-And My Reflection Troubles Me.

عن النوستالجيا

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sun, 13 May 2012 16:56:00 +0000

How many songs that remind you
how many inside jokes
how many streets
how many words
how much loneliness
how much self-soothing
how many falls

does it take to kill you?

The Mirror

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 00:12:00 +0000

via here

She narrowed her eyes into slits and told me that I'm not invisible no matter how much I want to be..that all these frail trapped lines will surface whether I liked it or not. She said that when the storm breaks loose, I'll be on my own.

and I told her that it didn't matter.

I lied.

Point blank

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 14:37:00 +0000

A while back I thought one could write about anything, you could pour your mind and soul onto paper and let go. I have come to understand that it's not true; you can't write about things that change you, if they truly did change you. You can't write about how people shake your core without them even noticing. You can't write about moments of recognition or those seconds when you greet your ghosts. You can't write about those moments when time simply stops. You can't write about the great or little things because simply your understanding won't confine them, let alone words.
well of course you can translate them to words, but you won't do them the justice they deserve..or may be I'm not good enough to reconcile between two different currencies. Some things are just unequal.

Fear..patriotism..sirens..selflessness...surrealism..coffin..cameras..gloominess..heroes..injuries..responsibility..saline..the suffocating kid..empathy..convulsions..help..smiling faces..fainting girls..resistance..purpose..emotions..and lots of tear gas.

I wrote a pathetic draft about the four days I spent in the field hospital in Tahrir. I wrote about how God answered my prayers by letting me experience this..the impact. I want to write about how life seems so insignificant. I want to write about that invisible thread I'm crossing quietly, how it will change my life.

..but it is not enough.

Flames

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 17:20:00 +0000

via here

Bare words, snippets of tunes and cold were spinning in her head, chasing each other as a sport. It was too familiar, like a vague dream you can't quite put your finger on.
she waited and would have waited if it wasn't too familiar. If it wasn't too painful to be let down again.
the worst thing about a jump is the fall. Do you know how it feels to drift among skies then find yourself lying face down on the ground? It shatters you.
she has been ricocheting in between the clouds and earth for so long and it's too familiar she doesn't even remember it.
the wait disintegrates one's soul..she doesn't want any of it anymore.
she'll bear with the withdrawal symptoms like every time and brace herself with her own hands.
she'd lie still till she becomes an atom of cold air, or better yet she'd keep tumbling and meet the fresh soil at last.

And she will break her legs.

This post is dedicated to Noor because she keeps nagging me to write and I love her :)

101

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 21:46:00 +0000

It's very simple, simpler than we make it. It's a dot that we extend to a loop.
no amount of it's gonna be okays or ughs will suffice anymore.
I won the world in the lottery and people at Roulette and the randomness of it all still doesn't make sense.
Oud music..family fights..good old Cairo..that terrible headache..the same pretty vicious circles..the horrible loneliness..people watching as if I'm some caged animal --come to think of it; I kind of am.
it reminds me of Cairo traffic to a great extent.
I don't want to be sensitive, but it's not the first thing that I want and can't have..and it won't be the last.
don't you dare think I believe in anything anymore. Don't you dare expect anything from me.
I'm a freaking broken record on repeat..and I puff waves of indifference while I'm at it.
I think I'll go back to drugging/bracing myself with Fairouz and retreat.
It's very simple..I won't struggle.
Winter is coming.

The Impossible?

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 00:17:00 +0000

via here

The world is spinning.
I am pretty sure I'm making it all up, as always. I think I gave in to woven threads of imagination long ago, and I just keep clothing myself in make believe thoughts over and over again.

silence is cruel, we brew dwelling resolutions and carry them out in our own special way..the silent treatment is not a treatment to begin with, it's a punishment and a cure.

and forgive me if I am not sure we know why we're trying to cure or punish ourselves, but at least listen to me before you throw me into the prison of silence.

