A Heart-felt Sensation
As the clock ticks my life away, I can't seem to understand or rather comprehend what might lie ahead.
It's these forces, the conditions that we are expected to live under that confuse me.
It's the instability of a well thought-out life plan that makes my life so fragile in structure.
I've tried it all; I've tried waking up at the same time every day, following a list of tasks that are meant to be done, meant to be taken care of in a constrained time span. I've tried waking up whenever my body tells me it's time. I've tried losing touch with everyone around me, living in my own reality. Nothing seems to work.
Nothing makes me motivated enough to reach my goal.
I've tried, I've tried and I'm tired.
At the end of the day, when I feel that sensation in my heart,
I know my life has purpose, and I'd be damned if I didn't try harder.
Superficial
We live in a populated world now-a-days, close to 7-billion people around the world, the chances are quiet low for us to find the one; about 0.000000014% to be exact. I don't personally believe in the one, but one thing I do believe in is that if you really want to, you can build a relationship, so strong in nature, that you will refer to your partner as the one.
We have all these criteria in our minds, these lists of specifications for people's personalities, behavior, their choice of friends, their choice in clothing and style, the kind of books they read, the kind of music they listen to, the dialect or accent they have, and how big/small their breasts/muscles are, what color their eyes are, how good of a kisser they are, and many other things.
We use these requirements to "protect" ourselves: we meet someone new, we talk to them for a few minutes and if they score well on our list then we keep interacting with them, otherwise – they're out of the picture.
If you think about it, all we're doing is restricting ourselves from meeting new and interesting people. Someone who you would be able to connect to in ways you would have never thought of. If only we took the time to get to know every person we meet...
From the point that you meet someone–the first contact–until the moment you truly know who that person is, what their past is and how those certain experiences they've had in their past affected them, for them to become who they are now, exists nothing but uncertainty–could they be someone you could really connect to? Emotionally, spiritually, sexually?
Hyperventilate
I was running. I had been running for 20 minutes straight. It was 2 degrees Celsius in down-town Toronto and I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
There's a story about a scorpion and a frog, where the scorpion asks the frog to help him cross a river. The scorpion promises the frog that he will not sting him because if so, they'll both drown. The frog agrees to do it; nonetheless, the scorpion stings the frog on the way. The frog asks why he did so, before they both drowned to their deaths and he responds "I'm a scorpion; it's my nature".
Everyone gets in their own way. It seems to be our nature to become self-destructive after something hurts us deep down inside. Some people are self-destructive by default because of the emotional black holes in their chests. Some for other reasons.
Some people turn to drugs, alcohol, razors and needles.
This was my therapy. It wasn't something I came up with, it was something that came to me. Like drugs appeal to you when you first take them, or when that first buzz you get from drinking alcohol gives you that comforting state of relaxation.
I ran and ran until I reached the lake shore. The darkness of the night made it seem comforting, as if the nature–the world–wanted me to calm down. Even though, it was raining and the water wasn't as calm as I'd remembered.
"Runaway" by "Linkin Park" came on my iPhone. I wondered for a second about why I still listened to their songs until the first words came out of Chester Bennington's mouth.
The obnoxious words of a teenager who can't find his/her place in the world: "I wanna run away, never say goodbye."
Rage bottled up within me. It is rage, not sadness nor sorrow that I'm deeply scared of.
It is rage that consumes the beauties in the world. The peace, the calm, it is all taken over by rage–violence. My mind is far too advanced (or I'm too much of a coward) to give in to my violent nature. We are meant to hurt–to hate then to hurt: "Baby I'm a man, I'm born to hate."
The water looked inviting; a part of me wanted to go for a swim and never come back. Instead, I screamed. The shriek of my voice echoed in my head. Shout. Scream. Cry. Repeat.
My inability to deal with my emotions wasn't something new. I have mastered feeling; I am compassionate towards everyone around me – people I know, people I like and even people I don't enjoy being around. But the connections I make along the way, there's always an ending point to them. There's always a cliff that they're going to jump down from. "Everybody leaves".
"Never Let This Go" by "Paramore" came on my iPhone.
