The odd one

I need to learn how to be mean i said to my sister, as i sat all curled up in my blanket in my room in my safe place, i have discovered that I’m too nice on the contrary to my former beliefs that being an introvert is the synonymous to being rude but its actually quite unrelated, each is rather a single and separate personality trait. I’m not rude I’m too nice, I’m unable to say no, unable to reject an opinion, unable to say anything that could hurt any human being, unable to think of myself first, unable to let go of a one in need. I’m the odd one the introvert the nice person the one who can always be counted on, the supportive the one that wants to raise all spirits around her to a higher level. The one that forgets about raising herself , that forgets to support herself. People are using this. And i need to be mean and rude to others and nice to myself. I am worth it.

After all this time and when i thought I understood what i am like! It appears i have understood wrongly. People use my kindness and that needs to stop. How can someone learn to be mean!?

It’s my new quest, my new mission to say No! More often, to recognize the me in me more than the me i leave within others.



While in the pharmacy doing inventory work,  i heard that my boss is coming in, so i had that feeling of having to do my job perfectly, although i always do my job perfectly. and so i asked myself why do we always have to fear the person in charge? where does this kind of fear come from! for me the answer was easy because i already know how perfectly perfect i like to get my job done! and how a single lack in  detail gets me rambled up in self-doubt  but what do others fear? i kept analyzing the full of doubt shaky legs of one of the janitors as he needed to ask permission to leave for five minutes or so. that got me back to the origin of hierarchy and how most wise men connect it to order and view it as a necessity! my boss once gave me an advice ” be careful of how to express your true identity, your identity is not made for our society and most people will either use it, misunderstand it or both. know who you are but don’t treat the staff accordingly but view them as they are not as you are, and always make borders in bold lines, because in our society borders opens way for respect” his advice was of pure reality! but yet i find it hard not to see beyond the ugly truth of people into what they could be when all that dirt is shed off! so is it the need for respect,order and hierarchy or is it just a play of fear?

and so and so my boss has created this fury image around him the all high and mighty but as i look at him more and more transparently he is just as filled with fear as all of us and thus he projects it onto all of us so he wouldn’t  feel alone in all that darkness and loneliness a long history of fear creates in the soul of a person. if each one of us view him as that he ain’t that scary no more, he is border-less and without respect and that ruins the image of hierarchy in his mind and being that far living with such an image of life, that’s all he has and that’s all he treasures. he has built a kingdom around fear, fear within him, fear around him and fear of him, not that of a lone wolf but of a lonely lamb. as these thoughts was forming in my mind another question came in; why would i let a person like this critique my work to the slightest? why do i even care if he finds my work perfect or that of a slack job! is it that tench of fear he spreads as he walks! or is it the fear in me? i realized most of us grow up critiqued by our parents, neighbors, cousins, friends and more. and so where ever we go we carry that fear with us. it varies from one person to another but its the same really! it flows from the same river we were dipped in as a child! of having to be perfect but my imperfections are the things that got me this far and thus i hope that one day we all view those who spread fear as the most fearful and not the most fearless, to grow the strength to live up to our imperfections and mistakes, mistakes that can actually be  right but viewed mistakenly. trust in our ways is what makes our steps resilient. And doubt? you may have doubt and you may live with it but you may not it let it gravitate you! for me! i choose to struggle with gravity for as long as i can for as my red hoodie says “PERFECTION IS BORING”.