Yes, maybe I'm so very stupid. I'm also so very tired.

we laugh it off, when everything stops making sense; we laugh it off.

You're the world, you just don't know it yet. I do, and I'm going to regret it.

P.S. This post happens to mark the 100th entry on this blog, and I don't have any idea how that happened :)

The Tenant of Time

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 01:20:00 +0000

here

I see you standing there, one foot in the deep ocean, one foot on the white land. Your tilted head, your strong gaze towards the sky and hair everywhere in between. I sense your paper thin fear, the intricate veil. You're torn in half.

your intertwined feelings are enough to fill thousands of books, nobody will ever get what they're about but they'll be taught nevertheless. They're so simple..yet so hard to weave.

I want to shelter you from yourself, put out your conflict with a blanket; but I fear you'd drift away like the mist into the colorless space.

I don't know how to gain your trust, fiery as you are, it's hard to get closer or stay away.

you start reaching to the clouds and spreading your arms to no avail, you still don't get off the ground, past the layers.

you know the directions, you got the map of the moon engraved in your palm; you know them so well but you refuse to take a glimpse. You could be a lot of things and it scares you to death, I can tell by one look in your eyes.

you long to your thousand faces, you want to chase them and offer them a homeland in my face.

I will give you all the time there is...to be, but time is tricky. It dodges our constant attempts to seize, deceive or live it.

Your thoughts rush in streams to the sky offered by air particles to the sun, they burn and you sigh. I try to catch them with my bare hands.

the life we're living in doesn't discriminate, we will have our shares of beauty and pain. I will look at you and claim both.

we're both dazzled, you'd step into your mighty waves and I'd dig my little graves.

But I know the ending of the story beforehand, I know it so well; you'd eventually slip unnoticed and leave me wondering what went wrong.

There's nothing wrong. It's just never enough.

Disclaimer: I'm dedicating this to Basmah Aref, because her encouraging words helped me write again. (even if it's total BS, that is.)

Of Crying Trees.

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 00:28:00 +0000

Understand that need to gush my heart out. Understand it because I don’t, I never understood that power words have over my heart; It goes way back.

I hear words. I read words. I write words. I breathe words. They’re enticing me to just...be. They’re forcing themselves in front of my tired eyes and I can’t resist. I’m not sure if they have a mind of their own, or they’re just my own subconscious placing itself in the light of my presence.

I don’t know, and I’m definitely not any closer to understanding where all their determination and nagging abilities come from.

They’re messing with my already messed up head, fidgeting with my life, promising that there’s more to it. They’re painting beautiful worlds that I can belong to; I’ve never been out of here. I love this place…scratch that, I adore this place. But it’s tearing me apart in every possible way. I’m stuck in a loop and it doesn’t matter if I’m happy or sad. I’m just stuck, and it’s the first time I’ve had a clear idea about how deep this is.

Please don’t get the idea that I want to leave or something of that sort. I love my country more than anything in the world; it will destroy me in every possible way if I should leave, and well staying is doing basically the same.

I want to see the world so bad. I want to eat breakfast in France. Hug Italy. Read in Britain. Dance in Spain. Take pictures in Russia. Take a road trip in America. Gasp at Austria’s buildings. Take in Indonesia’s and Malaysia’s beauty.

I want experiences, memories and new people. I need to register everything in that little head of mine, and then come back. I want to hold all these fragments of life to end up and bloom here.

My words are asking for new adventures and I’m all up for it. I can’t risk feeling that secluded, knowing that I’m missing out on the world.

I’m missing out on me, so I agree.

