No way can I give you both. Unless you can learn to appreciate the eccentricity of my methods. I don't mean to sound as a cunt, but there's no other way I can put it.
Comfort: a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint
Yeah, I can offer that, for a while. Without any pay back, anyway. Yeah, nothing in life is free, neither is comfort. So what is it you want? A pat on the back whenever you do something mediocre? Or a high five whenever it's even better? Or somewhere to vent all your problems out and expect me to agree with every word and conform to your hatred towards anyone else*? *Being someone I have no affiliation with whatsoever. Or say I even do (which makes it worse). Why should I hate them on your account? But that's just one strand of comfort that I accidentally digressed on. Alright, say your venting is done. Do you want some advice? Or will it just be wasted words on your stubborn self? I'm not claiming to be any better in this, but then again, I restrain myself from even GOING to others for advice. Enough about me. So yeah, in a nutshell, I'm not going to bullshit to you and say whatever it is you want to hear.
"My boyfriend dumped me.
"He's not worth it."
I guess I could start off like that, since that's, apparently, the best way to make some people happy. But then I'll explain more thoroughly as to either
1. Why he's not worth it.
2. Why the situation isn't worth it.
3. Or why it was your fault to even begin with.
To avoid being hurt by whatever my "advice" or method of "comfort" is, ask yourself: What is more helpful? I guess we can heal the CURRENT emotions on the surface, sweep it under a rug and just deny they even existed. Yeah, I can get you some ice cream, but what will that do in the long-run? The residue from the problem will still fluster you later on, when the same emotions pop up in a different situation. (Same shit, different toilet). Or, how about I criticize your motives and the "problem's" motives a bit in hopes that you fix it. And, instead of you looking at it as criticism, you look at it as help, disregarding my cruel tone or diction. Easier said than done, yeah, but at least it's a step. No intention in sounding cynical, but or critical, just truthful, on this topic, and any other topic that I may confront you with. Let's take into mind, that you isn't any single person, but any group of people, or a single person. So yeah, keep your head up.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Saturday, June 20, 2009
In Moderated Truths.
I am in hopes that you'd listen. Words don't travel far anymore, but thoughts are so easily spread. The line between fate and destiny was crossed far too many times. The lies I write are filled with the truths you believe. If no two things are the same then why must this be. Every word spit burns concrete. Every thought told lives inside. I tried to hide the truth, for it won't save you. But now karma only searches for me. I hide in the middle ground, somewhere between existence and fiction. Maybe in there I'll find a hope for a new life, for a better one. In there only will I finally pull the thorn out. Drop the dead creature bellowing on my back. While also hold onto the child, the child that blossomed from the ashes of the previous death. Maybe a wish would pull me through, maybe a wish would take you too. I want to hold on, but my fingers have bled. I want to let go onto the softest ledge. It's not that I'm scared, yet I'm quite wary. It's just another life I may lose on the path there. See every word we exchanged may be real, but it's not the same expression that I feel. If your eyes and mine will meet again, I want to let you know, oh dear Friend. Every time that we beckon the silence, it's like a flat line, indeed timeless. I don't mean to hurt or shun, but this is the last letter I'll spill before I run. Inside every letter above is a riddle, but the truths shines through when you really seek it. Nothing I stated is just another word, and honestly, you weren't ever just another girl. With an hope in my mind that there are open ears, with a guarantee that I can't fight my fears. With a lie that I must state again, maybe a truth will instead fight through, my Friend.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Verbal Irony
An essay for english.
The clock ticking was the first thing that brought my attention back to reality, finding my way out of the trance the book had cast on me. I was reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. I turned to see some guy approach me and sit down next to me. I smiled at him, showing acceptance. He was quick to start talking and I didn’t mind, company is intended to be a good thing. “Hello, my name’s E.“ I responded to his sudden exposure and replied with my name. He seemed to be my age, or maybe a bit older, and with short hair. His body was a bit bulkier than mine, but lacked muscle. He smiled and asked me what book I was reading. I showed him the cover and he was set back a little, like I just pulled a gun on him. “Doesn’t that book kind of offend you?” I looked at him with a bewildered expression. “You know. It’s kind of offensive to us Christians.”
“Oh, I guess, but I’m not a Christian,” I replied, and continued on with my “offensive” book.
“Well are you a Catholic?” Obviously he was taught that Christians and Catholics follow different religions.
“No, I’m not that either.”
“Muslim? Jew? Buddhist?” I felt my face blush a little, in annoyance. Why did it matter to him so much?
“I’m actually an Atheist.”
“You’re atheist?!” His eyes widened like his precious church had just burned down. I simply nodded at him and continued with my book. A couple beautiful seconds of peace passed. He was probably thinking of some rebuttal during this time. Then again, he brought up the subject, “Wait so, you don’t believe in God?” I shook my head and grinned at him. I can’t recall if it was a grin or a “piss off, I’m trying to read” kind of face. Maybe it was the second one, since he took it as a challenge. “That’s hilarious!” he obnoxiously exclaimed, I was drowned, barely an exaggeration, in spit. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him another “grin.” “I guess that explains your tight pants huh?” I rolled my eyes, I was used to such comments, but then he sniggered a little and added more to it, “By the way, are you gay? Cause, I’m gonna sit over there if you are.” He pointed to a seat on the opposite side of the library.
I turned my head at him and said, “No, sir, I am not gay. But you moving would be fine with me.”
His joyful face turned to a more serious one. His ignorance was visible in his eyes, nicely complementing the arrogance shown on his face. “Well it doesn’t matter, either way you’re going to burn at the hands of the devil.“ A smirk made its way onto my face. “Oh so you’re smiling, try doing that while you’re on fire!” I brushed off his pathetic verbal assaults. Unfortunately, he kept going. “Just read the Bible! You’ll become a better person! Live a better life!” Every word was guided with as much stupidity as the last.
The difference between suggestion and demand didn’t exist in this guy. Who are you to even try to decide what I can or can not believe in? Or how I should or shouldn’t live. I thought to myself, that smirk still on my face. His rude remarks lasted for a good five minutes. Every small detail was commented about my Atheism and choice of style. “Dude, do you know how much sperm you’ve probably killed! Would you even be able to have sex? Even a lesbian would look twice before picking you!” I turned to him and smiled, straight into his face. I spied an inflammation in his cheeks and eyes and a small booger hanging around on his nostril.
“What are you staring at you faggot?” was his last remark, and then I got up. “You trying to fight me or something?”
“No, I just need to be somewhere.”
“What a wuss. I bet your boyfriends calling you.” I wish Adriana Lima and Angelina Jolie, arm in arm, opened the library doors at that very moment and called me over. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I guess he is,” I responded, packing my bags. He smiled at me, satisfied with his victory. I walked past him but stopped right next to him and tapped his cheek. “You’re a cute kid, but do me a favour: don’t talk to strangers next time.” An indistinct word flew out of his mouth, prompting an older man to scold him. The constant smirk stayed on my face as I walked out of the library and enjoyed the rest of my day.
The clock ticking was the first thing that brought my attention back to reality, finding my way out of the trance the book had cast on me. I was reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. I turned to see some guy approach me and sit down next to me. I smiled at him, showing acceptance. He was quick to start talking and I didn’t mind, company is intended to be a good thing. “Hello, my name’s E.“ I responded to his sudden exposure and replied with my name. He seemed to be my age, or maybe a bit older, and with short hair. His body was a bit bulkier than mine, but lacked muscle. He smiled and asked me what book I was reading. I showed him the cover and he was set back a little, like I just pulled a gun on him. “Doesn’t that book kind of offend you?” I looked at him with a bewildered expression. “You know. It’s kind of offensive to us Christians.”
“Oh, I guess, but I’m not a Christian,” I replied, and continued on with my “offensive” book.
“Well are you a Catholic?” Obviously he was taught that Christians and Catholics follow different religions.
“No, I’m not that either.”
“Muslim? Jew? Buddhist?” I felt my face blush a little, in annoyance. Why did it matter to him so much?
“I’m actually an Atheist.”
“You’re atheist?!” His eyes widened like his precious church had just burned down. I simply nodded at him and continued with my book. A couple beautiful seconds of peace passed. He was probably thinking of some rebuttal during this time. Then again, he brought up the subject, “Wait so, you don’t believe in God?” I shook my head and grinned at him. I can’t recall if it was a grin or a “piss off, I’m trying to read” kind of face. Maybe it was the second one, since he took it as a challenge. “That’s hilarious!” he obnoxiously exclaimed, I was drowned, barely an exaggeration, in spit. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him another “grin.” “I guess that explains your tight pants huh?” I rolled my eyes, I was used to such comments, but then he sniggered a little and added more to it, “By the way, are you gay? Cause, I’m gonna sit over there if you are.” He pointed to a seat on the opposite side of the library.
I turned my head at him and said, “No, sir, I am not gay. But you moving would be fine with me.”
His joyful face turned to a more serious one. His ignorance was visible in his eyes, nicely complementing the arrogance shown on his face. “Well it doesn’t matter, either way you’re going to burn at the hands of the devil.“ A smirk made its way onto my face. “Oh so you’re smiling, try doing that while you’re on fire!” I brushed off his pathetic verbal assaults. Unfortunately, he kept going. “Just read the Bible! You’ll become a better person! Live a better life!” Every word was guided with as much stupidity as the last.
The difference between suggestion and demand didn’t exist in this guy. Who are you to even try to decide what I can or can not believe in? Or how I should or shouldn’t live. I thought to myself, that smirk still on my face. His rude remarks lasted for a good five minutes. Every small detail was commented about my Atheism and choice of style. “Dude, do you know how much sperm you’ve probably killed! Would you even be able to have sex? Even a lesbian would look twice before picking you!” I turned to him and smiled, straight into his face. I spied an inflammation in his cheeks and eyes and a small booger hanging around on his nostril.
“What are you staring at you faggot?” was his last remark, and then I got up. “You trying to fight me or something?”
“No, I just need to be somewhere.”
“What a wuss. I bet your boyfriends calling you.” I wish Adriana Lima and Angelina Jolie, arm in arm, opened the library doors at that very moment and called me over. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I guess he is,” I responded, packing my bags. He smiled at me, satisfied with his victory. I walked past him but stopped right next to him and tapped his cheek. “You’re a cute kid, but do me a favour: don’t talk to strangers next time.” An indistinct word flew out of his mouth, prompting an older man to scold him. The constant smirk stayed on my face as I walked out of the library and enjoyed the rest of my day.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Situational Mentality
I've been actually meaning to blog about this since like November, honestly, but I never got through with it. So here I go again,
Hello, we all do.
In this blog, I will analyze and explain the three ways of anticipating an event or situation.
optimism –noun
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world.
3. the belief that goodness pervades reality.
The first of these is being optimistic about it. A lot of people claim to follow this way of thinking, but are really just hypocrites. I was an optimist for a couple months this year, like an extreme optimist. But then I realized that not everything in the world is perfect, so I moved on to a different way of thinking I'll come upon in a few sentences. Anyways, I think optimism's way overrated nowadays. "Oh, don't be such a pessimist, something good is bound to happen." Well, something good MIGHT happen, but then if it doesn't, you'll be really disappointed, now won't you. Another disadvantage of optimism is the failure to see reality as clearly as it should be seen. I realized this when I had the few months of optimism going on. I didn't see the situation from all points of view, I just thought I KNEW that everything would befit my needs, but when it didn't, the disappointment was unbearable. This mentality relates directly with "seeing the big picture." People just see the situation and immediately assume they know everything about it and how to work around it to make everything perfect. They don't check for details and small loopholes, that's not in their vocabulary
pessimism
–noun
1. the tendency to see, anticipate, or emphasize only bad or undesirable outcomes, results, conditions, problems, etc.: His pessimism about the future of our country depresses me.
2. the doctrine that the existing world is the worst of all possible worlds, or that all things naturally tend to evil.
On the complete opposite side of the mentality spectrum is pessimism. These people see the worst in every situation. "The cup is half empty" and alla that such. These people are considered quitters are cheaters, cause they consider themselves to fail in whatever they do. "Oh I know I won't make the team, so I might as well not even try." "The test? I don't even know the material! Yahnoe I'ma fail it." These people don't even analyze the situation, they just hear of it and BAM, they have their minds set on losing, which is usually why they DO fail/lose. Such as fascism and communism are both different, but still in the same category; Optimism and Pessimism are like this too. Both sides of the spectrum see the BIG PICTURE and don't check for anything else. They find out of the event and go to black or white, I can or I can't. Usually, the pessimists are the ones that don't even try and end up failing either way.
realism
–noun
1. interest in or concern for the actual or real, as distinguished from the abstract, speculative, etc.
2. the tendency to view or represent things as they really are.
Now, the better of all three, is Realism. Realism is in the center of the whole mentality spectrum. Realists tend to analyze, sometimes even OVERANALYZE (to the point where it goes from Realism to Pessimism) the situation. They look at it from different viewpoints and tell themselves that they'll try their best to tackle it, not expecting to fully win or to just lose. I prefer realism myself because well, it's the most logical one, I think. I don't like disappointment and I think that seeing a situation as likely to happen/likely to not happen is better than just setting your mind on one or the other.
Throughout my life, I've always been like a semi-pessimist. The whole "emo" thing then went away and I was more optimistic about things, but then I got to the point where I was TOO optimistic. As explained before, I don't think this works out either. If a whole society was either optimistic or pessimistic about everything, I doubt anything would get done. Optimism would set their hopes too high, and everyone would try to overachieve at whatever they do. Though it's arguable that optimism means determination, that's not always the case. When one is optimistic, they assume that everything's going to be right no matter what, so that's when laziness and "hoping" kicks in. But as I've been told by someone I love, "Hope is for the unprepared," and optimists are truly unprepared. On the other hand, a pessimistic society would just give up right away and not even attempt at anything.
So I think that it would be better off, if we all just stopped being so happy or emotional and being more real to ourselves and everyone else. Of course, who am I to tell anyone and everyone what to do, but I guarantee you, if everyone becomes less black and white (including myself, I am in no means saying I am perfect or better than anyone else hahah, I just tend to think, rethink, and over think things), they would be able to see things more clearly. Their blurry vision would be gone and they'd see in a different light. If everyone just (claims to) thinks happily about everything or sadly about everything, well then, what's the point of even anticipating anything, just go sit in a windowless room and count dust. (No don't do this, it would get very lonely and boring for you). So go out there and be more real! Keep in mind, we're all still keeping our heads up and keeping our lives stress free. :]
*All definitions from dictionary.com
Hello, we all do.
In this blog, I will analyze and explain the three ways of anticipating an event or situation.
optimism –noun
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world.
3. the belief that goodness pervades reality.
The first of these is being optimistic about it. A lot of people claim to follow this way of thinking, but are really just hypocrites. I was an optimist for a couple months this year, like an extreme optimist. But then I realized that not everything in the world is perfect, so I moved on to a different way of thinking I'll come upon in a few sentences. Anyways, I think optimism's way overrated nowadays. "Oh, don't be such a pessimist, something good is bound to happen." Well, something good MIGHT happen, but then if it doesn't, you'll be really disappointed, now won't you. Another disadvantage of optimism is the failure to see reality as clearly as it should be seen. I realized this when I had the few months of optimism going on. I didn't see the situation from all points of view, I just thought I KNEW that everything would befit my needs, but when it didn't, the disappointment was unbearable. This mentality relates directly with "seeing the big picture." People just see the situation and immediately assume they know everything about it and how to work around it to make everything perfect. They don't check for details and small loopholes, that's not in their vocabulary
pessimism
–noun
1. the tendency to see, anticipate, or emphasize only bad or undesirable outcomes, results, conditions, problems, etc.: His pessimism about the future of our country depresses me.
2. the doctrine that the existing world is the worst of all possible worlds, or that all things naturally tend to evil.
On the complete opposite side of the mentality spectrum is pessimism. These people see the worst in every situation. "The cup is half empty" and alla that such. These people are considered quitters are cheaters, cause they consider themselves to fail in whatever they do. "Oh I know I won't make the team, so I might as well not even try." "The test? I don't even know the material! Yahnoe I'ma fail it." These people don't even analyze the situation, they just hear of it and BAM, they have their minds set on losing, which is usually why they DO fail/lose. Such as fascism and communism are both different, but still in the same category; Optimism and Pessimism are like this too. Both sides of the spectrum see the BIG PICTURE and don't check for anything else. They find out of the event and go to black or white, I can or I can't. Usually, the pessimists are the ones that don't even try and end up failing either way.
realism
–noun
1. interest in or concern for the actual or real, as distinguished from the abstract, speculative, etc.
2. the tendency to view or represent things as they really are.
Now, the better of all three, is Realism. Realism is in the center of the whole mentality spectrum. Realists tend to analyze, sometimes even OVERANALYZE (to the point where it goes from Realism to Pessimism) the situation. They look at it from different viewpoints and tell themselves that they'll try their best to tackle it, not expecting to fully win or to just lose. I prefer realism myself because well, it's the most logical one, I think. I don't like disappointment and I think that seeing a situation as likely to happen/likely to not happen is better than just setting your mind on one or the other.
Throughout my life, I've always been like a semi-pessimist. The whole "emo" thing then went away and I was more optimistic about things, but then I got to the point where I was TOO optimistic. As explained before, I don't think this works out either. If a whole society was either optimistic or pessimistic about everything, I doubt anything would get done. Optimism would set their hopes too high, and everyone would try to overachieve at whatever they do. Though it's arguable that optimism means determination, that's not always the case. When one is optimistic, they assume that everything's going to be right no matter what, so that's when laziness and "hoping" kicks in. But as I've been told by someone I love, "Hope is for the unprepared," and optimists are truly unprepared. On the other hand, a pessimistic society would just give up right away and not even attempt at anything.
So I think that it would be better off, if we all just stopped being so happy or emotional and being more real to ourselves and everyone else. Of course, who am I to tell anyone and everyone what to do, but I guarantee you, if everyone becomes less black and white (including myself, I am in no means saying I am perfect or better than anyone else hahah, I just tend to think, rethink, and over think things), they would be able to see things more clearly. Their blurry vision would be gone and they'd see in a different light. If everyone just (claims to) thinks happily about everything or sadly about everything, well then, what's the point of even anticipating anything, just go sit in a windowless room and count dust. (No don't do this, it would get very lonely and boring for you). So go out there and be more real! Keep in mind, we're all still keeping our heads up and keeping our lives stress free. :]
*All definitions from dictionary.com
Friday, March 6, 2009
You’re Not Alone
Images of the pages I just finished reading still twirled around in my head. I put the book down and try to catch my breath, I realize how hard I had been breathing. I had just finished reading “The Book of Lost Things” by John Connolly. I’m amazed at how much the story related to my unstable emotions. I look outside and notice a worrisome sun try to escape the aggressive clouds, slowly rolling in. The house is quiet, aside from the small squeak of the carpeted floors every now and then. The sun hits the blinds and creates a row of light streaks on my far wall. The warm light goes away as the sun is hidden behind the clouds. The dark room tempts me to lay down, and a long day allows my eyes to slowly shut.
I start to lose consciousness where I’m not fully asleep, but no longer aware of my surroundings. Uneasy thoughts and an empty house lead to my mind drifting to a past I’d rather not relive. I feel my numb body form itself into a more comfortable position as I uncurl. I throw my arms far apart on either side and tilt my head to the side, just a little. My legs touch a little, but still keep their distance. The semi-consciousness still floats around in my head. I see myself laying down, on a large folded up pillow in my cousin‘s bedroom. The room is dark, but still lit from the dimming light on the horizon. I hear a few people talking downstairs, having their dinner. Saosin’s album is also heard, set on repeat. I feel tears in my eyes as I hold a cold lighter. I flip open the top and an LED light, displaying the Eiffel Tower, flashes rapidly. I smile a little and wipe a tear rolling down my cheek. Another one rolls and falls onto a small wound on my arm, recently opened. It burns for a bit, but the feeling numbs down in a moment.
I shut my eyes for a moment as the piano interlude plays. A whimper is heard in the lit darkness and I feel an involuntary twitch, but then I realize the whimper was just me. My stomach also growled, but I was used to this sound. I hadn’t eaten normally in weeks. A breakfast of jam and bread and a dinner of eggs was my main diet. I couldn’t get the food past my tongue without feeling a need to throw up most of the time, so I just refrained from eating anything. The growling of my empty stomach stopped and I opened my eyes and looked around. I felt my legs sweating from the constant anxiety, but I made no effort to change. I fell asleep that night, lying against the same large pillow. I heard my cousins talking about me before getting into their own beds.
“What’s wrong with him?… Is he okay?… Maybe we should call over his mom?” All these sentences repeated for a few minutes, then they just stopped. My grandma, my loving grandma, walked into the room in the middle of the night to check up on me. I loved her so much and respected her limitlessly. She knew why I spent all my days in these depressing ways. She knew what was wrong with me. I heard her slow and unsteady footsteps walk up to me. She gently covered me with a thin blanket and picked up the fallen lighter, placing it on the windowsill above me. She wiped a tear from my face and kissed my cheek. I squinted at her and she smiled at me and said goodnight. The rest of the night, I spent rolling around and listening to my cousins’ snores or nocturnal movements.
As I saw the sun rising, I heard my grandma already up and making breakfast. The clock said seven o’clock, so I decided to remain in bed. The sun was out and the birds sang their summer songs as they soared the endless skies. The days usually went by pretty well, I was just calm and mellow. Sometimes, I would wander outside the acre-long front yard into the driveway. I would just sit on a broken down little bench and watch cars go by as my iPod blared in my ears. My grandma, especially, would attempt to have me eat something, but I always refused. Her attempts weren’t as forceful as they had been though. She knew what was bothering me and she knew to give me space.
That night wasn’t any better than the one before. My cousins were atop their bed, playing cards. They asked me to join, but I refused, muttering, “I can’t play.” In a matter of half an hour, they were all asleep, or so I thought. I took the lighter out from under my pillow and just stared at it. Tears again came to my eyes, but faster than the night before. This time, I couldn’t hold it in. At first, they fell down my cheek and I’d just sniffle a bit. But then, I let out another whimper, quiet enough to be discreet, but still loud enough to catch attention. The whimpers were more like hiccups now, accompanying the falling tears. I sniffled again and I heard a movement on the bed. I tried to quiet myself, but it was almost impossible. The worst thing about holding in tears is the dizziness that follows. My anxiety came into place and my heart was beating, hard. My veins pulsed and my body started to sweat. The wounds felt like they were going to burst and allow the night devour me. I let out a cough as if sulfur filled my lungs. My cousin quickly crawled to the edge of her bed and looked at me. I could see her clearly, despite my blurry vision. We just stared at each other for a moment that seemed like an eternity. She reached for my eye and gently touched right below it, wiping off a tear. She kissed her middle and index finger and touched it to my face and said, “Please sleep Anar.” I made no sound, but closed my eyes and tilted my head. My exhausted body let loose and my arms flung to either side.
I quickly sat up. I was in my dark room, sweating a storm. I checked the clock: midnight. I stepped outside my room and heard a light snoring coming from my parents bedroom, they were home. I went to the bathroom then back to my bed. The whole bed was warm, but once I got under the blanket, that cold feeling of the comforter and bed sheets relaxed me. I made myself comfortable and switched on my iPod. I set the sleep timer to thirty minutes and hid the iPod under my pillow and fixed my position once more. I thought about the previous dream, but the motivating music lead my thoughts away from depression. I fell back asleep and I dreamt of the same theme, except, better. I was at a park with him, my uncle, playing pool, just like we had four years ago. I made a ball into the pocket and my uncle gave me a high five. “I’ll dance at your wedding Anar,” which is what he’d always say when he was proud of me. He rubbed my head and I jumped up and attempted to rub his. He laughed at me and told me to shoot again.
Rest. In. Peace.
Uncle Akif
We Miss You
I start to lose consciousness where I’m not fully asleep, but no longer aware of my surroundings. Uneasy thoughts and an empty house lead to my mind drifting to a past I’d rather not relive. I feel my numb body form itself into a more comfortable position as I uncurl. I throw my arms far apart on either side and tilt my head to the side, just a little. My legs touch a little, but still keep their distance. The semi-consciousness still floats around in my head. I see myself laying down, on a large folded up pillow in my cousin‘s bedroom. The room is dark, but still lit from the dimming light on the horizon. I hear a few people talking downstairs, having their dinner. Saosin’s album is also heard, set on repeat. I feel tears in my eyes as I hold a cold lighter. I flip open the top and an LED light, displaying the Eiffel Tower, flashes rapidly. I smile a little and wipe a tear rolling down my cheek. Another one rolls and falls onto a small wound on my arm, recently opened. It burns for a bit, but the feeling numbs down in a moment.
