“Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.
-Songs of Sapphique”
“Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.
-Songs of Sapphique”
“I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect… As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.”
This quote above reminds me of an episode when during the happiest, wildest, confusing, enjoyable painful saddest ride of my life when I was lost looking for my rainbow connection the captain ball of my basketball team refused despite his teammates urging him to put a stop to his shenanigans and properly court me so we could all move on (meaning if I turned down the guy the next in line can try his luck and if I accept him then they will know the chase is over and life can go back to normal) he said: “Why would I do that? This way, you can all wait forever and I will always be at the head of the queue.” He was seventeen, sweet and such a handful. I was thirty-one, looking like sixteen, daring and crazy like hell but has a decency and sense not to give in to temptation. Those were the days.
I have always been fascinated with the DNA of everything. More in clinical ways than theoretical or scientifical. How can I explain it… I want to know the hows and whys of a living organism without spending hours, weeks, years in a laboratory or drowning myself in paperwork. I want to understand why things behave in certain ways. For example, why cacti (and succulents for that matter) know what shape to evolve and what kind of spines, glochids, spinose teeth or whatever they call it to grow to protect themselves. Why they flower when one abuses and neglects them? Why siblings who grew up in the same environment, shared the same genetic makeup, identical background, and upbringing become completely two different individuals, opposite in every way. Why two identical plants, planted side by side in the garden grow completely different from each other, one of them big and robust, the other small, thinly and dying. I once dismantled a transistor radio and a watch of my father out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to know how they work, what makes them tick. I am none the wiser of course after that episode. I lack the knowledge and the drive to pursue the interest. I am more artistically inclined than technical though I like to think I am both. Anyway, isn’t it handy if we understand the mechanism of everything so we can treat them accordingly?
To win the peace you must first fight the war.
History confirms the above saying and we witness one or other form of it happening in day to day life but still I have a trouble believing it must be so. Unjustified… Injustice… Unjustification…. are the words that playing in my head. I don’t know if it affects me greatly because I can relate to this- in my life there is no such thing as easy gain. I have to fight with all my might for every inch of space, every ounce of respect, for freedom, for personal rights… for my very existence- or being a warrior is just a part of my genetic makeup. In any case it doesn’t sit right with me. I feel angry by just reading these words. I can associate it with everything that is happening around me- there is no donuts anymore in the nearby filling station or anywhere close to where I live. There is no decent coffee either when you want it. The least you can get is half a cup of lukewarm brew- around the world- global warming and all the consequences of it. The disappearance of all the things that have something to do with quality, morals and values. I can’t rant on and on but I will not (as if this post is not ranting enough) not this time- I just cant believe one has to fight in order to gain something that supposed to be a birthright, right? Like freedom and the right to exist and be treated accordingly regardless of which walk of life you came from or the colour of your skin or if you are beautiful or not, female or male or member of the third sex or belonged to the lower class of animal (which for me is humans) handicapped or having mental illness. All because of these laws created by man which resulted to prejudiced society of supposed to be educated people from civilized countries who cannot even exercise common decency between them. And I’m ranting early in the morning just because I am sick and can’t sleep since Sunday. What that makes me?
Internalized pain is always a stronger motivator than security and commitment. Like pride is always been a stronger motivator than courage. Contented people take happiness for granted. Anguished people struggle to find it through self-expression.
“Fighting and burning from turning from who we really are,
Cannot suppress so let’s find the one we have shaped so far”
– Children of The Sun, Thomas Bergersen
It’s been a long month without rain. My garden looks crunchy and my water bill steadily rising together with the temperature. The breeze which made the last three weeks of intense heat bearable is now gone, get tired of holding the fort till the rain comes which is nowhere in sight. I don’t remember a weather like this. Not even in my country of birth. It is now forbidden to water the plants, wash your car, fill the pool and light the barbecue. Funny because it’s swimming pool/barbecue weather. Pretty ironic. For the first time since I came here, there are at least eleven reported wildfires per day wherever vegetations are dried enough to be combustible. Scary.
I have a lot of things to do in the garden. Hedges to trim spent plants to remove, seeds to collect and perennials to divide. But high ozone concentration and pollen counts made it impossible to even sit and relax in the garden. It’s too hot and humid I can barely breathe.