Forgive and forget (HBBC)

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 18:08:00 +0000

Introduction to HBBC: http://haiku--life.blogspot.com/2011/08/meet-hbbc-members.html

Whenever I hear the phrase "forgive and forget" I hold my breath. They say it's the only way to a peaceful carefree life, and well as you know my life has never been any of that; I dwell on things and I cannot forget.
there's a time when I used to hold grudges and avenge myself, but it's long gone. I think as you grow older you just get tired of hating and paying those who hurt you back. I even used to see people who don't fight back as quitters, as if it were a competition or something.
They didn't lie; wishing someone ill is consuming, even if they deserve it. It's not the kind of energy you'd choose to live with, trust me on this.
Even when someone damages your irreparably, your revenge is depriving them from the your old kinder self. That's what you win, and what they lose, no grudge or cruel action can bring you this satisfaction.

Forgiving is easy; you just close your eyes and let them go, rise above. It feels great to be the better person in the equation, even if it means you're still the wronged one. It's the act of getting over your hurt ego that's hard, and it's okay. It must happen so you could remember. I'm all for remembering, they call it experience.

Forgetting is a divine mechanism. I am grateful for that ability that lets certain things slip unnoticed, it's a blessing. We forget so that we could move on --it's nothing new. However memories must leave some faint traces, to be processed as experience for later. The ideal forgetting mechanism for me is the one that leaves a simple reminder, the one that you recall when needed but isn't necessarily hanging around and weighing you down.

Just remember that some things are so hard to forgive and that you should not put anyone in a situation where they have to decide if they should forgive/forget about something you did, they will always be wary no matter what. It's not a pretty feeling, you know.

"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends" -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Hi.

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 20:40:00 +0000

I wear crooked glasses and many laughs. I hate caramel. I cry in movies. Good books and music make me weep. I'm not sure I want to be a dentist. Half of what I say is meaningless and not serious. I don't take myself seriously. I sniff books, I feel safe when they're around. I'm the stupidest person I know. I love helping people. Panadol doesn't work on me. I look calmer than usual. I'm not calm. My thoughts are bilingual. I talk to myself out loud. I close my eyes and surrender to the breeze. My iPod is called Breeze. I don't care about relationships anymore. Coffee. I love italics. I like high heels but can't walk in them. I spend more time thinking than doing. I want to learn French and Italian. I'm bipolar and hysterical. I love Arabic calligraphy. I never leave the house without a book in my bag. It took me days to pronounce "Dostoevsky". I love the moon. I gave up on trying to understand people. Sour > sweet. I hate racists and extremists. British accent is love. Harry Potter = My childhood/adolescence. I'm a keen listener and an avid observer. I will change the world. My driving sucks. Cliches. I believe in strange things. My wisdom teeth did not erupt till now. I love vanilla. Fairouz. I was ten when I first wrote a (silly) poem, it was in Arabic; inspired by sunrise and birds. My dad kept showing it to his friends. I will never be friends with time. I've been to only one country. I love to collect experiences. I hate change. I get hung up on details. I loathe the sun. I'm on page 300 of 776 of The Brothers Karamazov. I wish people would stop smoking. I look like I know what I'm doing but I am always kind of winging it. Sylvia Plath. I wish I had a good singing voice. My most commonly used words are كدة (like that) and عادي (that's normal). I'm practicing the violin and I suck at it. I'm making peace with my head. I rode a Tuk-Tuk once. Scorpio?. I don't have a lot of secrets. My fears are irrational most of the time. Whatever. I don't know how to ask for help when I need it. I love food. I'm short and self dependable. I don't sugarcoat words. My clothes are currently scattered on the floor. You can't touch this. We have a pet turtle. I want to hug the world. Tahrir. I'm very silly as you can see. Impatient as well. I don't eat boiled eggs. I obsess about many things that I lost track of. My faith in God is limitless. I have motion sickness. (That actually rhymed). Reality is a fragment of my imagination.

I have a seriously flawed, great life, that I'm not ashamed of.

Hi.

Of Irony

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 22:07:00 +0000

here

I have reached the end. That kind of blow that is so huge and overwhelming that your mind nearly stops trying to configure it.

Miscalculations.

