Happiness- My unusual side

                Me and my husband- Newcastle upon Tyne beach.

Happiness.

When a poor little girl, hungry for two days, wander from street to street in search of a single morsel of food, gets to a heap of rubbish and see a half eaten piece of bread. The shine in her eyes, that’s happiness.

When a father of two, who spent last ten years in a far off country to spend money for his family, climbs down the plane stairs to meet his children. That excitement on his face, that’s happiness.

When a rich businessman, after earning a truck load of money after an international tour for a month, enters his home at night to eat a simple meal prepared by his mother. The peace on his face, that’s happiness.

When a father, after waiting outside an operation theater for hours, hears a good news of a healthy daughter, that one drop of gratitude in his eyes. That’s happiness.

A hug by your father when you get good results, an excited scream after winning a game of ludo with your cousins, chatting uninterruptedly with your siblings while sharing a meal, simple moments of rejoice that we often ignore, that’s happiness.

Happiness can be triggered at any moment any time of the day with simple happenings. We often mistakenly associate it with big achievements in life. Or a state that remains forever long. We just have to fight with our selves to let ourselves feel it in a full way. All who laugh out loud every time are not necessarily happy and all who just smile when everyone laughs, are not sad.

‘Always’ is not a word suitable for it. Nothing can stay always. Nor does happiness. Restless souls like me keep sitting on a pile of happiness all their life while screaming that we don’t get it. It is us who can decide whether we want to be happy or not. It is like a switch that you turn on when you feel yourself worthy of it. When I was here, In Pakistan, I was in a constant state of depression because I never wanted to get out of it.Small bursts of laughter couldn’t change the state of constant denial in my mind.

I still punish myself sometimes by not feeling happiness around me. By pushing myself towards depression may be for showing loyalty to my life long friend. It feels good sometimes. You can even feel happiness in extreme pain. I definitely can.

Sitting in peace on green fresh grass while staring constantly at the beautiful blue sea water flowing to and fro, that’s my idea of happiness these days. I have started enjoying my solitude equally as I enjoy the company of the person fate has blessed me with. May be life can not get any better that this.

This article is written in response to Dungeon Prompts.

 

 

 

Can You See My Fingers Bleed?

I was planning to write poetry or fiction for some challenge today and here I am, sitting, staring at my laptop screen with my vision getting blurred every few seconds. I wipe my eyes with my already damp hands and start staring at the screen again. I feel an urge to hug my laptop right now or kiss it. And I feel an urge to go out for a walk in the woods with my laptop and never come back to my real world.

I have got the best friends, brothers and sisters here with the help of this little box, a machine. Who knew machines would be understanding feelings more than humans, someday ? Technological advancement or Humanity decline ? I know If I’d cry right now, there would be someone sitting right beside their computer ready to embrace me with their words. I know if I’d share my darkest feelings and the most strange emotions there would be people understanding these without judging me.

Unknown people who have no idea who am I and where I belong, what my country, cast and religion is. People who just know that there is some soul out there, craving for their sympathetic words. Craving for the Love that real world failed to give it. Craving for the care that everyone wants, but doesn’t get it. Craving for someone who could listen, just listen to what it had to say. To listen to the rants of a restless soul.

The time I spent crying while laying in the dark, for 20 years is spent writing now. My fingers dance on the keyboard of this very old model, slow laptop and ‘words’ come out along with the silent tears. My tears cried for 20 years and it is time to give them some rest while I let my fingers cry out loud. There is a difference, no one listened to my crying tears but now everyone listens to my bleeding fingers.

No matter how hopeless and depressed my real life is, my virtual life is awesome. I got to understand life, happiness and care –  The strange words which don’t exist in my real life dictionary. In this life, I am not a depressed bipolar soul….I am the queen of my world, my blog ! I walk here with pride, that my real life can’t snatch away from me. This is my world…The people here are my friends…My beloved online community is the best thing I have….And I am grateful for everything this virtual world has offered me.