Of time and me

Time for me and time in reality are two different things and thus it seems that i live not in reality of where time is counted by the hours but in – i don’t want to say reality- a dimension where time and the hours are irrelevant and time is counted by the countless thoughts i get in a certain….. – what would i call it if i was not to feel the time by the hours? –  in a certain loop of thoughts of my waking head. i guess that line would be too long to be used on daily bases but that’s my dimensional reality and my loop of thoughts, that’s what time is to me.

our awareness of time is made so we can organize our days based on the passing hours in the most way we see efficient and productive. but what if your efficiency and your productivity is governed by the passing thoughts of your mind, those that come and go whenever and where ever they need and thus your only as efficient as your mind allows you and as your mind counts time for you.
in the middle of my working hours where the lines of people await, my awareness of time is different than theirs. the thoughts i have could mean a minute or could mean an hour. isn’t that cruel to have to deal with your own dimension while your on another, where everything moves and feels differently than it seems. where people walk numbed by the hours by how many tasks they’ve got left, by the ticking watches in their hands. i do wear watches i love watches, ironically a watch is the only object that can defy time but we like to look at it’s arms for longer than we are meant to look.
thoughts of the past are the longest hours in my dimension, thoughts of the future are the most fleeting and thoughts of now? there aren’t any because now i spend zoned out on both yesterday and tomorrow. so what’s really yesterday and what’s really tomorrow? Nothing i haven’t any! yesterday, now and tomorrow is all in my head a one continuous hour and a one continuous time. it’s who i am continuously. i couldn’t wish for anything more than to focus! focus on the now, live within the moment as people advice me. but aren’t moments a unit of time and what they don’t know that in my mind the units of time are invalid. and thus such an advice is recognized but is incomprehensible.
so what is time really? if it was meant to border up how much i spend awake and how much i spend sleeping. i’d say that’s comprehensible but other than that it functions nothing to the efficiency of each.

The result of the untold

” You can’t continue to be like this, you can’t keep hiding away from people.” said my father. i replied with a simple why?, ” you’ll grow up one day you’ll be forced to live in an environment with people. and your going to need these people, we are not created to be on our own. people need each other. responsibilities gets distributed and that’s how the world works” he replied triumphantly. i can still remember how mad i was when i heard this talk. i made it my mission that day that i would prove i won’t need anyone and i can make it perfectly on my own.

now that i have grown up a little, i did prove that i don’t need anyone to be who i am. to live. but what i didn’t count for is. did i want to be who i am? because when you live independently. you realize that people’s existence don’t matter. and get to be alone with your true self. your mind takes on a loud personality independent of your being. do i want to be with who i am ? apparently i don’t.

i realized this now. because in the last couple of years, i have been wrecking my mind trying to figure out. what went wrong? why isn’t there anyone around me? why does no body offer help? so immersed in trying to prove my believes i have not noticed that i have been living within that belief. no one is offering help because that is how the world works. you don’t ask for it, you reject the help! and people even very close ones; they stop! they stop offering.

i don’t know if my dad was only talking about materialistic things or not. but i realized that the core of what he was saying to me was: hearing a mind other than mine for a change. i have grown sick with hearing my mind all the time. seeking a louder mind than mine. other people speak and their words float in mid air. untouchable and unreachable. i would try to connect the dots to the closest thing my mind could relate to. but it was like fixing a smudged painting with a dirty brush. voids  are created and distance grows.

i look down at my own feet as i walk, wondering what made me walk alone that day. not trying to connect, not trying to seek out any louder minds. i found comfort in my patterned movement. the same swifts, same regrets in the midst of doubt and certainty all side to side. seeking out louder minds seems to be a set failure an attempt to go further back towards the starting line.

my dad was right about most of what he said. but was wrong about one thing; my fault was not in hiding away from people. my fault was exposing my independence to people. people indulge in the fact that their needed by others. it justifies their existence. they need justification to live properly. to draw out a map with directions. i haven’t given them any. yet i have given them directions without a map. and so they drew me a question mark and left.

i can’t wake up from my coma and ask where did all people go.  they went where their needed. the world fits more clearly now into the image of a Lego game where every piece is installed in it’s set place. where it’s needed!

and it’s okay. some software are made with a glitch, and i either need someone to fix me or continue to be a question mark.



