My black dog Barney returns...
And for a while, it was comforting to feel like this again. Contentment being such an alien emotion for me. He wreaks havoc over my brain. My hands shake and my faith falters all over again. After having sworn to convert. He has taken over completely. My lines of communion are severed. I cannot see; I cannot hear, I cannot feel. Woe is me.
Keeping Mum
She cast aside the veil today to show me what hurts her mosts, what worries her most, what she fears the most. It's made me shake. I worry her the most. And that worries me the most. The reality is: I am failing miserably. All ways are shut. I'm stuck on a strange bed, making words out of letters and still making no sense.
Reminder
And Allah says, "But you may dislike something which is good for you, and you may like something which is bad for you. Allah knows while you do not know".
Ides of September
It's a crappy month, though don't ask me why. The good thing about fasting in Ramadhan is that it highlights the emptiness of my life and existence. It also highlights that even if I were to get a job, further education or a marriage, it would still all be empty.
My non-relationship with my father would be the same, unimproved. My relationship with my mother, the same or even faltering. My self-esteem - now when was the last time I had it?
Being
I am the same as I was when I was four. The same when I was eight. The same when I was nine. The same when I was eleven. There is also a stranger inside of me, who scares me because I do not know who she is and why she is here and where she comes from. I don't know how far over the edge she is willing to lead me. I do not even know if it is a 'she'. My hands are in perpetual seizure. My thoughts have no anchor; they fly all over the place like the keys in Harry Potter. And that makes my speech slow. And when the thoughts are slow, like the goblins in Harry Potter, my speech is slower. And my being is whithered away.
And I can't see, hear, feel or know.
I fail.
Mes pleindres
Ils ne sont pas contre Vous, mon Dieu, ils sont contre moi. Seulement contre moi. C'est moi qui a fait ça. C'est moi qui insiste de continuer rater. Vous écoutez tout, Vous savez tout, Vous comprenez tout. C'est moi qui est toujours le pire, n'importe quoi je fais. Et Vous, Vous est gentil et généreux. Et moi, je me suis completement perdue. Pour toujours, n'est-ce pas? Toujours les mêmes éspaces dans l'âme, dans le coeur; la révisitation des choses qui j'ai pensé échappées. La manque de l'éspoir qui me guide dans l'enfer. Ma point de vue completement sans évidence. Mon être, cassé et torturé. Moi, je n'fait pas sens, la vie non plus.
Ou est la lumière Vous avez promis?
And for a while, it was comforting to feel like this again. Contentment being such an alien emotion for me. He wreaks havoc over my brain. My hands shake and my faith falters all over again. After having sworn to convert. He has taken over completely. My lines of communion are severed. I cannot see; I cannot hear, I cannot feel. Woe is me.
Keeping Mum
She cast aside the veil today to show me what hurts her mosts, what worries her most, what she fears the most. It's made me shake. I worry her the most. And that worries me the most. The reality is: I am failing miserably. All ways are shut. I'm stuck on a strange bed, making words out of letters and still making no sense.
Reminder
And Allah says, "But you may dislike something which is good for you, and you may like something which is bad for you. Allah knows while you do not know".
Ides of September
It's a crappy month, though don't ask me why. The good thing about fasting in Ramadhan is that it highlights the emptiness of my life and existence. It also highlights that even if I were to get a job, further education or a marriage, it would still all be empty.
My non-relationship with my father would be the same, unimproved. My relationship with my mother, the same or even faltering. My self-esteem - now when was the last time I had it?
Being
I am the same as I was when I was four. The same when I was eight. The same when I was nine. The same when I was eleven. There is also a stranger inside of me, who scares me because I do not know who she is and why she is here and where she comes from. I don't know how far over the edge she is willing to lead me. I do not even know if it is a 'she'. My hands are in perpetual seizure. My thoughts have no anchor; they fly all over the place like the keys in Harry Potter. And that makes my speech slow. And when the thoughts are slow, like the goblins in Harry Potter, my speech is slower. And my being is whithered away.
And I can't see, hear, feel or know.
I fail.
Mes pleindres
Ils ne sont pas contre Vous, mon Dieu, ils sont contre moi. Seulement contre moi. C'est moi qui a fait ça. C'est moi qui insiste de continuer rater. Vous écoutez tout, Vous savez tout, Vous comprenez tout. C'est moi qui est toujours le pire, n'importe quoi je fais. Et Vous, Vous est gentil et généreux. Et moi, je me suis completement perdue. Pour toujours, n'est-ce pas? Toujours les mêmes éspaces dans l'âme, dans le coeur; la révisitation des choses qui j'ai pensé échappées. La manque de l'éspoir qui me guide dans l'enfer. Ma point de vue completement sans évidence. Mon être, cassé et torturé. Moi, je n'fait pas sens, la vie non plus.
Ou est la lumière Vous avez promis?
Comments
you should get really rich and then get an isle named after you, then we could live in scotland forever!!
I can't believe this, you numbed, brainless English moron!
you wanna come with me?
we could seek refuge there, you never know it might work out!