It's inevitable, there's always an ending to a friendship–to a relationship; the only thing we have control over is the profundity of the duration in which we know the other person–your partner, your friend, your best friend. The idea of "forever"–however comforting–can only exist as an illusion. A beautifully designed illustration in your imagination.
I contemplated throwing my iPhone away. But no, I was responsible. I am responsible for what I do in my life–with my life.
Not because we are meant to live and let live, but because I didn't want to hurt my family–my friends. Material is important to them.
I walked away from the shore and I started running. The only thing that bothered me then was how I could possibly get back to my room and freshen up without anyone noticing.
The depth of my friendships matter to me; if someone's superficial, I can't be anything but an acquaintance to them.
In order to make deeper connections with people, you have to be stable enough to become acquaintances first; because if everybody leaves then you have to make sure that your so-called-friends are worth the time and in order to figure that out, you need to interact with them.
No one wants to become acquaintances with someone who can't hold themselves together over simple matters such as a break-up.
Unless they're as fucked up as you are.
Luckily, no one was in the lobby. I made it to my room, showered and freshened up.
When you tell someone how you feel, they feel obligated to help you out. To comfort you if they can. It's whether that, or they ignore you because they don't care enough. W. knew what I was going through. He knew every little bit of the story. So I went to him.
He was hanging out with a few friends of ours.
It is ridiculous how the way you feel about everything can change by such small factors: She text-ed me again.
It had all started from her text-ing me. It had nothing to do with what she text-ed me–what the content of the texts were. It was all due to the concept of the connection still being there. She was back in my life, and it was too soon. I wasn't ready. I'm not ready.
Even though some of us don't want to admit it, we are all power hungry. I wanted–nay, needed–to have power over that connection.
One of the things I never mastered was having control of my facial expression or rather any bodily function that reacted due to the emotions I was feeling: I started crying while trying to fix a friend's computer.
I stood up and walked away. W. followed me, I wasn't surprised–he knew what I was going through, even though he had never gone through it himself.
One of things you learn after being in a romantic relationship is that you can't afford to be needy, it's not healthy.
"I'll be fine" is one of the phrases I tell people all the time. Because it's the truth–I will always be fine:
"You okay man?"
"I'll be fine, I just need to sleep."
"Are you sure you'll be fine?"
"Yeah. I just need to sleep."
I couldn't afford to be needy. There's a reason they're called "your problems" not "our problems."
I went to my room and started reading "The Game". It was a book I had promised myself to never read, but I had already broken many other promises to myself. I didn't see why I couldn't break another one.
The content didn't matter. Because "nothing registered".
J. text-ed me, he was wondering if I was mad at him.
Friendships are fragile; maybe stronger than relationships, but fragile nonetheless. If you get mad at someone who you've just started to connect with, share experiences with–it's not worth it. They're not worth your time.
At the end of the day, a single gesture that shows that you're concerned is enough for people to know that you at least have some compassion:
I text-ed him back, I told him that she was text-ing me and I was messed up about it.
"If you wanna talk, I'm here.", he text-ed me back.
Sleep.
People care. There's always someone who cares about you, even if you barely know them.
If you live life as if no one cared, darkness would be your only comfort and death would be a better gift than it is.
It would compel you to finish it all.
There's always something/someone that is enough for one to stay and give everything another shot.
But some things are just over and sometimes, you go to sleep wishing they were over.
Nima Halfmoon © 2010
Explosion
Thoughts rambling, trembling around my head.
Thinking, going through every minute of every day. Thinking of life.
Questioning every moment, every prospect, every single fucking gesture of humanity.
Rationalizing all the known.
Fantasizing about the unknown, making sense of their twisted unmeasurable chance of existence.
For why do I hold the ability to think for others.
As if I was a human God, a holy leader of the human tribe.
For the living and the dead.
For all the meanings that are left to mend.
As if I had wicked rhymes and a tremendous amount of pride.
Only if I could smoke it up and become high, think free and just waste life.
There has to be a reason for my freaky piece, I forgot how it started at the very least.
Though if I could just collaborate with my disturbed witted mind, maybe someday I'll enchant this realm and shape it into something fine.