Miscalculations leave you great mountains of confusion, greater than the confusion that comes out of your nostrils and runs in your veins. I failed at the only thing I managed to succeed, and it stings like hell.
at this moment I am left gazing at an ocean and I have to decide whether I will drown and save myself the turmoil, or swim, swim and swim and appreciate all the thoughts and ideas I will come up with while trying to reach a shore.
and while the second route is more plausible, the first one is easier. Easier to do alone.

I love people. I love them. But I am my own person, is that so hard to understand?
it's not. It's just hard to execute.

Just give me some time to think about it.

The birds are not flying

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 17:03:00 +0000

via here

You can consider this an excerpt from my diary, or whatever.

I might have crossed that road between madness and reality. I might have reached it and suddenly opened my eyes to realize that it's done. Just like the first seconds when you wake up, where everything intertwines and you have no memory of what's going on. You could be another person in another place; you could be anyone in those few seconds, except that I'm me and I'm here. I just don't know how I got here.

do not assume that I am upset. I hate it when people speculate my moods. What is a mood anyway? why would I choose a word that defines what I'm feeling? I experience surges of emotions each minute. Why would you want to put a label on it then?

I think I'm confused, I think I'm slowly losing the old Yasmine to a new one I'm not familiar with, yet.

my views and thoughts are changing so quickly and I can't keep up with the pace. I'm doubting everything I stand for. I'm reevaluating all the moves.

Again.

I'm 20. Twenty years old and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life. Everything I thought I wanted is not entirely what I want now. Everything I am supposed to want is nothing like what I want now. I don't want to follow the course of an average life. I don't want my days to repeat themselves till I die.

I labelled myself as a writer since God knows when. I remember once I was with someone in Virgin Megastore and I suddenly pointed at those crowded shelves entitled Bestsellers and said spontaneously; one day, my name's going to be up there.

now I hate the fact that I'm not so sure about this anymore. I hate that I can almost feel the lack of inspiration in my head.

I hate that I'm regarded as an intellectual, knowledgeable because I read a lot of books and I have a good taste in music and so on. I'm jealous, I don't want to quote books, I want to write them. I don't want to gasp at an idea or an invention, I want to generate them. I don't want to music to leave me mesmerized, I want to make out-of-this-world music.

I'm confined IN the box instead, and it's dark in there.

I'm left with nothing. I haven't figured what I want, or what I'd love to do.

I wish there weren't all these restraints. I wish they didn't always tell us what to do and how to do it. I wish my mind were active the way it used to be. I wish my wings were still working.

I should have been someone at that age, instead of a machine that's just coping.

shame.

I'll keep redefining life in my dictionary. I don't think that'll ever stop.

it's just too hard. Too hard.

but is it too late?

Through the eyes of a stranger

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Tue, 24 May 2011 12:54:00 +0000

Via here

Tell me how do you do it. Tell me how do you calm down all the tornados and turbulent winds with a single look? It is beautiful.

Tell me where I can find you in the haystack. In the rough. In the ocean.

Tell me why I saw myself standing where your soul should have been, when I looked you in the eye.

Tell me when I can stop time; it's going by so fast. I can't let go, or hold on.

Tell me what my cause is, because I feel so purposeless.

Or just don't, and proceed.

The Distal

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Fri, 06 May 2011 20:03:00 +0000

here

And so you live in a parallel world. Surrounded by your silver walls.

You eat like them but you don't grow in proportion.

You breathe the same air but you'd rather feel it on your skin than in your lungs.

You sing the same songs but your voices don't have the same wavelength, they're not on the same frequency.

You see quiet minds in their eyes but they don't hear all the buzzing and screaming in yours.

You spread your arms to fly but you never get off the ground. It's been always the same.

You look at the things they admire but you can only see ruins of nothing in particular.

You don't understand. And neither do they, but you're not supposed to.

They live in a parallel world.

The White

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Mon, 02 May 2011 22:09:00 +0000

here

I’m the color you can’t recognize.

I’m see-through but you can’t see it. I wonder what does that make you?

or make me.

