Sunday, 9 February 2014

Chocking Over a Rising Sun (A Short Story)

Chocking can be experienced in one of two cases; either you’re chocking on your own death, or you’re chocking on emotions and feelings that you can’t express. Not being able to express emotions is ruthless on its own account, and when persists for an ample duration of time, it turns into a killing symptom that can be identified medically as chocking. Here it’s metaphorical of course, but it’s psychologically fatal nevertheless. That’s what happened to her after not being able to identify her illness on the appearance of the first symptoms of emotional malfunction.

It was like cancer cells spreading, it was eating her from the inside out, and she was unable to assist with reversing its destructive actions. She couldn’t run, neither could she hide. After all, how could someone run from himself but to himself? The thing is, herself was vacant and irresponsive to her calls to snatch her from her trips. This mediator inside of any of us was malfunctioning as a result of the feelings left unsaid and undetermined within her; they were chocking her on words not expressed but carved in the back of her head with a fire blade that was hammered on a volcano fire. The invincible version of her has gone, leaving her only to the one that she can’t tolerate; her vulnerable soul.

As complicated as implied, this is only a mere reflection of her tangled mind. Her inability to act against the combat taking place within her was only a result of suppressing it for too long. Being always the one staying strong can be as devouring as acknowledging one’s weaknesses and helplessness. It isn’t one of her traits to come clean about something that bothered her, she has always been a Woman of Steel.

Now, everything can only be seen through the gaps that she left for herself by her prints; a life so blurry with no definitions. Her pain set everything on fire, melting the snow that was covering her heart. The sun which rose on the following day was cold enough to condense the vapor of her rage, leaving everything in the darkness of her despair. Her aching soul can be seen through the watery glare, hovering on the gloomy city, the city of her numbed mind. She’s waiting for the right time to strike back with full force, taking her revenge upon the days that caused her vanity.

She exploded, she flipped the switch and broke through her bars. Her words, although not conveyed, were expressed through her actions breathing fire. Her anger turned into a kind of invincible strength, a kind that she didn’t know existed in her. It seems that the sun that crystalized her rage is the same sun that washed her agony away by intensifying her aches and burns, turning them into a kind of fueling power for her to pursue her life course. Her act of mutiny against herself and the world only resulted in a battle that ended with a tie and a new power conquering the two foes under one rule, her rule. The maneuvering ended when she discovered that she’d ran out of places to resort to so she can only now resort to herself knowing that it was herself from whom she was hiding. By accepting herself and her temporary phase of timelessness, she gained back her sense of time and her faith in herself.

Accepting one’s helplessness and weaknesses is only one way to discover the strengths that one has. Complying with the urge of breaking from one’s self can sometimes be healthy. After all, there is always a new dawn after every killing darkness and there is always a shining sun to dry the rain and melt the snow. Vulnerability as another face of strength, you should experience helplessness to challenge your potentials and know your extremes. My Friend to whom I’m dedicating this, you’re one of the strongest females I’ve met, you’re persistent and self-assured and self-confident. You’ll get over this phase of depression, as long as you’re breathing. You’ll be fighting because you give me strength and I am not willing to be deprived that by you. 

Dedicated to Deena Heggi <3 I Love You :*

Friday, 7 February 2014

Ache (FSF)

Hosted by Lillie McFerrin's Five Sentence Fiction:

Nothing can be seen but through the gaps left by her prints on the windowpane; a life so blurry with no definition. Her pain set everything on fire, melting the snow that was covering her heart.

The sun which rose on the following day was cold enough to condense the vapor of her rage, leaving everything in the darkness of her despair.

Her aching soul can be seen through the watery gleam, hovering over the gloomy city. She’s waiting for the right time to strike back with full force, taking her revenge upon the days that caused her vanity. 


I Believe (Article)

I’ve always believed that art doesn’t come out of nothingness, art is an inspiration and inspiration needs some kind of a catalyst. This catalyst is either an outer or an inner force, and usually the inner force comes from another outer force so it’s basically an outer force that directs our inspiration. Inspiration therefore is an instinct, a kind of matter that, is according to physics, isn't created or destroyed.