Not wanting to miss my daily walks, I often set out after it cools down and heads mostly near any body of water. I avoid forests and nature reserves because of murderous hungry insects. I walk along canals or lakes and on weekends I go to the sea where there is always some wind and the temperature usually lower than the mainland. I visit a different coastal area every time to have some variations. New places ignite my creativity. I need a changing horizon and different sun each day in order to function properly. It is always a long drive and I ended up with a stiff neck and sore muscles but I prefer the pain of being tired physically and satisfied mentally than being bored and in pain anyway.
I don’t know what I’m going to do today. Maybe make a beeline for any garden center to find a replacement for the cactus that got sunburned the other day. I killed houseplants by TLC. I have over 200 of them inside. Acquired only this winter when I could not garden outside. When I was gone for three weeks, I thought they will not survive and often think of them while on vacation. I found them flowering happily when I came back. None of them have died. They can take care of themselves. They don’t need me. Since then, I killed at least five by moving them around looking for a better place for them and of course by overwatering. I have to learn to leave them alone. But I refuse to believe that anything could thrive on neglect. Not even people.
I wish for the rain. My garden and I need it. Did I tell you that my favorite weather is stormy weather? I even wrote a post about it here. You click it when you have the time. Anyway, this all for now and till next time.
My dark secrets are life-threatening. Pockets of unhappiness set in aspic that build and build. I have this primitive feeling that if something good happens, it is going to be followed by something bad. There is always a price to pay. – Sue Townsend
What I’m scared of?
Happy. I’m scared to be happy.
My experience of happiness, the bits and snippets of it had always been threaded with pain. When bad things are happening for too long you’ve come to expect it that when good things come your way, you think it’s a trap, a trick to lure you only to find out that at the very end there is nothing but false promises designed to fool you in believing like with other people happiness exists for you too.
But sadly, experience had shown me otherwise. Good things indeed never last. I am so familiar with the cliché that it keeps me from enjoying the moment, knowing what will happen next, I am already dreading the inevitable before it’s actually there. Life taught me not to be attached to anything or anyone. I learned (without knowing) not to miss people and places. Everything is temporary. Heraclitus said: The Only Thing That Is Constant Is Change and I agree. Nothing lasts forever. Especially good things.
Someone somewhere asked: What exactly is the standard to be happy? And I thought: Yeah, what is? Success? Network? Family? Material things? All of them? None of them? I don’t know.
The room, the room is cozy. Clean and bright and spacious. The walls are painted in soft earth tones, except for the feature wall directly behind the bed which is wallpapered with geometric pattern edged with gold on an eggshell background. The ceiling is white. Not stark white but warm like sunset’s glow on summer months. The night tables with curved legs are painted cream, distressed and dirtied to give them a used look some people find beautiful. On them are tall matching lamps with ornate base and aloe vera plants in white pots. Next to the plant on the right are a sheep and lamb figurines and an angel made of metal painted off-white and brown. On the left sits another angel, a rag doll with her own miniature doll, again off-white, with lace trimmings. Next to it is a bottle of water and a book. Aside from a painting on wood of some African image which looks like a Masai tribe from a distance but only blobs of faceless colors when viewed closer and a large rectangle mirror with carved wooden frame painted in nude color, the walls are otherwise devoid of any ornamentation.
The bed itself is a farmhouse-style metal bed with iron frame in a dark roast finish. It was once a canopy bed when it was standing in a much bigger room in a much bigger house. Now, the posts have been removed to accommodate the low ceiling of a cottage style house it now belongs to. The beddings are white with crocheted edges, two of the six pillows have crocheted cases. One of them is ergonomically designed suited for special needs. The comforter is thick and fluffy and warm. Too warm. There is a metal rocking chair at the foot of the bed piled high with stuffed toys in various sizes. All of them in neutral colors the darkest of them all, black. Nobody knows the existence of a big kitchen knife under the pillow. In case…
The woman on the bed can’t stop looking at the tiny gap between the curtains. Cream colored curtains that filtered the light softly making the room much brighter without being intrusive. It bothers her, the gap. Keeps her from closing her eyes and concentrate on trying to sleep. Not that it is the reason why she’s lying awake but it does certainly contribute to the agitation she’s feeling right now. Where is that coming from, this nervousness, the feeling of being incomplete and missing out on something? The state of being numbed and not there. Existing but not alive, dead, dead inside dead in her head.