I can’t pull myself together. I can’t push oxygen through my nostrils. Even for you.

the hollowness is more than I can take. The knot can not be loosened.

I’m not who I am. I am not who I was. I don’t know if I want anything to begin with.

everything seems inadequate. You can’t fill a void.

If you stare at the spiraling colors they always turn to white.

I’m the white. And you’re the ghost.

The Bittersweet

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 21:49:00 +0000

here

The hardest words to choose are always the first. The last words come around without thinking, like a spontaneous reaction; you always get to wonder why they decorated your boundaries in the first place.

but the first words, are the ones you stop to give them much thought.

it's all about beginnings.

If you chose to set my uncanny ability to mess up beginnings aside, you would have let me think how to end them. But I have found nothing, and you left me to think about what could have been.

But someday I'll wake up. Someday I'll go back to the melody I belong to. Someday I'll make perfect sense to myself. Someday we'll freeze gravity.

...and someday I'll close my eyes and reside in a circle. Upside down.

I wouldn't have to worry about beginnings or freak out about endings then.

and I'll believe it.

The recoil

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 20:46:00 +0000

here

Extremism is not good when it's extremely practiced, I can assure you.

I can't help it. I can't, it's this part that was stuck with me before I even had a name. Now the circle is closing in, now everything seems narrower.

I don't want to stand in a point, I'd rather stand on it and let the world be my horizon; for my sight is now lacking.

I speak more than I should but I'm not, really. I don't listen but in fact I do.

I owe life an apology for not participating, for thinking that my internal chaos is more important. Is it?

I'm running away from anything that defines who I am, who you are.

I'm running in reverse.

and what I do know for sure, is that I don't know.

The day the square turned into a big circle

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 02:14:00 +0000

Disclaimer: I realize this post is very cheesy and chaotically/poorly written, but just find it in you to carry on.
My parents never thought of me as a failure. They take pride in me, I know that for sure. The way they mention my college or my hobbies and activities in front of everybody indicates that.
their pride surprises me every time, and when I think about it I realize how lucky I am.
the funny thing is, the first time I felt that kind of pride was this Saturday at 11 am on my way to Tahrir (Liberation) Square. The moment I left my home and walked in the street I knew it; we were really free now. I don't know about you, but I did smell freedom.

if you know me quite well, you'd realize that I have certain issues when I'm in public. I'm not always easy going or impulsive.
if you know me quite well, you'd never believe that I was walking on a crowded bridge holding a broomstick and cleaning equipment to clean the square; all alone.
I got picked on a couple of times while I was walking, and I just...smiled.
I helped clean the square and I was removing every bit of dirt with love, I was smiling underneath my mask and to myself. I was telling myself that this bit of land I'm cleaning is worth the blood of billions of martyrs that died for it all over the years, and specifically the 400 souls in this revolution that I cry every time I see their pictures, the 400 souls that I will never forget in my prayers, and will thank every single one of them for handing me a better life and making me a better human being.
I saw thousands of Egyptians; youth and elderly, scrubbing walls, floors and carrying garbage bags to trucks. Nobody asked them to do that, they just felt it was their duty to give back now; they did it with pride.
perfect strangers were offering us food and drinks, they were supplying us with masks, gloves and plastic bags.
you know when you're standing in a large mass of people and there's this flood of feelings, that you could nearly point your finger at them?
I fail here at describing what that felt like. I will leave that to your imagination, because simply I have never felt that kind of spirit and co-operation before in my entire life; and I wish that everybody does at least once in his/her life.
it was worth every single second.
I have been trying to write for two weeks now, yet every time I tried the process of channeling feelings into words I'd fail hard. I could have written about the revolution or the celebration day, but I think that the post victory day was the most important day because that's when I literally was introduced to a whole new sense of belonging to this land, because that's when you really know if your cause really had any meaning.
the fact is, we have been oppressed for years, we have been silenced for decades and we have been deprived of our rights for ages. But all of this was wiped away the moment we chose to fight for our freedom.
I could not see a single trace of fear or agony in any human being in Tahrir Sq., I only saw optimism and determination in their eyes.
people were drawing the Egyptian flag on Tahrir's ground and repainting the pavement while other people forming a human barrier to prevent people from stepping on it.
needless to say, my eyes were full of tears. I'm so proud. I could die now and I won't worry because I witnessed a new era of Egyptian history.
yet Egypt is now free and we're still not, we have a long way now getting over ourselves and our issues for our country.
we did overthrow a dictator, but overthrowing illiteracy, corruption and idle mentalities won't happen in another 18 days, heck not even a year. Revolutions don't end, that was only the first step on a very long road.
everybody should now revolt for himself, against his unacceptable outdated ways; we do need to change for the better, we need blank pages all over again.
I have to state that on my way back home I was holding the broomstick in one hand and a McDonald's meal in it's paper bag in the other hand and I walked in the street with my head held high; I wasn't afraid I might get picked on or be perceived as a weirdo as always. I was free as well from all my silly issues.
as unreal as it feels; it was freedom for all of us.
I am not worrying about a thing now. I truly believe that I'm living in the best country among the best people and nobody could ever abuse us again.
I have hope now in tomorrow; In the power of thoughts and dreams.
I revolt.

