In my sleepless nights, I longed for you. I missed our conversations…..no, it wasn’t the conversations that I missed, it was the hope of a new life, the promise of happiness, that unrealistic feeling of pure satisfaction. I am sad, lonely and miserable, but I knew quite well how to deceive others and distract myself. There is nothing new tonight, nothing new to be written or added to my pathetic saga, but I just need to remove all these heavy masks, turn off the background music, push away all the distractors and scream that I am lonely. Days have been passing by super quickly, my whole life seemed like a new treadmill, and I have to keep moving, I cant afford to stumble and fall. The audience is just an audience and will never jump in and help. Isn’t it a pity that I had to go through all these heartbreaks to understand that I am destined for loneliness. Whenever I try to make things more genuine more meaningful, they burst in my face. Don’t they say “If a thing works, don’t fix it”, but for God’s sake nothing was or is working. It is either that I am discovering the core of human nature, or Im just turning into a lunatic.
I cant keep blaming my antidepressant pills, my inner child,
my abrupt therapy sessions or my imagined creativity. There is something wrong,
and it is not related to creativity, Im sorry to admit. Why cant I admit that
being nonconfrontational has led to all this mess. Am I looking for another
excuse, or did my years of trying to be an obedient religious person smudged
the already shaken personality?
Luckily my dreams are amusing these days, there I meet
friends, I face problems but at the end, a dream is a dream. I wish my dreams
were longer. There is something wrong, I am sure that there is something wrong.
I used to say “I have a big appetite for life” , but no, maybe I have a big
appetite for sadness. That inner void is killing me, and I want to scream but I
cant. I cant scream and I don’t have the energy. I was raised to be grateful,
and to appreciate that Im in a better state than others. So I should keep
oppressing my feelings, keep shushing my voice, and keep ignoring all my
thoughts, just to be grateful. But at the end of the day, Am I really grateful?
Can a frightened person ever be grateful.
It is that eternal feeling of fear, it paralysis me, and
make me accept the endless tiny unacceptable details that form my life. No
wonder that I appreciate my dreams, they are quick and they come to an end. My
real life feels more like a punishment, and no matter how complicated it
becomes, I have to keep being grateful. I fake happiness, I fake acceptance, I
even fake ok-ness. If I ever talk about myself, I will be accused of being
either self-centered or selfish, or both. Sometimes I will be accused of being
immature. So, let me keep faking that everything is fine. Let me keep
oppressing my fear and let me keep longing for what will never happen.
The list of my enemies is getting longer. Time does not heal,
memories are merciless, and getting myself buy does not help at all. Lately, I
feel that my only salvation is through a loud and blunt confession of my utter failure.
The failure of having, or even creating
genuine connections. The failure of speaking up. The failure of not betraying
myself day and night. If I am allowed to confess…. No it should not be a
confession, it should be a scream, an endless scream that purifies my soul from
decades of silence, acceptance and faking indifference. Now, what can I do? Go
to bed hoping to be blessed by one of those dreams, where I am free, where I’m
light and where I am capable of dealing with the situations. A few hours later
I will wake up with my legendary headache, I will wade through the day and its
errands with a fake smile, my stutters, and the endless distractors that I wrap
around my poor self.
Is there a place in heaven for those frightened people? Some
optimistic people murmur that heaven and hell, are merely “states of mind”. Ah,
so I have been to hell, and I hope that Allah the merciful will let me taste
the relief of Paradise, or at least to save me from hell. I need to pause for a
while, think and perhaps reflect on my journey, which has been a long one. But,
how would I do this? If all what I do is ignoring the obvious. I am exhausted,
and whenever I pause, I distract myself. I do this, as expected, out of fear.
Yes, it has always been fear that controlled me and shaped my life from the
beginning. There is no need to blame anyone, it seems that this is how my story
was written.