Phrasing it that way leads to the conclusion that all the contents of any kind of art is already there, just waiting to be discovered and spoken off. This makes music a translation of the instincts and a certain emotion that the composer once felt. Similarly, it makes a painting a reflection of the inner psyche of its painter. Writing and movie production then are not irregulars to this equation.

Once I think of it that way I realize that Romantic Movies are not just a production made to sell by playing on the emotions of the spectators. No one is creative, creation is just there and waits to be translated and written out and publicized and made known to the world. This already existing creation thus comes in the form of art, any kind of art. Accordingly, movies like The Notebook, for example, do occur in real life, even if not known to us, they are similar to such a story.  Movies like Warm Bodies also do exist, if we put the metaphors aside of course. While looking at the core or the message of these movies I reach only one conclusion or only one purpose; they are made to make people believe.

After World Wars I and II people lost belief. They lost belief in whatever can be believed in. they lost faith in God, humanity, purpose of existence, they lost belief in love as it only caused pain as a result of the dramatic end and loss created by the wars. They had only one belief left, they believed in pain and misery.  While watching this kind of movies, ones like The Notebook, Pearl Harbor, Warm Bodies, Titanic and a lot more, I realize that the reason for which such kind of art exists is to make us believe again.

Thinking about that, I don’t deny the fiction and fantasy of course included in these works. I don’t deny that these works contain a certain portion of materialism, fantasy and illogicality. Yet, when disregarding all of the elements and only concentrating on the message of the power of love, we can find that there is still a hope in meeting such kind of sacrificial love. There is a belief in the power of love and the more you believe the more you’re most likely to meet it for real and live with it forever. For that kind of thought and for such overwhelming emotions of love, I want to say that I believe. I do believe that love is so powerful and sweet and the more you believe in it, the more you’re most likely to meet it for real and live a story that would sweep you off your feet and carry you far away into the stars that never die or get their light extinguished. I do believe in love and I’ll be waiting for it when it knocks my doors and smash my windows, forcing itself inside. I do believe in love, so do you?



Thursday, 6 February 2014

A Perfect Fit

"Ok, just push it a little harder here
A little more there
Squeeze it in, lower your head a bit
There is still a little space here in which your feet can fit
Ok, now fold your arms and hold yourself together
PERFECT!
A perfect fit in in the drawer
Just your size, how delightful!"

She’s pushed in and made to fit 
Into the nearest drawer to the ground
Of course she can’t be stored in the one above it
Or the drawer would break
After all it cost a lot of money 
We won’t afford paying for its repair!

She is SQUASHED in!

It doesn’t matter, she’ll get used to it
After a couple of minutes she’ll go numb
Her feet would go cold
Her head would be hit by a burning headache
Then her nostrils would hurt like a bitch 
But we will save the drawer from breaking
A five stories drawer costs a lot of money 
Besides, she doesn’t mind!

She doesn’t know how to mind!
You stuffed her in
A girlish drawer with roses on its side
So pretty and well manufactured 
Made to store her life, her growth and her mind;
It’s made to store her in!
A perfect match, just a little bit squeezed
A little bit suffocated and a little bit hurt
It doesn’t matter, she made a perfect a fit!


Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Affair

Originally written on 14/04/2013

**************************************

I feel like I was born with your love in me
Flowing in my veins, in my blood
I get ignited with the smell
With the look, with the touch
With everything that would get my senses awakened
I was up

I know that it's not normal
These excessive emotions
It’s psychic and unhealthy
It's  destructive, leading to insanity

I love you,
I know it every time we speak 
I confess it to myself
That lonely shattered emotions
Those shadows devouring my heart 
And clouding my head
Provoking me to scream it out
Scream it aloud

I love you
With all the instincts that I have
With the senses that I posses
With my love for music and writing
With my body and soul 
I love you

I want you to carry me afar 
I’m lurking for your everything, 
Your touch, your smell, your looks 
and your enchanting spell that you put me under

If I was to be sentenced to death
And I was to make one last wish
I’d be asking for you
My love
Our affair is of no match among human relations
It’s beyond conventions
My drug, my mediator between my senses and my blows
My sin and my secret keeper
Hear me as I call you forth,
Writing my vows and swearing my allegiance!


