Tag Archives: understanding

Being Anti-social

I’m anti-social. Sometimes. Depending on the people and the circumstance and the time and space and the atmosphere.

I’m semi anti-social or partial anti-social. Or maybe 3/4th anti-social. Or maybe 1/4th anti-social. But the point is that I’m anti-social regardless of how non-anti-social I want to be.

I get nervous around people I’m not used to. Unconsciously, I sink into that dark part of my brain that I dread going into because I drown in questions. Like why do you have that scar on your arm? Were you abused? Did you self-harm? Was it an accident? Why do you have that dark look in your eyes? Do you worship the devil? Does the devil worship you? It’s like I want to know everything about everyone. Maybe because it gives me a clear perspective of where I stand. Am I comparing myself to them? Maybe? Or maybe like Einstein, I’m generally curious about everything and everyone. Like why is chlorophyll green? Why are all the other colors absorbed but green reflected? Why freaking Green? Why not purple? Can we time travel if we travel at the speed of light? What is light? Is it just the absence of darkness? 

Got side-tracked: but when I meet new people or old people I’m not used to, I start observing them like test subjects. Experiment vs control- Where I am the control and everyone else is the experiment.  I notice their actions, the way they speak, the way they interact, the way they smile. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe because in my mind I see everyone as a threat and observing them makes the threat lessen. I honestly don’t know why this happens? It’s like my mind goes into this frenzy and then there’s chaos. Maybe there is some deep unconscious trauma that I can’t pinpoint. Maybe I just overthink which ends up making everything worse for myself.

Some people I meet are the kindest ever, yet I go into this mode. And the worst part is people think I’m creepy because I stare at them way too long or they think I’m showing superiority or attitude when honestly all I’m trying to do is make myself approachable and social.

Picture from pexels

Needing Validation

Why is it that sometimes… no matter how many mountains I climb, or how many oceans I sail, or how many bridges I burn I don’t see myself the way I want to. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to rise to a place where I want to be. It’s like the mountains keep on growing, and day by day I become smaller and smaller.

It’s like I’m stuck in this little plateau and the only thing I can do is jump off it. I could crash, or I could fly. The latter seems more likely. But I am at that point where pain seems like a better option than this feeling of being empty. At least that way I’ll feel something. The numbness creeps up on my skin and takes a hold of my being, making me feel like a hollow body without a soul.

I feel like no matter how many accomplishments I kiss, no matter how many victories I embrace, I won’t ever be satisfied because my heart is not content. I feel like I need validation from people close to me like a child in preschool needs validation from a teacher. I need the people around me to tell me I’m doing a good job because that’s the only way I’ll be convinced. I need people to tell me I’m good for me to believe it, which is bad because when I don’t get the validation I plunge into this hole of self-doubt.

I can look in the mirror and chant, “I’m amazing. I’m beautiful. I’m awesome,” day and night, but I won’t believe it, not until someone comes and tells me those things. The people around me don’t realize but their words have a huge impact on me. Sometimes their words hit like knives and bullets and sometimes they act as a salve. Even the tiniest gesture or a simple sentence could hit like a bomb and I would find myself thinking about it for the next eon.

A person could come and tell me I’m a psychopath and I would believe them because my brain is wired to listen to the outside voices, rather than the voices in my head. This is one of the most toxic traits you can have because it leads directly toward self-destruction and that’s the one thing I’m good at. Destroying myself. The worst form of abuse is the one that comes from within because at the moment you become your biggest enemy and there’s nowhere to run.

If someone told me I was ugly, I would agree with them and I would feel uncomfortable in my own skin and if someone told me I was beautiful, I would make myself believe that I’m worthy of being on the cover of Vogue magazine. Sounds stupid. I know.

Imagine having a computer and you need to reset it or fix it. The first thing you’ll need to do is turn it off, then take out the wires, untangle them and plug them back in. You might even have to reboot it. It takes effort and time, and fear that your ‘useful’ information will be lost with all the useless information.
That’s how rewiring your brain is like. You have to detangle yourself and, in the process, you might even cause more damage, but the best thing is that every form of damage is reversible and curable.

Rewiring your brain is hard. It’s not, ‘oh let me shut my brain off and turn it back on like a computer.’ It’s more of ‘oh shit, this was wrong’ or ‘oh snap I should’ve done that,’ but that’s how you learn. That’s how you progress. That’s how you break bad habits, by replacing them with good ones.

I’m working on myself, by making amends and filling in holes that I have because I was too busy doubting myself. Too busy looking for someone else’s approval. I’ve started listening to that soft voice in the back of my head now. It’s not always nice, but it’s there… dim… and barely audible.

Political games

Let’s wrap ourselves
in these political games
Let’s call it propaganda
and throw out blames
Let’s kill more people
and say it was a mistake
Let’s celebrate the spilling of blood
with coffee and cake.

Let’s take selfies
and watch little kids die
Let’s pray for forgiveness
while we burn you alive
Let’s divide ourselves
in these small little nations
Let’s believe in God
but slaughter his creation.

TIMES UP
Now pick up your bodies
and get out of our land
Just a peaceful message
hope you understand.

