​End of the day, coming down with the cold i look at the pile of books filling my room floor feeling worn out i sit by those books hands around my crossed legs head tilted a little to the right anchored by the wall behind me a pose of surrender and despair. I talk to my books and say I rest my case and plead to you; tell me why have you steered me your way?  Why have you made me into this fragile hearted fickle minded person i am. 

So detached hardly even liking a person these days. A repulsive power against people string around me like a set of hola hoops it spins more powerfully and more erratically as anyone comes closer; an action like look down, slip away and sift out unseen usually comes to mind when people do come closer and i usually try discard them but end up forcing myself into hellos and kisses i find no meaning to, social encounters that i can’t wait to end even if i have nothing else to do. what is the solid ground that will give me comfort or at least a sense of belonging “Iuntima”? I know the feelings of strangeness is getting stronger than ever because now it’s something i can’t control and often not aware of. I realize that when people’s voice gets shattered before it reaches me and fade bit by bit, the background starts to blur, the voice of the wind calms me and as clickering of heels of girls annoy me. my dad feared this effect of overwhelming independence and of fake solidarity. A state of in between. I don’t know why I’m blaming my books – It’s only natural for a human to blame. Blaming my books is nevertheless invalid and unjustified, i have been lost in this world, i am lost in this world and as i continue to be me i will still be lost in this world for many years to come – my books are the only thing that kept me attached to solid ground and that gave me a link to this physical world. My books is where i have always found logic and a sense of (Iuntima – belonging). 

It’s often that our paths are predetermined with some slips and falls along the way our natural self not our personality for that is constantly changing as we grow but our innermost natural self is what follows those paths. 
Those paths are not structured yet they still lead to one end that being the discovery of who we are. If you find your way too quickly or too often then that is probably not your way in fact the losers are the ones who find their way and they never tell because they never really come to realize it.


Author: malak94abouras

i never asked to love the words, they have loved me and i have then fallen

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