Within Temptation (A Short Story)


Sahara Band_The Chord 



“The girls tell me that I’m irresistible” he used to tell me that and I used to make fun of him and tease him about it. Deep inside of me I’ve always known that he was right; he was irresistible to me; I loved everything about him. I loved his wretchedness and my feelings toward him as a puzzle that needed solving. I’ve always liked riddles and he was the biggest riddle I’ve ever come across. In his clarity I read entanglement, in his smile I read pain and mystery and in his kindness I read monstrosity. He is the most uncertain certainty that anyone can meet; he is the one I want.

I’ve been suppressing my emotions toward him for five years now. I meet him five years ago and I’ve always felt something towards him, an unidentified emotion that I can’t call love neither can I call it a crush. It is something in between both; an uncertain truth just like he is.  I cared for him as a friend and I treated him as one, he did exactly the same with me. He cared for me and loved as a little sister.

At the beginning I used to tell myself that it’s only something normal, I’m still eighteen and he is cute and masculine, it’s normal to feel such feelings toward him as I’m a teenager still. I kept suppressing my feelings and kept redirecting it towards anything else but him. It worked for me just fine and helped me sustain my relation with him on the border of friendship for almost four years.

I really came to know him in the third year, we were studying together, myself, him and a couple of our friends as well. We were a group of five and I was the only girl amongst them. In the first year we knew each other I was just the invisible girl, as usual. I was only known for my temper and my annoyingly loud voice. I had “DANGEROUS, Don’t approach or you’d suffer a tragic death of electrocution” written all over me. I was described as an erupting volcano that never sleeps and a couple of things more. AN ULTIMATE DESTRUCTION, I was. I was the reckless, messy girl who cares about nothing and going her own way, setting her mind on whatever made no sense whatsoever. I liked that about me; I was building my own fortress and hiding inside of it. I was hiding from temptations; my own temptations, his temptations, the temptation of the world; I was hiding from myself within myself. It is like when you’ve ran out of places to resort to so you resort to yourself knowing that it’s yourself from whom you’re running.

The first moment I realized my growing affection towards him was when I watched him sleep. He had an angelic face that I can never forget and a load of pain that I can never ignore. Accompanying that was a smile that torn me to pieces along with my own distorted self. Watching him sleep was igniting; he awakened the sleeping giant within me, causing my volcano to burst out with an enormous speed, maybe even equal to that of light. The burn inside of my heart was so painful that it kept me from breathing and rushed chocking tears, so salty, to my eyes. I felt that it was an invitation not uttered to come into his world, the one he kept from others, or maybe that’s what I told myself. We talked, I talked with him as freely and openly as I’ve never talked with a man before. He gave me the opportunity to come into his mentality and just when I thought I solved his riddle I discovered that I was taking his riddle into me, I was becoming the riddle I wanted to solve. That’s what made me love him even more than I could have ever perceived.

He told me his secrets and I opened up for him about mine. He knew the things that I would kill to keep from others, men and women. I just talked as if talking to myself and he didn’t mind. He loved seeing this part of me, or so I think. He was my person, and he is still. In him, I saw my lost self. I saw the man that reflected my insanity, indifference, sexuality and monstrosity. I kept suppressing it all and called him an “Affair”. He was, and still is, one of those who you fantasize about yet you know that he can never be yours because he can’t; being together is just against the cosmic order, an un-heavenly union of two broken yet fighting souls. Rebels against ourselves we both were.

It all inevitably exploded, showing itself to my acknowledgment, in the manner of “You ignore me, you die” that I was falling for him. I was falling for everything about him. It was clear for him as well; an approaching that was never meant to be. I am the kind of the person who can never hold back his guts. I hinted it out that I was into him and he knew that I knew that he knew about my feelings but he waited for me to expose them myself. He waited for the words to come out of my mouth and expose themselves so that he can tell me “we can’t be together because I’m not good enough for you…it’s not you, it’s me” I knew that this would come someday. I was just postponing the bombing of my own fortress by the mines I myself implanted in its vicinity; it was a self-destruction.