Sometimes the monsters we’re trying to kill are residing inside of us. We fear weapons of mass destruction will fall into the wrong hands, but how clean are ours? We act like we’re saints while the rest of the world is filled with sinners. I wrote my first book “The City of Saints,” to show that humans will find whatever excuse they can to start a war. It could be religion, ethnicity, skin color and in this case eye color. The protagonist of my book is a ten-year-old girl, Nuha Edel, whose trapped in a war her elders have started. She’s naive, witty and smart, but innocent. I wrote the book to show that history always repeats itself. The place, time and people are different but the events taking place are the same.

The robots in my book represent the oppressors, and how they’re exactly like us, but we see them differently because that’s what we’re taught. The robots or cyborgs are programmed to kill, but humanity gets the better of them. SAM (Specialized Assassin Military-bot) says, “I have a mind of my own, but I am not allowed to think.” It’s the concept of the “OTHER” and “FRIEND AND ENEMY”. Just because someone disagrees with you they’re considered you’re enemy. Just because someone is different they’re portrayed as evil and vile.

“We fear weapons of mass destruction will fall into the wrong hands, but how clean are ours.” Why do we see others as a threat when we’re no less of a threat either? If we all want peace, then why are we fighting. Maybe because we all have our own versions of peace. Maybe because my version of peace does not align with yours. Maybe we need a common ground.

I wrote “The City of Saints,” as a way to show that history always repeats itself; the people, time, place, and events would be different, but the end result would be the same because we as humans refuse to change. We’re all quick to play the blame game, but we refuse to take responsibility. Why? Why are we like this?

Finding Happiness

Do you ever have those moments where everything that could go wrong, goes wrong? Where you’re trying so hard to understand what role you had to play in this destruction, but you can’t seem to find any. Where the sky breaks apart, and you’re just standing there wondering why things are happening the way they are. The land beneath your steps shakes like an earthquake, and you plunge straight down in the core of the earth.

Everything you stood up for comes tumbling down. All the things you did in life replay like a movie, and you’re counting every single memory wondering if you ever did anything wrong to deserve this. And you find so many flaws and loopholes in this small life of yours that you accept everything that is happening because you deserve it. Because you’re an inconvenience in a world that is supposed to be perfect. Because you’re a blemish in the face of beauty.

That’s how I feel right now. Like a huge chunk of my chest is missing, and I don’t know where it is. Like there’s a hole in my heart, and all the happiness is leaking through; I can’t seem to keep it in no matter how hard I try.

Like water, contentment is flowing through the gaps in between my fingers and no matter how hard I try to grasp it, I can’t seem to hold it in. All I have are empty palms, and I keep looking at them in hopes that they’ll miraculously be filled. But they never are.

It’s this odd feeling of emptiness that takes away so much energy. Like you’re trying to create happiness from whatever source you can, but it’s time-consuming and it’s hard. It’s like forcing a lump of coal to transform into a diamond. It’s like forcing the sun to come out at night.

It’s hard fighting this emptiness, so you give in to this feeling of despair because the war you’re fighting isn’t worth the damage. But the most ironic thing is that no matter how hard you try to avoid being injured, you end up with wounds so deep that no salve can cure them. The war you’re trying to avoid is forcibly kissing you on the lips.

I guess life has a way of dragging you back to the starting point. Maybe because the road you were taking wasn’t yours to take. Maybe the victory you dreamt of wasn’t in your destiny. Maybe your whole direction was wrong, and life is trying to point you to a path that has your name written on it.

But we’re stubborn. We refuse to see what we can’t comprehend. Sometimes the only thing we can do is have faith. Have hope. Believe. Happiness is like a butterfly. The more you run after it, the more it’ll fly away. Just stay still. Be calm, and happiness will come to you, and it will settle down in between your palms on its own.

Photo by Murilo Folgosi from PexelsCopy

You will never be like her…

She’s a garden of solace
with roses as sweet as honey
but you will never be like her.

She’s the ecstasy of desire
with blind intoxication
but you will never be like her.

She’s the warm breeze
among harsh winds of winter
but you will never be like her.

She has the treasures of knowledge
the mind of a genius
but you will never be like her.

She has the perfect lips
that warriors would fight for
but you will never be like her.

She is the brightness of the sun
casting rays of hope
but you will never be like her.

She has the confidence
of a thousand knights- ready for war
but you will never be like her.

She’s an image of perfection.
A wish. A want.
But you will never be like her.
Never.
Ever.

Look in the mirror
and you will see a worn-out dream
layered in residues of storms and gales
you’ll see a monster with skin
as old as time
and hair as wrenched
as the erupting volcanoes
you will see wounds smothered in darkness
and smiles as fake as blackened hearts.

Darling
you are not her
and you will never be.

She is the crescent moon
and you are a blemish.
She is the purity of the ocean
and you are a stain.

But love, It is okay.
It is alright. You don’t need to compare
your rays to someone else’s light.

Your imperfections are making you stronger.
But what I don’t understand
is that in a world where you can be anything
why would you want to be her?

Photo by Chait Goli from Pexels