When she was eight years old, she found out while standing on the breakwater her father had painstakingly made to keep the waves from crashing against the dikes, that the world has nothing to offer to her. The certainty of being been there done that twice over and back again still with the same conclusion was so strong it took all her power not to jump in the water and drowned herself. That feeling never changes through the years but somehow she managed always to go on searching for anything that could prove her wrong and it kept her alive, able to enjoy momentarily pleasures, but only for a time before she embarks into another fruitless quest of finding even she herself doesn’t know.
But never she felt as dead as now, disconnected unable to feel anything. Does she come full circle? Is this it? Is this the end? If she could only sleep. Then, perhaps she could think clearly. But the gap between the curtains bothers her. She must stand up and close it, prevent the light from entering and crowding her thoughts. But she knows if she stands up she will not be able to go back to bed and sleep. Oh, if there is only someone who could do it for her but there is no one, no one is around. She could kill herself and nobody would know. Not for weeks, not for months. Nobody would miss her. Is that a blessing or a curse?
Ignore the gap, ignore the light, ignore the feeling of being dead, she survives so far by doing exactly that, burying the feelings deep inside eventually she becomes numb. Close your eyes and pretend like always -she said to herself- just close your eyes…
“I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
with clean blood
and organized drawers.
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
at night when no one else is alive
however, you choose to see it
and I live in my own flames
sometimes burning too bright and too wild
to make things last
myself or anyone else
and so I run.
run run run
far and wide
until my bones ache and lungs split
and it feels good.
Hear that, people? It feels good
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please”
― Charlotte Eriksson
Have you ever thanked all 206 members of your skeletal system for holding you up? You should, because no matter how difficult things might yet become, they won’t openly betray you.
Sometimes they only forget that they are holding human flesh within their homes, it’s why you fall.
But you rise again don’t you?
Have you thanked both your lungs for loving you all your life? You should for every single moment. Because they love you so much; so much so that they refuse to give up on you even on days when all you want is to cease from breathing altogether.
Have you kissed all of your ten fingers yesterday and today, both? You should, because they will say and keep on saying the things your mouth would never be brave enough to say.
Have you thanked the other members of your internal organs for this moment yet? You should, because thanks to them, you are ALIVE.
Talk to your body when no one wishes to address you, your body listens and it does love you.
Aside from your body, you should thank God above all else too —because if it weren’t for Him, you wouldn’t have a body.
You wouldn’t have a body left to thank and to love and live in.
— Faceless word that I am
“Gratitude” by CJessica Chua
Maybe it doesn’t need to be anxiety. Or paranoia. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a result of a difficult childhood or bullied adolescence. Perhaps, it isn’t necessary to meet up with the requirements listed in a fancy Wikipedia article about heavy mental disorders for it to hurt. Each seemingly vague collision with this world’s cruelty can leave you gasping for air, clinging at the stitches. Each lover that abandoned us, each friend who turned their back in a crucial moment … it piles up. Waiting for the timer to count down the seconds. And when it hits, the bones in your body will be screaming to surface, burning in an infinite parallel universe. Immeasurable will be the crushing weight of the piling thoughts, echoing in that sad head of yours. But do not ever, under any condition, permit somebody to restrain your right to feel pain, only because they have suffered far more severe injury. Do not let anybody count your scars and tell you to “get over it”, after comparing their number to yours. It is not a contest. It is not a race on who can get fucked up beyond repair first. Respect others’ misfortunes and approach them in a kind manner. But expect the same in return and do not settle for any less.
If it is human to ache, it should be human to sympathize. Why have we let the course of our civilization reach this point? Why did we permit such constant comparisons? Not only do we now compete for having the best body or hottest outfit, but for who exhausted their hearts first, who gave up the fastest and who can romanticize depression to the fullest. We crossed the boundaries long ago and eloped in a twisted, sick environment. In a place, where scorning is ranked higher than lending a helping hand. Where sorrow is excessively inflicted. So forget them. Turn your back to each hurled remark. Never give a care about how they criticize the way you choose to cope. It depends on you and you alone. Be that hero you dreamed about last night or that inspiring person you overheard in the subway. That’s all it really is, life, I mean – learning how to cope and move on.
#ReaderSubmission by Kiki
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