The Confluence II

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sat, 22 Jan 2011 18:08:00 +0000

here

There's a thin line between love and hate, a thinner streak between failure and success and an invisible string between dreams and reality.

this demarcation have always existed even when you couldn't point your finger at it.

...and it seems like ages ago when she had her position behind the obscure marks, when she knew where she was supposed to be in order not to tread to the other side.

she didn't even know back then that such a spot exists, to find yourself walking on thin ice, watching your tiny steps lest it breaks underneath your feet and brings you down with all your weight; to lose the destination and no longer know where your heart truly lies anyway, all for the sake of not going down.

She keeps scaring herself. Her intensity keeps scaring her and her thoughts disturb her most of the time; the edginess they posses makes it easier to build walls to safely dwell behind.

a lot of things have happened, a lot of things have changed that she's not comfortable with yet. She got used to ignoring what she doesn't like, she deliberately drops major incidents, important news and people out of her life simply because it hurts to remember them. She laughed them away, they'd haunt her every now and then.

there's only so much she can take, a certain dose of reality she can handle.

and yet she lost the ability and the energy to even care anymore.

She doesn't want to pursue anything or anyone. She doesn't want to wait. She doesn't want to watch her steps or decide where she's going to be in relation to all the lines and writings on the wall. She doesn't want bad news anymore. She doesn't want to think about a thing. She doesn't want thin ice, ultimatums and cracks; at this very moment.

She just needs a break, to break free.

she just wants to feel.

The Confluence

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 19:49:00 +0000

here

When she finally realized that every single one of them had a piece of her, she decided not to give away the last one.

not even to you.

she's drained to the bone, every cell in her being is exasperated. But she will find some more tolerance in her and smile.

she will smile and hold the shattered pieces dearly to her heart. You're either getting the whole thing, the big puzzle or nothing at all.

And then she'll laugh at it all.

she'll giggle through the pain, the bad news and the awkward misunderstandings. She'll laugh at the inhumanity and give everyone another reason to declare that she's insane.

she'll convulse with laughter to show these perfect teeth; that's what perfect teeth are for anyway. She'll crack up because she cannot then because she can.

she'll believe everything is just fine; she'll lock reality in a drawer and swallow the key, in silence.

...and she won't even afford to care.

Oh, she will laugh.

The long, long road

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sat, 25 Dec 2010 21:16:00 +0000

here

It's not me. It's this weary path I'm on, it's consuming me from inside out and I can't stop it.

but we both know it's inevitable. I certainly know it's the only track I'm supposed to tread.

Good things come to those who wait, remember?

I've waited for so long that I can no longer grasp time, I only know now how quickly it's passing me by.

