blogging, random thoughts, Uncategorized, writing

Not so random thoughts of a confused non blond

Have you ever thought about what would happen If you did something unexpected. Something out of character. I mean something you wouldn’t normally do. and I’m not talking about risks people take or trying new things. I’m talking about listening to that voice that most of us old souls ignore. the voice of reason. 

This voice is telling me to walk away. It always does, but I stay. these days though I’m getting more and more restless. the voice is getting louder and the temptation is stronger, especially that staying  only got me hurt. so, what would happen if you walked away and turned your back on the feelings of guilt, shame and helplessness? 

What would happen if you give up on that innate desire that urges you to take the fall for someone, to fix things, because it doesn’t have to be like that?

You’re not meant to carry people’s hurt, to make up for their errors. I’m thinking that nodding and staying neutral is a lot easier option. no repercussions. What if they were family, bestfriends, soulmates even? you’ll try to convince yourself it’s worth it and you’re supposed to be there for people you care about. But, enough is enough. truly.

you’ve been picking up everyone else’s broken pieces you didn’t even feel it when your heart broke along the way. forgotten promises and high expectations. sometimes not even that high! 

you’ve given them all you had and now you have nothing. there’s only so much a person can take. I mean what happened to give and take?

I’m thinking I have all the reasons to give up. I have built a logical case for myself. my motives are actually just one: self-preservation. 

I need a little more laughs in my life and a lot less teeth-clenching and nervous break downs. 

blogging, Inspiring, random thoughts, wisdom, writing

A slight fever

Yesterday night, while I was in bed suffering from the effects of a slight fever and a brutal cold, my mind decided that I will not be getting any actual rest, and that for some reason, it was essential to think about myself. AGAIN. because it’s all about me. At one point I stopped trying to think of green landscapes and the sound of a faraway river, even though it always helps me sleep, last night was different. I could tell.

I was proud of myself. Proud of the person I became, of the person I’m becoming. I’m completely aware of the fact that I haven’t exactly achieved much. but the feeling still stands.

I don’t know how to ride a bike. I don’t know how to swim. I can’t get a driving licence because the idea of running someone over paralyses me. I, somehow, always mess up with people, and even objects. I get really nasty if someone is stepping into my personal space. I cry over commercials of diapers and happy families and while watching any talent show out there. I can hold a grudge like no other. I always, ALWAYS react like a loony when I see a rainbow. and In case you are wondering, I don’t consider any of these things flaws. They are a part of who I am.

And while these things are just weird, I also have a normal side (whatever normal means). I love my family very much. And I’m crazy about my besties. I’m blessed with people who love me just as much as I love them. I’m decently perceptive when it comes to people. I can read them just fine. Which is also a problem, because I don’t really have any drama in my life whatsoever. The solutions easily come to my mind. My life is uncomplicated, which is great because I get physically sick when I’m confused or anxious about something.

I am a person who refuses to absorb what I’m told and would rather make up my own mind. I’m smart enough not allow whatever is happening around me to affect my inner peace. And by that I mean the crazy assumption that women are supposed to look/act a certain way. And it pains me to see that not many have enough confidence to be who they are and relish it, instead of trying to look like everyone else. Full lips, long hair, sharp eyebrows, fake lashes, painted nails, cosmetically enhanced breasts and an abnormally curvey behind. Seriously though. Who are they trying to impress really ? Men ? Themselves ? I just don’t know. I only know that it’s wrong. You are NOT suppsed to look like everyone else. It’s just outrageous and sad, Especially when I see ten year old girls being affected by all this. God knows that when I was ten, my only worry was getting the next issue of my favorite comic book, and reading it in one go. So here I go again. I’m proud of myself of being okay with all the mess that I am. For not trying to be someone I’m not, even if it means having an embarassing history of first dates, and a non-existing romantic life. Or the fact that I constanctly have to question whether or not I’m good enough.  I accept it all, the good and the bad. And despite the conviction that some people have concerning the bad side of everything. I think that we should feel it all. Feel despair and anguish. Feel lonely and cold, because how are you going to truly enjoy the difference the lack of these things make. I am what God made me, and I owe all that I am to Him and Him alone. I don’t need to explain anything to anyone, and I sure as hell don’t need to submit to what society thinks I should be.

I will live my life however I see fit. I will enjoy chocolate cakes and glorious sunsets. I will cry myself to sleep If I feel lonelier than ever. I will love the people who love me. and I will read as many books as I can.

