I discovered that what most people call creepy, scary, and spooky, I call comfy, cozy, and home.―
They say we feel more comfortable in a familiar environment. With the people we know.
Studies have shown that we are all attracted to what is familiar to us and that repeated exposure to certain people will increase our attraction toward them. This is a subconscious process that we’re not even aware of or have any awareness of making such a choice. We are attracted to familiar people because we consider them to be safe and unlikely to cause harm. Even when someone’s behavior or personality is hurtful, on a subconscious level, some part of us finds comfort in the familiarity of that behavior. Good or bad, the environment in which we grew up is the only home we’ve ever known.
This is why it’s so difficult for people to leave hurtful relationships. It’s easy to criticize someone for staying in an abusive relationship and to blame the person for staying, accusing them of being weak or wanting to be treated badly. But no one wants to be treated badly. It is hard to leave because, besides the issues of having nowhere else to go, we are tethered to bad relationships as much as we are tethered to the past by our subconscious minds. [source: Psychology Today- The Familiarity Principle of Attraction]
I am a product of this principle though not by my own choice. I suffered from Stockholm Syndrome and still suffering the consequences nonetheless.
Going back to where I came from, I always seek the familiar environment of my youth even though I’ve long escaped that situation and now belong to another group. That makes me susceptible to horror and ordeal of the past which my family and most people are trying to escape and will gladly trade for my privileged position. Difficult and incomprehensible as it is, that environment could evoke feelings from me when nothing could and will forever be miss and long for against my better judgment.
if you’ve inherited my heart
then don’t be ashamed
of how desperate you sometimes feel
or how you stain sheets and shirts
that you are sopping wet
a walking hemorrhage
curious hands in the shower
the first menses of a young girl
a virgin writhing on a bed
you are on fire
you are like your mother.
So how could I ever talk about sin or damnation
when you have legs like creaking doors?
you welcome ghosts home
so I know you will know hell intimately
men who like to punch women in the face
who tongue kiss girls who look like their mother
men who hold you down, face in the mattress.
Daughter with a soft body
the hardest ones will fall for you
and you will usher them in
seek out their sharp edges
and by the time they’ve finished
you will be bloody and sore
teeth marks on your thighs
your torso a burnt house of worship.
Habibti, you do not deserve it but
you will be loved in fragments and fractions
until you no longer look like yourself
until your mouth is just the shape of his quiet name
oh my little girl
rip him out of your body
you come from a long line of women;
Hawa who doused herself in petrol
Ayan who pulled out her own teeth
Khadija who fell asleep in the river
forgetting is the hardest thing in the world,
– Warsan Shire
December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…”
“Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)”
“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.”
This song sums up my past affairs (yes affairs plural) and for the most part, the greatest times of my life. They are echos now, but those brief moments had given me unforgettable memories I often revisit when I need a place to hide or something to sustains me when the weather is bad the company dull the evenings dark and the morning cold.
Daily Prompt: Sincere
Of all the technologies that have gone extinct in your lifetime, which one do you miss the most?
Jukebox! And vinyl of course, it goes without saying. I remember spending all of my lunch money on playing all my favorite songs. That was way back in the ’80s. Those were the days. When all the good music died.
Most days I’m confused and hysterical I can even hear my brain screaming inside my head though I try my best not to show it. People at work and in the streets probably think I’m a perfect picture of balance, peace, happiness and serenity while the truth is: in my current (self-appointed) alienated position I feel I’m becoming more alien than alienation itself…
Why there are days that nothing seems to connect? That you feel like being trapped between two walls and they are slowly closing in and breathing is too painful? That no matter what you do, reality is very far, far away and you float hovering above going nowhere seeing everything gray from morning till evening and your head is like an over stretched balloon with a few bricks inside about to burst at any moment with or without provocation then suddenly you will find yourself plummeting under water and you realized you cannot swim which is good because it’s nice to stay there at the bottom where no one could find you and you don’t have to do something you don’t want to do or talk to people and say things you don’t mean but keep saying anyway because that’s what they expect from you?
I can picture a cartoonify version of myself going from frame to frame, a dark cloud following me hanging above my head and once in a while it releases some water and I just sit there with a gloomy face letting the persistent cloud rain on me feeling indifferent being oblivious of the world around because I lost my groove and I cannot find it back and all I can do is walk and walk and walk…