​I reminisced and reminisced  the day i get to be me again. I contemplated and contemplated my old glory. It came in a still night, on a very calm night. The winds shifting from autumn to winter. I saw a shadow, a one of myself; black as night, sure as dawn. It looked back at me or i looked back at me. There is no you it said. There is no me to get back to.

my scribbled world

a shape which lost it’s shapeness , a dream with no vividness , a sky that is skyless, a right that is not so right. it’s unusual but is it wrong ?

i like things and objects when it’s quite unshaped or out of shape. when the uneven sharp edges dents the surface of my hands when i don’t dream but recreate a reality out of a vision, when i look into the sky and it has no clouds but it’s limitless, raw and uncovered. i like the wrong that’s of value, despise the right that’s said to be so.

i scribble the straight lines into a chaos of endless motion and an origin with no start, a scribble that is different among the many of people.

and i don’t quite like to call people ”people” but there is just no other word that is palpable, they are herds of seamless thinking. ripples of ignorance in continuum, who will break the vibration?, the transmittance?. and who threw the rock?

i have been busy with the world, observing those vibrations. sitting in any empty space within sight with my cup of coffee whether at home or outside, my feet drifts me towards emptiness only just so i can travel to another world, to break the continuum, to detach from the world’s essence, to travel to another world, a world with no sky nor ground, to be suspended in mid air feeling nothing. a complete numbness is what i desire. every step i take in this world is heavy. my feet are light and i walk abnormally fast that most of my friends complain of not being able to catch up to me thus my feet are not heavy  what’s heavy is my mind so i thought. my mind felt heavy i begged through my eyes for someone to understand the torment in such peculiarity. there were cords connected to every part of my body bringing the world to me. to feel the whole world inside of me, every little aspect of every little thing is continuously being processed. the wind it’s speed and texture, how the leaves changes as the winds does, the falling dead leaves and flowers, the crawling endless variety of bugs and insects. how can a such world exists separate from us, yet so connected to the point our daily activity and life choices effects them and to the worse odds end them. this stream of thoughts goes on until a weird form of life in flesh and bones shows up as the faces of creatures called humans and blocks that image. then instantly their eyes start speaking before their mouths, the wrinkles their lips make through their faces as they move, how their hands lifts up jumping right and left in completion to what the mouth speaks and what the eyes hide. but at that very moment the two images fuses into one. the two worlds shapes a single gigantic jigsaw. all the data is fed into me all at once. so a single encounter of a friend or stranger can keep my cords hooked in alert, in such connection that the winds and the trees doesn’t fall far from the humans in front of me.

these two worlds made into one inside of me keeps my head heavy, i keep walking fast head down trying shutting everything out yet failing. i have been angry at the world needing to split the connection. so focused on filling every minute of my day, when i realized that everything is connected to my soul rather than my brain and there is no way to split and travel to any other imaginative world no matter how bad i long for it. because this connection will always be within my soul. what i carried as a burden god meant for it to be a gift. an illustration of gods presence within each one of us. the strength to lift my heavy soul and raise my head up, to take in all the worlds there in i’m afraid is not given by god, because if it was it will never be realized. it can only be gained through pain and suffering so much that you have no choice but to sit and understand it, embrace it and instead of rising up to it, let pain be your best friend. let pain lift your character to the level of your gift. because failure is disguised as a gift with no character.


It’s simple yet it’s not

Sometimes we wish for a certain thing so much that we swim against the tide.

We strive for the sun so much we lose sense of it’s burning light.

We search for a warmer spot so inclined we tackle the winds.

We are left broken in a battle not our own.

We curse the tides, the sun and the wind for what they have done but a mere detachment of what’s to come.

I see them falling and I’m falling too.

I see them crying and I’m crying too.

I see them but not them me.

They wait for a salvation, for a king and crown. They wait to be made Queens. 

I wait not for a salvation.

I wipe my own tears. Batch my own pieces.

For i am not a princess nor a queen.

 a warrior. Yes! A one like no other.