“I’ll die.. don’t do this to me..”
“Die then. I don’t care.”
“I’ll die.. don’t do this to me..”
“Die then. I don’t care.”
It was always a torture opening up in front of other human beings… Potential judges, weapons… which you feed with your own trust till they use it against you.
Pencils and papers were always my friends. Silent, open, blank, unbiased, and always on my side. Sometimes they even let me weep over them and smudge their pretty pages in ink and tears…
They never spoke a word against me. Never in my favour either really, but they let me fill them with my self. What could be a better commitment than to allow a human to completely fill you up…?
These pencils wrote a quadrillion words to express my pain and these pages absorbed ’em all like they were it’s own.
But then I stopped.
I found a person similar to that. I filled him and filled him with lots of love. I filled him till there was no more space to fill. He absorbed my pain just like the pages of my diary did. And he let me cry on him too. He did more in fact. He wiped those tears away for me.
But human beings are deadly weapons. They operate by choice and mood of their own.
All you have to do is load them up with your trust and your secrets. Tell them your flaws and your mistakes. Tell them your regrets and the truth about yourself and wait to see how the gamble turns out. More often than not they will shoot it all back together at you when you will be least expecting it.
They’re the revolver and your trust, the bullets. Tell them all your secrets and fill them with your trust and it will be the same as loading up a gun with bullets. Tell them more and more till there’s no space to fill them anymore and they’ll be a wholly loaded gun pointing right at you.
Now smile and say I trust you.
Soon after you’ll hear screams and find the paramedics collecting your traces off the ground.
I’m too invested in things more beautiful than poetry
So I’m trying
I’m getting requests to continue
And I don’t wanna refuse
I know the magic words can do
So I wanna continue
But about what
And where do I start
The weather’s nice
It rained today
Like the tears that I shed yesterday
But the rain is mercy
Unlike my pain
So I know I’ve healed
I felt happy
And I took my parrot out to the balcony
And he screeched and sang from excitement
And that was my heart.
Happy and joyful
Dancing inside from joy
I don’t get why people use umbrellas during such beautiful weather
It’s ungrateful and idiotic
Especially for people in Kuwait
I can’t believe they could be so dumb
After months of being roasted under the scorching Kuwaiti sun
You’d think people would cherish this beautiful weather
And drops of sweet water from the heavens
And the weather’s gift to the people of Kuwait
And they have the nerve to be so ungrateful
With umbrellas over their heads
And pacing speedily out from under the sky
So desperate to get inside
They don’t cherish it when they get it
And yet they complain all year round about how much they would love if Kuwait was breezy and cool
We live in a world where people who don’t have time
To cherish and enjoy the things they asked for all year round
What a strange world…
What a strange world…
“As women when we fight for our rights in our struggle to stand next to men in total and absolute equality, men are not really the ones that defeat us; even though they are the ones that insult us and discourage us the most.
The ones that defeat us are in fact women…
Those women that side with men.
And you know what’s ironic? They side with men by standing behind men. Not beside them.”
I have a lot of people that I deal with on a daily basis. And one thing I have learnt about dealing with people is that they have all got their own stories. Just like I’ve got my own. And in each of their story, it’s them who’s the protagonist, not me or someone else. So when I interact with people, the best I can do is play the part of a good friend or a well wisher and keep myself from turning into their antagonist.
And this is something I really believe in. That while interacting with people, you are not the protagonist to them. It’s not about you. It’s about them.
And so if you live by this, you will often come across situations where you will have to choose between being the well wisher to their story or the protagonist of your own. ‘Cause you cannot be both at the same time. You cannot make their situation about you. And you cannot make your own situation about them. Sometimes, you’ll be forced to choose between their pain or your own. They might hurt you in being the protagonist of their story by ignoring you or your struggles in making it about themselves (which by the way is their right), and you will have to choose between letting it pass and forgiving them as their well wisher, or you will have to choose acknowledging your own pain as the protagonist of your own story. A lot of times you might be in the same troublesome situation, facing the same obstacle, but somehow it’ll be all about them because they chose to ignore that you sail in the same boat and that you’re in pain too. And when you choose to be their well wisher, you end up ignoring and neglecting yourself. You cheer them up and there’s no one really that will acknowledge that you need some cheering too. And this will happen multiple times with a bunch of people… You’ll always be their well wisher and only that.
And honestly, that’s the worst thing that can happen to you.
Because in being the well wisher of their story, I completely forgot that I had my own story to run. I got so busy being that well wisher to them that my pain and self neglect kept increasing until it came to a point where I no longer remained the protagonist of my own story. In fact, I became my own antagonist. My own personal villain. I was the one that suppressed my own self. My story didn’t remain about me anymore. It became more about others until it came to a point where I broke. ‘Cause I made horrible decisions. I kept putting others before my own needs. I kept choosing the role of the well wisher instead of choosing to be my own protagonist. And hence I was neglected by myself in my own story.
And that sucks.
And the damage I’ve done is huge.
Yes I’m supposed to be a well wisher to others, but not before I serve myself first. But me, I didn’t even serve myself last. I didn’t serve myself at all. And then finally, I broke. What about me? What about my pain? What about my feelings?