Words can’t express my gratitude and Love but my tears can. And I know you can see my fingers bleed, while reading my wounded words.

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Linking to Daily Prompt and Dungeon Prompts : Community. Head over to Speak Easy to vote for my story “Waiting for a dead promise” If you like it. Do read and vote for other awesome submissions too.

Untitled Again ! (Because titles are not enough to portray feelings)

 

This is a photo of a boy from Syria who is sleeping next to his father’s and mother’s grave. I am gazing at this photo and I am crying so hard and so loud. I don’t know why… May be because sometimes you need something to initiate a spark inside you that allow you to let out what you have been collecting inside for a long time. You wrap your pain in layers of fake laughter and smiles and indulge yourself in the colors of this mortal life and at one point, all your tries of faking it dash to ground. You come out as the same weak personality that can’t even carry the weight of itself. The burden of problems and pain seems unacceptable;e at this point.

I had no idea I’ll write this post and I have no idea now what I am writing and where it’ll end. I just want to be real, for a while, for some seconds in front of a crowd and yet still in front of no one…. A crowd who don’t know me and a crowd to whom I owe no expectations and may be that’s why this crowd do more than I expect from them, always. Expectations are the things that create all those differences all those problems, No ? We’ll be happy on what we’d get if we don’t expect and yet here we are, expecting from others even more than we can do for them. Isn’t it funny ?

Sometimes my heart and mind needs a break. While engaging myself with this so called ‘life’ I sometimes get tired. At that time I want to run away from life for a while, I need to take a break from the artificial and live the real, I want to breathe in fresh air at a place where I can find no trace of my ongoing life or I need to sleep for a long time, very long time when no one could wake me up. I want to hide from the people who say that they love me and care for me, why ? I don’t know. I want to be invisible and see what these people will do when I’ll be no more around them. It’s not like I don’t know, but I want to see that.

I guess I have started liking this miserable condition of mine. May be that’s why when people talk of positivity and hope and happiness, their words don’t seem real to me. As if no such things exist in nature, as if they are just performing their duty to make a miserable person in depression feel better. No, despite all your words of support I am still standing here with the same hopelessness and empty hands and I have no positive thoughts.

Was I sent to this earth and given a life for this what I’m doing ? The world would be a far better place without me then why did Allah sent me here ? Any particular reason ? There is no answer. He wants to tell me but I am not ready to listen. There’ll never be any answer till the day they’ll be pouring mud all over my lifeless body. A body made of mud going into the mud. That’s the rule. That’s the truth.

And I am still crying…What should I do to stop this ? Any magical tablet any treatment that’ll stop all this chemical naughtiness going on inside my head ? There must be something that I’m missing…. But what ? My fingers won’t get tired of typing questions but your eyes will get tired of reading. I can’t do any good for anyone, I can’t make anyone happy. This task is not made for me. And that’s why I can stay happy.

And yet I portray myself as if I am the most sad pitiful being in the world. I don’t see that Syrian boy sleeping beside those two graves. What would he be thinking ? I know he is not sleeping, he just can’t. How can he ? He must be thinking about those four hands of Love that once used to hug him and slide their fingers through his hair, those two pair of eyes that had nothing but pure love in them and those arms that protected him once like no one ever can. They are sleeping now under layers of mud and he is still here, fighting with a fierce thing called life….fighting to protect himself from being eaten by life.

I don’t want anything from life…I just want my senses to get numb. I just want to stop thinking and enjoy a peaceful sleep, Is that more than enough ? I can now understand why people use drugs and alcohol and why these are forbidden for us. I have lost everything, and by everything I mean ‘everything’ that can’t be described in words.

I wished this writing might help me out but it hadn’t. Don’t know why. I don’t need pity, I don’t need ‘I am sorry for what you are going through’ and I don’t need “I can understand” because trust me, you don’t. No one can. No one has. No one ever will. I just have to live with my damn self.