I will let it be.

blogging, random thoughts, TRAVEL, Uncategorized, writing

Random thoughts of a neurotic brunette

I lay on the floor of our rooftop and stare at the night sky. Looking at the sky always made me forget about all the nonsense that is going on in my life, and in the world. I think about how the city smoke hides away the stars and if I was a few miles away I could make out a thousand of them shining like torches up there, in that enormous, intimidating sky and how insignificant it makes me feel… I think about Aliens and whether or not they exist. Both possibilities terrify me so I stop thinking about that and instead think of the people that came into my life and left. Broken hearts and forgotten last names. All I remember are fractures of what we had. Friendships that were not meant to last forever. And dreams that were altered by reality, reshaped, dreams that were restructured and broken down, little by little., like that one name you write on the sand and wait anxiously for the water to erase it because you don’t want anybody else to see it. Like a silent prayer.

 I think of that crush that went on for far too long. I think about that line where the sky meets the sea, where it’s almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. And I feel my heart flutter and then stop, because I know there’s a possibility I will never know what’s on the other side. People I could meet. Places I could see. The great Unknown, but that is such a depressing thought so I try to think of something a little more cheerful, I think about cupcakes and burgers and Lasagna. I think about warm afternoons spent in bed with a book that makes me gasp, pull at my hair, scream and cry. I think of the leather bound notebooks I want to own and ancient libraries that I want to visit and the old books I want to burry my nose in. I think about that letter she wrote and where it might be, because I can’t find it anywhere. and I think about the books that made feel so many emotions I have never felt around a human being.  I think about the me that is me and can’t stop thinking about everything. EVERY.SINGLE.THING. The cold breeze that is making my cheeks sting and my eyes water. The soft socks my dad bought me. That one time I didn’t kiss my mom back when she said goodbye. I think about my dying grandfather and my heart aches because I never want to experience what real loss is.  My eyes start to water for different reasons and my nose tickles and I know I’m about to cry, but I don’t want that, so Instead I think of that one feeling that never really goes away. That one thought that is always in the back of my mind. That there’s something missing in my life. That I could do so much more. And It frightens me, because what If I die before I never experience that fullness, that wholesomeness I’m always craving? Even worse, what if it’s not meant for me?

Uncategorized

My father broke my heart before any man had a chance to. I can’t even remember how we switched roles. wait, I can try. I think it was a little after I graduated high school. I was a teenager. A wise one at that.

No.

I think it happened when I was in middle school, back then I was a kid. Still a kid. I wanted nothing but making them proud. I had to be perfect. Perfection was possible if I got excellent grades and kept quiet when grown ups talked, even though I thought they were stupid and dramatic.

I wanted to please them and compensate on the years they have spent worrying about whether or not I will make it out alive. Praying to God to cure me. I did it unconsciously. Being a teenager meant nothing to me. The only reckless thing I did back then was abandon my braids and get a short hair cut.

When I started high school it started to sink in. My life was different from the other kids’. I kept striving for perfect and did achieve it. At least Academically. At that point I wasn’t just a quiet person. I was reclusive. It’s like I put my life on hold, for them. But then it clicked and I wanted to have friends, because, I ,apparently was a little lonely. That was the first lesson. PEOPLE WILL USE YOU, CHEW YOU UP, And spit you out.

By the time I made it to college I was a new person. I had made rules for everything. I can’t not have friends, but I can choose who to let in. I was so into it I didn’t notice the signs at home.

My dad was using drugs.

I cried into my pillow that night and couldn’t sleep. It felt like someone ripped my heart out and walked all over it and It still feels like that every time I look him in the eyes. I felt naked and fragile and couldn’t walk the streets without flinching evrtime anyone came close to me.

They can see your hurt.

I think that was when I decided that being weak wasn’t an option. the world was my responsibilty and I had to fix it. that was also when HE decided that It would be great If I took care of everything and went from  the girl with the world at her feet to the girl whose only concern is paying for rent and getting food on the table. It couldn’t be that bad. I loved my family and I still do, I would literally die for them, but something was off about the whole thing.

How did they accept the idea of me living my life for them and altering my life choices just so that I can be with them? Is that what love is?

I know how hard it is to try and change a person and you shouldn’t. people change by themselves, but If I was hurting someone with the way I treated them, with my choices, I would definitely think it over.

But I can’t stop thinking about him dying and not appreciating his life and me losing him, and not having helped even though I could. So I love him through and Through. I give my life to him the way he once gave me his. I don’t stay out late because he needs me around. I don’t go out with guys because I can’t. I don’t dye my hair pink because why. I don’t talk back because that’s rude. I don’t cry in front of people because that’s a sign of weakness. I don’t get too attached because they will hurt me. and I really, really, really can’t get through another heart break.

And I live in books. I love books.

letterstomyself, Uncategorized, WRITING

A Dandelion

 

dandelion

I don’t want to break free. I don’t want to have to.

I want just to be. 

I want to close my eyes and fall and trust that the person on the other side will catch me.

Believe that they won’t let me fall.

I want to walk the streets without having to cross my arms over my chest or tug my shirt down self-consciously.

I don’t want to second guess everyone who’s trying to get closer to me.