Because I went so long putting on a brave face for the sake of others that my shell began to crack and all that remained inside was a heart that was so deeply neglected that it bled.
And you know what hurt most? When the people I had been a well wisher to, accused me of being selfish when I finally decided to play my protagonist. And the damage done was of great magnitude. I ended up with untreated GAD and Bipolar. And I’m exhausted. ‘Cause living with mental illnesses is awful. Bipolar is the worst. ‘Cause I feel like I’ve ended up with a punishment. Before it was I who used to invalidate myself. Today it’s my own disorder that does. I swing between sadness and happiness cause my brain cannot decide how it wants to feel. It’s like all my feelings are faulty and unreal. Like they’re all a result of some glitch in my brain. And that automatically invalidates my feelings even to myself. It hurts.
And nobody wants to listen. All they care about is me being the well wisher. Not the protagonist.
And I don’t wish to get into personal details, but I’m stuck in a situation where I cannot get myself treated. I cannot play the protagonist… It’s not even a choice anymore. At least not for now. And that’s just damaging me more and more.
I feel like all my parts have fallen apart. Like my entire mechanism has fallen apart and I cannot figure out which part goes where. I cannot figure my self out. I don’t even know myself anymore… I don’t know what triggers me or pushes me towards sadness or anxiety. I don’t know what motivates me. I don’t understand my own motives when I choose to ignore people or when I choose to lay in bed all day. I don’t know why I feel exhausted for no reason. I don’t know why my head aches so much. I don’t know why I make excuses every time I get invited to social events. I don’t know why I avoid meeting or visiting my own best friends…
And honestly, I think that the only people that actually let me be the protagonist of my own story were these few friends. The ones that scolded me for trying to apologize for having needed a break so long and so serious that I ignored them for an entire year and a half. Because they understood. And I’ll be forever grateful to them for having given me my space without questioning it because they understood that I was the protagonist to my own story and actually had a life that didn’t revolve around them.
And so with these girls, I’m allowed to be the protagonist. But with others though, it’s not even a choice anymore. And frankly, I’m the one that brought it on to myself.
What I’ve realized now is that being a well wisher to people is important. But when your feelings and your own worth is at stake, always, always be the protagonist. Stand up for yourself right in that moment. Just as they begin to invalidate you. Never let them invalidate you. Not once. And more importantly, never let yourself invalidate you. ‘Cause you may not realize then, but the damage it will do will break you down for years to come.
‘Cause you’ll always look back. You’ll always turn the pages in reverse. You’ll always read those old chapters of your life. Those in which you damaged yourself the most. And that will always hurt. It will always hurt, because the damage can never be undone. The damage is the kind of damage that remains with you forever. I’ve developed fears that I never had before. I’ve developed thoughts that scare the hell out of me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of ’em.
Just remember to be good to yourself. That’s very important. Remember that this is your story and that you are the protagonist. And you have all the right in the world to cut those people out of your life story that constantly invalidate you and make everything about themselves.
Live you own story before you live someone else’s.
“One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, “What has befallen you?” And the man replied, “O prince, I am by profession a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob the money-changer’s shop, and as I climbed in through the window I made a mistake and entered the weaver’s shop, and in the dark I ran into the weaver’s loom and my eye was plucked out. And now, O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver.”Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
“O prince,” said the weaver, “the decree is just. It is right that one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave. But I have a neighbor, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in his trade both eyes are not necessary.”
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took out one of the cobbler’s two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.“
– Khalil Gibran, The Madman.
Run from the worries. From the tragedies. From the melancholies of vacant souls and empty homes. From your secretly damaged egos. From unloving, betraying selves. From dark desolate nights. From aching melancholic sighs. From haunting dreams and nightmares. And possessing demons and devils in your head. From your empty and starless skies. From the thundering rage of your lying desires. From the poisonous hate and loathing as it brews in your shattered broken heart. From the choking suffocating smoke of your own envy as it sets you on fire. From the wickedness in your smile as it turns you into stone inside.
Run from yourself. Your dreams. Nightmares. Love. Heartbreaks. Your pain. Your hate. Your own desperate desolate sighs. Your own broken ego as it survives. Run from yourself, love…
“I swear real liars are those
that believe their own lies
as they deceive someone else.
And play the victim themselves
as things begin to end.”
Or maybe not…
Maybe it is.
In all this bliss,
There are still parts of you
that have gone amiss.
And my heart is cold.
So is my skin.
My hands and lips and my eyes…
Not a single drop of tears to shed.
Empty and dead inside.
No feelings in there.
I can’t find them.
There’s just an empty void.
Dark and dull… no sense of joy.
Or even sadness.
Just a blanket
Of vacant thoughts
That I think at night.
But they make no sense when I wake up.
And my mornings are empty too.
Empty and pointless.
No sense of purpose.
Only me and daily routines.
Like my sentences.
Goes on and on…
I hope you’re well.
That’s all I hope for.
Don’t wish to see you again,
But I’d like to know you’re well.
‘Cause even though I’ve pushed you out of my life,
You’ve still managed to survive in my prayers alive.
And remain that way…
But a beautiful dream as well.
For someone else.
Not me anymore,
I’ve learnt to love myself again…
Today I finally suffice myself.
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