that is crushing you.

i look at people who have lost a family members and years later are smiling and doing well. how do they do it? how can the sun shine in the morning? i don’t know how people do it, but i can’t. i’m not strong, i’m very weak.

i promise to be better. i promise to be everything you ever want me to be. i promise. but please, please, please, come back to me. please feel better. please defeat this and come back to me healthy and so almighty.

i love you, please stay with me now and for infinity. please

It’s been six month. My God, it’s been six months and not one single step closer to justice.

Have you seen the photos of the mothers? The mothers carrying the photos of their sons and daughters, who have been killed ruthlessly by the behemoth hands of beasts?

How can they sleep at night? Knowing these mothers cannot breathe? How can they go on with their lives when a mother desperately gives in to the fact that her child has died for no reason, and still no one wants to explain to her why. 

Could you go on, explain to her? Explain to her why the sun does not shine anymore and why she now throws away the remaining of her pot of stew. Forgive her; she is still not used to making lesser portions; she still makes some extra for her son, who they murdered.

She makes his bed every morning even though it remains untouched at night. Forgive her; she refuses to believe that no one sleeps on this bed anymore. She refuses to believe that her child is no longer her child but is a child of the Earth, his ashes still buried under the rubbles on a hot August day.

What do you tell her when she walks towards the silos for the first time in six months and searches for her son? She knows, she’s not crazy, she knows he is not there, she knows he is long dead, and he cannot even hear her wails, but what do you tell her when she impulsively walks searching for her son, to tug him back to sleep at night?

I read on the Legal Agenda that a little boy is planning on making a ladder so tall that it reaches the sky, so he can visit his father up in heaven whenever he wants. What do you tell this boy? How can you tell him that that wherever his dad is, he will not be able to reach him?

You’d think it gets easier with time. If It’s not easier on us, the privileged ones who got away with only seeing their beloved city on the grounds, how will it ever get easier on the victims’ families?

And the murderers still sleep in gold-plated king-sized beds and breathe the same air we breathe. How can they sleep? How can they breathe the same air as the families of victims and still sleep?

My head hurts. I am trying to lower my caffeine consumption, especially with coffee, so I didn’t have any today, and I feel so sleepy, and my head hurts, waiting for the painkillers to do their job.

Hello, how are you? Has it really been 17 days since the full lockdown started? How are you coping? I can’t imagine it being easy, especially if you’re really committed to the lockdown and not leaving the house.

I can’t say I am very much affected by the lockdown so far; the first week of lockdown (and me testing negative), I spent the whole week in the mountains, and during last week I was spending the afternoons with my friend at her house every day or two, so this is keeping me a bit sane. I’ve had my share of 21 days in a single room, I want to breathe.

I don’t know how people are coping, really. People from my community, who live off a daily income, how do you expect them to choose starvation over the virus? It’s almost impossible. You take the loaf of bread out of the hands of a poor man and then wonder why he cries.

I pity my community, so poor and fragile as if it’s walking on eggshells. How do they survive? I ask myself. How do they eat when it’s been 17 days of complete lockdown and little to no aid from the government or non-governmental organizations? My God, How do they eat?

I think it’s unfair to exploit people’s weakest moments for the sake of promotion, but the WFP TVC during Ramadan was a stab in the gut. In case you didn’t see it, it was a mother telling her little boy a bedtime story about a rabbit and that it is okay to sleep on an empty stomach because she could not afford food, and she didn’t want to tell him.

Even remembering this brings tears to my eyes; how were they even able to shoot this? Can you even imagine thousands of mothers having to hug their children to sleep with an empty stomach?

And here I am, coffee deprived with a headache and very tired, tired of what? Of luxuries? Why is life so cruel? Why does any child ever have to be hungry? Why does any child have to be deprived of food and toys, and life?

Sometimes all this is just too unfair.

I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee.