My dear friend
Our eyes perceive a world that isn’t ours. That transparent layer fuse with our pupils, making it impossible to see the greenery of the grass. Instead it dissects everything around us into tiny little things and we suddenly become artists who use squares to turn random details into a painting. We never cease to wonder, my friend, why we reach for the clouds when everyone seeks the rain? Why do we erase lines when everyone is drawing shapes? what about the dreams we build every single day? what about that beautiful unreachable universe that is constantly evolving inside us? Will it ever find its way out?
Yes my friend, I think it certainly will. I am tired of tearing the patches by my own hands. The taste of bitterness is poisonous, it metastasize faster than cancer, killing one notion after another. It’s a sickly disease that stand between us and what we might become. We say we’re powerless, stuck in an inverse reality, caged within solid walls. Yet they did it before us my friend. Nizar Qabani’s words penetrated those bricks. They were more powerful than the wind that roared beyond them. .Fairouz’s voice, Abdul Nasir’s resilience, Al-Sadat’s daring act.. if they could escape them, why can’t we my friend, why cant we? Now, the doubt starts to creep into our minds every second, like a ping pong ball, it throws reason after reason, back and forth, of the why instead of the why not. It’s us who decide my dear friend whether to throw back and be hit again, or throw it far away, never to return.
We might as well laugh ,my friend, that kind of laughter that makes our hearts cry. We might as well fall to our knees and weep every time we try to get out, only to find ourselves hitting the hard concrete. No one said they’re transparent. If anything, they’re solider than iron. That’s what you get when you combine those identical minds that knows no distinctness, no individuality, no perception. Like clay, they become one strong “something”.
My friend, or I shall say my dear sister, life taught me that Hope hurts more than a dagger entrenched into flesh, yet it also taught me that the lack of it, blinds your whole world. Slowly everything inside you shuts down and even the memories you once held so dear, starts to seep through your veins. We both know that we are more than a dot, more than a blob, more than a thing, and definitely more stronger together than the wall they created. I can’t do it. But I know that “We” can.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
She walked amidst the crowd rushing through the gates. Today is a new day, a different day. She watched the black mass in front of her dissipate as she made her way to class. Silence usually dominates the corridor in the early hours of morning, broken occasionally by the trill of heels or excited chatter and sometimes by her own loud thoughts. Why does everyone move in a rhythm that is unfamiliar to me, why can’t I grasp their words? and why God why do I always feel out of place?
She opened the door to the classroom and navigated for a second, aware of the frozen stares, she made her way and sat at the back. She didn’t like to sit at the back but she learned to avoid certain situations by taking the easy way out. It’s always better to save my face and sit alone rather than hear the usual “My friend is sitting here” phrase. Though it can be uncomfortable at times, it was much more liberating to her to not know anyone in the class. They can be judgmental; I don’t know them to care. They can disagree with me; I don’t know them to care. They can criticize my beliefs; I don’t know them to care. I can be me; I don’t know them to care.
She listened to the professor speak and every time her mind sought to wander off, his voice grabbed her back in. Passion is what it was. He spoke it. He breathed it. He was it.
The power of his words reached deep into her core and slightly changed something inside her. She realized that maybe for once she shouldn’t cry on spilled milk.
She left the classroom with a positive aura. Why cant I? Why not? She passed through the corridor, and with each step she took, and in each face she met, she found her answers. Because! You’re not him! Because! You’re here and he’s there! Because! In his reality, he never knew a “never”. By the time she reached the elevator, her aura was a dark unyielding cloud.
She sat down and succumbed to her ethereal reality, where the deafening chatters were muted and the recognizable faces were altered. To the reality of her novels where she met characters who, even though intangible, were more profound than the ones around her.
She knew that the minute she would step in, someone would pull her out and drag her into a long insubstantial conversation. Mostly, one-sided.
It was a society within a society. A system within a system. It felt like she was trying to fit herself into a small box that was already fitted into a smaller one; suffocating, overpowering, impossible. Every time her hand would touch a corner, she would try to tear it out and yet end up tearing herself.
But it was an alternate universe after all. She could be independent. Choose. Speak up. Free her winged thoughts. She could even dream within those walls. She could inspire and be inspired. She could be. She could be.
Posted by Diddlina at 1:49 PM 1 comments