Yet I stand here uncorrected, in the middle of this empty road. And when you're halfway the confusion starts, when you're halfway you start doubting if you should turn back to your old comforting ways or take a leap of faith with all the waiting and patience that entail to win whatever you're scared of losing.

I want to show the world how proud I am with how far I've come, but nobody cares anyway. I'm the only one who's concerned with the details after all, it makes me wonder if it was of any use at the end.

I'm at this point where I'm starting to beautify the confusion with rushed opinions and stupid decisions. And I can't have that in my story now. I just can't.

I wrote you letters you will never receive, I talked to you in a voice you can't hear and I sent hundreds piercing looks you didn't understand.

..and that was a mistake.

you don't know me and I don't know anything.

I'm not ready, I just tricked myself into thinking I was.

I only want to move forward.

I only need a push from above.

The price I can't pay

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 18:53:00 +0000

here

It was never about the easy way out. It was about the only way in.

you won't get it, may never get it; but I'm tired of the games and puzzles.

I'm sick of running after waves, I'm bored with deciphering clouds and I'm done with making myself smaller to fit in your skies.

I thought all I needed were long strides on that road yet baby steps are what my hectic mind begs for at the moment, one step at a time.

One problem at a time.

I want to stand still and freeze everything as it is then close my eyes and let life twirl around me.

I want to stop waiting. I want simple. I want beautiful.

It was only a matter of time. It was always about time.

Incandescence

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 16:12:00 +0000

here

It's December; and I can't help feeling that time is playing games once again, because though this year has been the longest it still feels strange to watch it coming to an end.

Winter is here and I'm still caught up in blooming flowers, sunny days and orange maple leaves, but it has been a handful of Springs, a hundred Summers and a thousand Autumns.

...and I can't believe how quickly all of that passed into oblivion, and how some things didn't.

Today was SO cold. I was walking all alone in the cold and all I could think about is how I changed with the seasons.

this year definitely has been the worst of the 20 I went through so far. This year was the first year that God decided not to answer my desperate prayers.

This year broke tons of things in me, just to glue them back in.

I've always been apprehensive around death, and no not my own. I remember countless of sleepless nights as a kid crying my eyes out in the dark fearing that some criminal should break in and harm my family and leave me unharmed. I spent years getting these vibes and wishing that he'd kill me first and nobody has the slightest idea. And I don't remember this now and laugh. I don't. When my favorite teacher in the whole school, the person that my mom used to get so jealous of that she once cried and accused me of loving my teacher more than her, passed away and I hadn't spoken to her in a year though I knew she had cancer, I didn't shed a tear...I just hated myself in silence. I died in silence.

It was so unbelievable and fast that I was laughing in her funeral and couldn't even bring myself to stop. But that's just me, the girl who breaks down one month later in the middle of the college's Chemistry lab when she realizes she had lost someone she loves dearly forever. The one who lost herself without noticing how or when ever since.

but that was 3 years ago. And I thought that it was the worst that could ever happen.

But this year, one of my friends passed away. We weren't so close but I always thought he was a good person. The thing is, I never thought that something like this could happen, not in my world. When a friend dies because a microbus hits his STILL car that he was standing in front of, it means something is terribly wrong with this kind of world. And when I see people asking us to pray for him, I stare for a couple minutes and get shocked all over again because I still don't believe it, I feel paralyzed because some terrible things, I can't control but have to allow in my world.

and then this year as well, my best friend's dad passed away. And it was absolutely the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. It was just that I loved her dad, and I love her. I never thought I'd be able to support someone going through this kind of thing when I was heart broken for her as well. I didn't know how to be strong for her when I thought I was personally weak. I didn't know what to say and when to say it, I guess it's one of the things nobody knows how to do, somehow I just acted instead of thinking. And though it still isn't over, I'm putting my strongest face on.

and now I go back from my walk to find out that another person I was just getting to know has passed away. And that's why I decided to write this post, because I can't let myself drown into silence once again or call my best friend to tell her all about it. I feel like crying but I don't want to, I just can't handle letting myself think it's okay to fall apart, not after what I've done to put myself back in together.

some people may think I'm overrating things, and that none of them were that close to me. I just don't know what other people think about this, but I do know that I don't have it in me to accept the fact that people can just stop existing, all the time there is will never be enough to get to know one person. I'm sensitive and all, but it still is not okay.