I want the trees to be greener and I want the kids to play outside and not be stuck in a classrom at age 5.

I don’t want there to be rapists or criminals.

I don’t want there to be hurt.

I want my grandfather to live forever.

I want to feel good enough.

I want to sleep on the sand, under the sky, at night and not be afraid of anything.

I want to climb the highest mountain and scream at the top of my lungs.

I want to stand up for weak people and children and awkward teenagers.

I want a dog.

I want to be hugged daily, because hugs warm my heart.

I want to grow old with my bestfriends and watch them fall in love over and over.

I want to write books. Good books. 

I want to believe in myself enough to go through with it.

I don’t want to feel scared of living anymore.

I want to meet my classmates in Kindergarten and laugh at how stupid and innocent we were. 

I want to paint a room.

I want to have my own someone.

I want to be brave enough to admit that I don’t want my own someone.

I NEED my own someone.

 

 

 

 

 

Uncategorized

NO BS

This time I will not complain about anything. I won’t go on and on about how terrible I feel or how shitty everything is.

I will only feel blessed.

I will be grateful for everything I have. Things that so many people wish for.

I’m grateful for my warm clothes, bed, the roof on my head and the food in my tummy (and other places)

I am grateful for parents who rush to shower me with love and care whenever I’m feeling sick or troubled (which is pretty often). These people who would sacrifice whatever they have just to see me smiling.

I am grateful for the books I grew up around.

I am grateful for siblings who scare the shit out of me when they fight, but warm my heart when they call and check up on me.

I am grateful for friends who are way more than that. I don’t even think there’s a word to describe who they are to me. they are a bunch of people that I literally can’t live without. People who are there when I need them and even when I don’t, because, seriously, it’s not about need anymore. they are always in my face and I love every second of it. ( figuratively speaking)

I am grateful that I have people I can talk to and miss when they are not around. and I can’t even begin to talk about how they changed me.

I am grateful the air I breathe, the body I have and everything that is allowing me to type these words into the ether today.( including wireless internet)

I am also grateful no one I know can read these words and know just how much they mean to me, because they’ll end up knowing way more if they keep reading through the other posts this blog.

 

 

 

blogging, TRAVEL, TRAVELLING, writing

Untitled

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I left Morocco on the Fourth of September on a quest for myself and other mysterious things. Now I’m back and I’m changed and not in the way I was expecting.

I went to Turkey, which is not very different from Morocco, culturally speaking. At first I was completely flustered by how many people lived in Istanbul. I don’t mean just in numbers, they came from all nationalities, from every part of the world.

Walking the streets and hearing different sounds and words made me panic. Their presence was so strong that it made me dizzy I had to hide in stores just to get some room to breathe and calm myself down. All I could think about were the smells and sounds and colors and the people and how small I was compared to all that is the world and how I just couldn’t get passed the pressure that was weighing down my chest.

It was terrible the first few weeks, I even stayed in for days without seeing a soul, but I knew I had to get it together, because I didn’t travel to another continent to lay in bed and read books, so I did. it worked because I stopped thinking of myself as a separate entity of what was going on, I thought of myself as an essential part of the whole.

I’m just another foreigner walking down the streets of Istanbul. A stranger who left her job, family and friends to look for independence and for answers.

It took me two months to realize that I had been asking the wrong questions, even worse, I was not going to get any answers unless I was willing to stop lying to myself and get to know who I really was.

What I was and still Am, is a Twenty-three girl who is terrified of taking risks. Pep talks don’t help me much. I think myself out of things all the time and always convince myself that If I am not comfortable with something I shouldn’t have to do it. Be it a book, a job, a relationship, or even changing my order when I go to mcdonald’s.

I was a quitter.

I am a quitter, still.

I quit books because they challenge me.

I quit jobs because I don’t want to give more.

I quit relationships because I am not comfortable with people getting too close.

I quit everything that unsettles my quiet, comfortable pace.

Comfort is a very important word in my little universe.

A person told me that the only way to shake all this fear away  is by jumping straight into life and dealing with whatever is thrown my way. I nodded my head and said true, but inside I was singing a no no symphony. not me, not happening, not now, not ever.

I even remember one of my bestfriends telling me that I have no control whatsoever over what happens to me, I only have the illusion of being in control. She said that it is tiring to keep tense all the time while it’s evident that whatever is meant to happen will. she said I have to let go and let things be, that was two years ago. Yes, It was good enough to get me thinking about it for a while, but not to act on it.

So being In Turkey only helped highlight my problem. I didn’t find any answers, I just had more questions. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life. or how to stop being insecure about everything, the only thing I know is that Only I can fix it.

And you know what, with all the horror spreading in the world, I got myself a perfect excuse to just sit and watch, because how selfish would I be If I keep thinking about my chronic disorders when people are dying across the globe and the ice is melting?