Just as he waited for me to say what he already knew, I too waited to listen to the words that I knew he’d say. It was like I wanted to hear him say it so that I can eradicate my undetermined emotions toward him so that we both can move on. I was holding him back unintentionally and he was holding me back in the same manner. We both needed to let it out so that we can get free of each other’s ghosts. My ghost haunted his dreams and mine, while his did the same. I saw in him my lust and he saw in me a love that is doomed to end tragically if it was given the chance to exist. We ended it before it can start, it was the wise thing to do, we both thought.

Knowing what we both knew about each other made us close even more, never ignoring one another. He was trying to keep me from getting hurt and I was trying to sustain our relationship so as not to lose each other. It wasn’t the first case in which a girl told him that she loved him, after all he was irresistible. He dealt with it well and that made me love him even more. I did what I did best, I rebuilt my fortress, convincing myself that it’ll end, and it seemed like it did after a couple of months. We both did what we thought was best for each other. We both knew that it shouldn’t have happened in the first place and it was the thing that we both never saw coming.

Just as I came clean about my feelings toward him, I came clean about “overcoming my crush on him”. I told him that I was over him as a lover and that I wanted to keep him as close as a friend can ever be. We both loved the idea that it is all going back to normal as if it has never happened. It was compelling, if I may say. I was numb towards him for a couple of months after that. Somehow I just stopped feeling anything toward him. This made me glad as well as it made him. Yet, whenever I hear badly of him I take his pain into me; feeling the same pain that he might be experiencing. I fantasized about him. I did that with whatever meaning this word might carry. I have no other expression to use instead of that one and I don’t think that any other would convey what I am feeling now.

Our first encounter in months finally came. It’s been a very long time for me. I was unable to reach him as both our phones got broken and my internet connection went down. During this period there was nothing else on my mind but him; I was thinking about him by day and was dreaming of him at night. I’ve missed him so much that I would run to him, take him in my arms and clasp to him so tight and kiss him on his cheeks so as to forget how much I’ve missed him during this "long time, no see".  He was standing in front of me but I did nothing of what I wanted to do. The words were on the tip of my tongue and then I just reacted as if a cat has eaten it; my useless, coward guts.

That was when I realized that I was never over him and it was just another phase of self-destruction that I was leading myself to. It was something that he didn’t know about this time. A kind of torment that would shatter me as I’m trying to stay away from him. It’s all collapsing because it was all built on an imaginary foundation of strength that I thought I possessed. I was just as fake as my fortress was, I am the fortress that I built; I’m the temptation within the temptation he held.

As I’m writing this, I know that it might drive me to lose you, something that I hope would not happen for you are too valuable and too important to me that can’t be lost. I know it yet I’m writing it all because if I didn’t write it I would burst into flames burning myself and burning you with me. I hope that if you read this not to lose your trust in me or to kill our friendship. I wouldn’t take it and I wouldn’t be able to live with it. Just as tempting as your love was to me, writing about it was tempting too. I just wanted to tell the story the way I saw it and I wanted to give these papers the courage that I lacked in expressing everything that I have been feeling since we first met. Now I’m giving these words the power to speak my unspoken mind; to speak of the words that I opened my mouth to speak off today but I just couldn’t get out. Please forgive me for following my temptation and for falling in your love. 

Monday, 3 February 2014

Born To Die

I’m emotionally unsettled 
Sometimes I’m loving you then I'm feeling nothing
Why would I even care, I’m only born to live my life

If it’s my destiny to know
Then it’ll all be so boring
Knowing what you’re going to do is just as running in circles

So why can’t we enjoy our days
Live for life and forget our restrains
Let our wilderness show us our way, let the dark melodies vibrate

Hold me close to your heart
Let us fall in tonight
Let the moon’s light carry us and travel so far

Let your feelings stray
Let our emotions drift away 
We only have one life to live and you are born only to die

So embrace your dark side
Revel in it and with it unite
Enjoy your moments of wretchedness so when you’re dead you’d have tried

How it feels to be mean
How it feels to be kind
You only have one life to live and you are born only to die