This year proved to me that I'm still here. I'm still here and fighting for all that ever mattered. I'm surprising myself, and in my world that doesn't happen. Every action I used to do was preweighed and packaged. But I realized that I'm stronger and more courageous than I give myself credit for. I savored every happy minute of doing what I always wanted to do and I finally let go.

This year led me to believe that every disaster has some kind of good outcome, because that's the only way anything will sink in. I'm glad to have found myself and that my reflection doesn't trouble me so much now.

2010, you'll be remembered as the year that things started getting clearer...and closer.

All I could ever think about in my long walk is that though I love the cold breeze greeting my cheeks, it's okay to want to warm my hands as well, that it's okay to want to be alone after a very happy night and it's okay to be happy even if you're not cut out for happy. It's okay to be silly and clumsy sometimes and it's okay to act without thinking of the entailing consequences for a change.

It's okay to be a little different and it's okay to be yourself.

It's okay to shake hands with the past; I'm just saying.

For you, I'll believe...

Worlds collide II

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 08:21:00 +0000

here

In a perfect world, we'd be one. You'd be gentle. I'd believe in you especially those times when you don't believe in yourself. You'd be constantly amazed by me. I'd be happier. You'd think my smile can move mountains. I'd blindly trust you. You'd surprise me with your passion. I'd respect your mindset. You'd vanquish my worries. I'd find home in your voice. You'd be there for me. I'd look into your ocean-like eyes and float. You'd say I look cute when I'm angry. I'd support you even when I don't like your choice. You'd look into my eyes and see me. I'd take care of you. You'd save me. I'd fall in love with you every single day all over again. You'd appreciate that.

But it's not a perfect world. No matter how plausible that feels, no matter how it makes sense in my cloudless skies. And I believe there's a reason to why the world is flawed.

You have to understand I keep doing that for my sanity.

I do think now is the best time

noreply@blogger.com (Yasmine) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:51:00 +0000

here

Think of your favorite smell.

think of your favorite food.

think of your favorite movie.

think of your favorite book.

think of your favorite song.

...and then relive them.

think of your happy childhood memories, then recreate them.

think of your funny photos and let joy alter your face.

think about the people who remembered your birthday, your occasions and events.

think about the people who remembered you just because.

think about the people who are still there with you and those who are not.

think about the people you've been meaning to talk to, and talk to them.

think about the people you love the most, and tell them.

think about your family, and appreciate them.

think about the book you've always wanted to write, then write it.

think about the instrument you're dying to play, and just play it.

think about the painting in your mind's eye, and paint it.

think about the things that lie in the back of your mind, and place them in front of your eyes.

think of all your accomplishments and smile.

think of all the mind blowing things you're capable of, and blow minds.

think of all the places and people you want to see, and make sure you see them.

think about the mistakes you did and learn.

think about the mistakes you evaded and be proud.

think about your insecurities, then drop it.

think about the things you like that nobody else likes and feel special.

think about the weird things you do, then embrace them.

think about yourself, and see you through the eyes of someone who loves you.

think about plans and then forget them.

think of all your recollections and realize that you're the only one that has them.

think of your bottomless worries and remember it could have been worse.

think of your dreams and let them escape imagination.

think of your life then believe that everything happens for a reason.

think that the only thing standing between you and what you want, is you.

think of all the things that make you feel beautiful, and then do them.

think of all the people who once hurt you, and forgive them

think of who you were, who you are now. Then forgive yourself.

We're alive today for a reason.