I shut my eyes for a moment as the piano interlude plays. A whimper is heard in the lit darkness and I feel an involuntary twitch, but then I realize the whimper was just me. My stomach also growled, but I was used to this sound. I hadn’t eaten normally in weeks. A breakfast of jam and bread and a dinner of eggs was my main diet. I couldn’t get the food past my tongue without feeling a need to throw up most of the time, so I just refrained from eating anything. The growling of my empty stomach stopped and I opened my eyes and looked around. I felt my legs sweating from the constant anxiety, but I made no effort to change. I fell asleep that night, lying against the same large pillow. I heard my cousins talking about me before getting into their own beds.
“What’s wrong with him?… Is he okay?… Maybe we should call over his mom?” All these sentences repeated for a few minutes, then they just stopped. My grandma, my loving grandma, walked into the room in the middle of the night to check up on me. I loved her so much and respected her limitlessly. She knew why I spent all my days in these depressing ways. She knew what was wrong with me. I heard her slow and unsteady footsteps walk up to me. She gently covered me with a thin blanket and picked up the fallen lighter, placing it on the windowsill above me. She wiped a tear from my face and kissed my cheek. I squinted at her and she smiled at me and said goodnight. The rest of the night, I spent rolling around and listening to my cousins’ snores or nocturnal movements.
As I saw the sun rising, I heard my grandma already up and making breakfast. The clock said seven o’clock, so I decided to remain in bed. The sun was out and the birds sang their summer songs as they soared the endless skies. The days usually went by pretty well, I was just calm and mellow. Sometimes, I would wander outside the acre-long front yard into the driveway. I would just sit on a broken down little bench and watch cars go by as my iPod blared in my ears. My grandma, especially, would attempt to have me eat something, but I always refused. Her attempts weren’t as forceful as they had been though. She knew what was bothering me and she knew to give me space.
That night wasn’t any better than the one before. My cousins were atop their bed, playing cards. They asked me to join, but I refused, muttering, “I can’t play.” In a matter of half an hour, they were all asleep, or so I thought. I took the lighter out from under my pillow and just stared at it. Tears again came to my eyes, but faster than the night before. This time, I couldn’t hold it in. At first, they fell down my cheek and I’d just sniffle a bit. But then, I let out another whimper, quiet enough to be discreet, but still loud enough to catch attention. The whimpers were more like hiccups now, accompanying the falling tears. I sniffled again and I heard a movement on the bed. I tried to quiet myself, but it was almost impossible. The worst thing about holding in tears is the dizziness that follows. My anxiety came into place and my heart was beating, hard. My veins pulsed and my body started to sweat. The wounds felt like they were going to burst and allow the night devour me. I let out a cough as if sulfur filled my lungs. My cousin quickly crawled to the edge of her bed and looked at me. I could see her clearly, despite my blurry vision. We just stared at each other for a moment that seemed like an eternity. She reached for my eye and gently touched right below it, wiping off a tear. She kissed her middle and index finger and touched it to my face and said, “Please sleep Anar.” I made no sound, but closed my eyes and tilted my head. My exhausted body let loose and my arms flung to either side.
I quickly sat up. I was in my dark room, sweating a storm. I checked the clock: midnight. I stepped outside my room and heard a light snoring coming from my parents bedroom, they were home. I went to the bathroom then back to my bed. The whole bed was warm, but once I got under the blanket, that cold feeling of the comforter and bed sheets relaxed me. I made myself comfortable and switched on my iPod. I set the sleep timer to thirty minutes and hid the iPod under my pillow and fixed my position once more. I thought about the previous dream, but the motivating music lead my thoughts away from depression. I fell back asleep and I dreamt of the same theme, except, better. I was at a park with him, my uncle, playing pool, just like we had four years ago. I made a ball into the pocket and my uncle gave me a high five. “I’ll dance at your wedding Anar,” which is what he’d always say when he was proud of me. He rubbed my head and I jumped up and attempted to rub his. He laughed at me and told me to shoot again.
Rest. In. Peace.
Uncle Akif
We Miss You
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