Thoughts Of A Stormy Night

Sitting there on the floor in the middle of the night and staring at the fog covered window, she looks like a complete mess. She has sore red skin around her nails and her back aches like hell. Tears are rolling down her cheeks that sink into her messy hair making them a bigger mess. But she don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.

Everything around her is awfully silent. This carpet, the walls, the golden vase in the window, the overly caring sleeping husband, the ticking clock, one of the two hearts in the room…. Everything. Except that scary gust of wind that shoos away the silence from time to time. Reminding her of some nostalgic moments back home and of the fact that she is awake. Not sleeping. It’s almost midnight. And she doesn’t have insomnia.

There is no moon today. Sky is all dark and red and frightening. Like in horror movies. Where suddenly a vampire jumps at an innocent victim to suck blood out of it. Only, the difference here is, the victim is already devoid of blood, and life. There is just a lot of hollowness and quiet. This much quiet is dreadful.

Why isn’t this fog disappearing? And why isn’t time moving any faster? And why isn’t this mind shutting up already? It has to do a lot of thinking tomorrow. Once again. Lots and lots of crap. About her painful past. And fruitless present. And fearful future.

Oh and I forgot to mention, she does just go with the flow. Smooth. Because you know, only the dead can go with the flow. The alive, they fight. Till the last breath. And she? She hadn’t took a breath in for a long time. Along the road of breathing through an oxygen mask somewhere, she forgot to do it on her own even when she had a chance. Some things we can choose to forget, some things we can’t.

Oh and did I mention, that that ‘she’ is me? Right now? I think I should get some sleep. This sound of rain, it makes me feel dizzy. Stormy gushes were a lot better !

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Just Sorting It out.

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Why can’t I think like normal people ? Why can’t I behave normal ? Why can’t I pass my day and nights the way normal people do ? What is NORMAL?

People change with time. No, actually their perspectives change with time. The way we see the same simple normal things in our lives. The way we react to the same familiar situations and the way we think about the tiny little details of life. Perspective is all that matter.

I was tired asking myself all these questions some time ago. I was mad for being normal. I was jealous of normal people. And now when my life has turned into a usual normal life, it feels boring to me. Now I have come to know what I have lost. I gave up a life of awareness and enlightenment for a so called casual NORMAL life. Huh.

What normal life¬†is actually ?¬†A life passed in a conventional way. A life in which you don’t question what, why and how. You just do what others have been doing for thousands of years, you just follow the rules. You run behind life without any aim and at the end you end like a puppet in the fingers of nature. When you don’t feel the craving to look behind things for their logic, for the reason of their existence. When you lose the purpose for which you were born at the first place.

I have seen people living that way, very happily. I mean they have their lives all settled and families to share their achievements and problems. People who lay down to enjoy a good night sleep at 9, at night and wake up at 6 in the morning. People who don’t need to cry every other day and people who can share their things with anyone they find. People who are friends with many people and they don’t have time to figure out who is the best one of them.

I am that kind of people these days. I mean not completely, but more or less the same. My mind don’t feel connected to the weird and supernatural feelings and my heart feels hollow and dead inside my body. I wake up, pass my day doing nothing and then I stare at the dark and sleep in the morning. I don’t think…. I seriously don’t. Not about who am I, not about why am I like this and not about should I live or die. And I don’t cry, literally I don’t !! I feel like my body has been boiling with thick foggy clouds and it will burst out one day. And…. I am bored ! Fed up of this life where nothing at all seems to be making any sense. I don’t want to be a puppet. I don’t want to be NORMAL.

Allah was the solution of every problem I had for the past few years but He has stopped looking at me. I may be responsible for that but now when I need to get out of this cursed life, I find no help. My hand is being rejected by Him since long. And I am tired.

This post was the only way for me to sort out what I really want and what is actually going on in my mind. My mind don’t talk to me these days either but I can trick it into writing everything down, which I just did. Sorry for what you had to read. Just forget it.

And yeah HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY to all my Pakistani friends.

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

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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.