“They say the sea is actually black and that it merely reflects the blue sky above. So it was with me.
I allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes.
I provided a service. I listened and listened and listened. You stored yourself in me.”

"Valya was lighter than a shadow. The lightest of shadows; the shadow of falling snow, might have envied her."

"Who taught you all that, doctor?"
"Suffering."

"She burns like the sun and I can't look away."

Everyone is so tanned around here. And they all wear the same welcoming expression when you pass by; it's hard to tell where they came from.
Soshitte, mina wa onnaji da; istumu, eien ni,

Nanika o sagashiteiru daro.

It's okay.
I, too, run away from people the minute I feel a change in their rhythm.

Ishi

This is my dying will :
I trust that out of the few people that frequent this place; at least one would take it upon them to redeem me, for old time's sake.

Burn all my portraits. Most of them are in my studio, and the rest you will find in my parent's store room, in boxes tucked away. I wouldn't call them portraits; the ones I made in my childhood, but just to be on the safe side. They aren't many; for I stopped. Or tried to.
You'd say that I should just get up and do it now but I'll tell you that i'm too weak and fragile to abandon my only way of comfort.
I was told that my debts will be pardoned, so what's left of my money, kindly dole in my name and my parent's.
This is addressed to my siblings : take care of my mother. She cries a lot, a gentle soul made out of love; part of hers will go away with me, I'm sure. Keep talking to my dad, distract him constantly, try to make him laugh, he would figure your intentions and laugh anyway when he's crying inside. I took it upon myself to do that when his mother passed away.
I have no attachment to my personal belongings; you could give my clothes to the needy. Give my paintings to Amina. My Academic work to Hugh. Everything wooden to Wisal. My queer collectibles to Roxana.
It would be nice to give away my annotated books to my friends but I'd personally hate to have a reminder of a ghost stuck in my life like a piece of meat between one's teeth. My paintings and hand made stuff don't resemble me, or don't expose me as my books do.
Let me go, don't get hung up on my departure, but don't wipe out what's left of my existence.
I opted out of my social media accounts for various reasons so there is no worry of anything poisonous I said or posted being recycled. This blog I can't erase though. It's my proof of life.
I give you full freedom to publish any content you find worthy at your discretion and strictly under my name. See if my family would need the royalties and kindly give part of it to an organization that would put into good use. That is, if it ever sells.
And pray for me, I must selfishly ask. In the darkest hours, remember that I'll need it. Don't exert yourself; just a few whispers asking for mercy on my behalf is all I need. God will send you someone to do the same when you are gone.
And although I tried to live my life without regrets, with the rings of death constantly dangling from my earlobes, I have no means of knowing whether I unintentionally hurt a person.
I'm sorry, tell them, if you ever stumble upon the knowledge of my wronging a bitter soul that could never forgive me when I'm bedded beneath the soil.
Whatever it is that I did; I'm sorry.
That I hurt you. That I don't remember. That I haven't noticed.
If you read this while I'm still alive and feel that I owe you an apology, please let me know.
I'm forever haunted by the sad ghosts of those who have left, the wheezes of the lumps of unspoken words in one's chest, withheld feelings bulging and degenerating, dripping along with one's blood and tears, invisible footprints, traces of their presence on the floor, on walls, on cushions, on door handles, on steering wheels, on dented pages, on the remote control, in one's heart, a reminder of the brevity of life, buckets of regret splashed over everywhere in a vain attempt to ease the stings of loss, that I never wish for anyone to get subjected to this kind of pain : the prospect of never being forgiven by a person.

"Who will mourn me away in their poetry?"

Space Dementia

My greatest terror is that I won't be able to escape you,
After all these years, this long and bloodless war
We started when you stood in my way.
I fear the most, that it is you
After all.
And I
Knew that I got sucked in and trapped within your field.
When you didn't break a sweat to make me yield.
Alluring, your flames, and they tingled a bit
Before they turned a shade of gray.
You put a spell on me; when I tried to stay sober.
And still I knew in my heart that my only way out was a fusion,
A stellar collision.
Or a constant state of anarchic repulsion.
Electric touches.
Mind games and running in mazes.
Cat and mouse chases in small hutches.
Curios gazes. 
Entrapment by ruse.

Tenderness.

Awkwardness.
Misunderstanding.
A heart bruise.
Animosity.
A truce.
Uneasiness.
Suffocation.


Helplessness.




Defeat.




Pride.



Remembrance.



Vanity.





Indifference.





I don't know what you want and you don't know what you want.
I know what I want and you think you know what I want.
You can't stay away and I can't bring myself to step closer.
You don't want to fall once and I've fallen enough times
To know how it feels to live in Vertigo.
You don't think you need to explain when you are such a veteran mouser
So your actions end up not making any sense
And i think in explaining lies all the essence
I'm volcanoes beneath a still pond, and you are a spasm of unrest 
And this is unnecessary, I realize as I listen to your jest
When your eyes be saying all the things you don't think you need to say out loud.
This is all so pointless, I sigh.
But in the grander scheme of things; this grinding of egos is eternal.
My defiance and your allure.
You want it to stop and I don't care if it doesn't.
See, I've been fighting for too long; my default setting is
To Endure.
When you've never let your heart stray too far to trip and scratch its knees.
This is a perpetual fray;
Because I love myself and you detest me for it.
Because you think you love me and I'm ought to hate you.
Because you love yourself and think that I should love you.
Because you love my kind and never made it known.
When I hate your kind and have always make it known.
The way you have to complicate things so simple.
They way I simplify things meant to be complicated.
How you reduced me into a mathematical problem
And crossed out my unknown variables.
Ones I couldn't bear with for 25 years,
Yet the ones I couldn't live without.
The ones you couldn't live with and didn't bother to solve.
Your richness of gestures and poverty of words.
And my faith in the weight of feelings spoken;
When my erratic actions are never a token.
How you never ventured to know me.
My dankness of being; and my lightness of soul.
How I came to learn all your nooks and crannies from the first dialogue
How you know that I know you.
So you run to hide in the shadows until I forget who you are.
The way you read the synopsis and skip through the epilogue.
The way I try to divine what's hidden between the lines.
This pride of mine and that fearlessness of yours.
You loathe me for it.
I adore you for it.

This singularity of mine and that vanity of yours.
You want me for it.
I abhor you for it.

Your sense of entitlement.
My apathy.
Your lawless measures.
My code of conduct.
Your lurking around and stealing glances.
Your trails and ambushes.
My disinterested forwardness.
Your emptiness.
My chaos.
Your ugliness.
My ugliness.
How you think I'm "good enough"
How I know that you are no good.

The way I still want you, nonetheless.
Want you.
Want you.
Want you.
In bright days and sleepless nights.
In busy outings and lonely evenings.
They way I can't stand your sight and turn away.
I chose this anarchy of feelings.
When I know that a black hole would stop this whole madness.

Because chaos is beautiful.
And its the only thing beautiful about us.

"Would you stay with me, my love, when we are old and gray ?"

"Heavy is the burden."

Note VI

I guess girls are so used to being two faced and manipulative to get to certain ends ,they find a person that doesn't give a single fuck to pretend that bad of a news.
Mans really said that I think and act like a guy because I explicitly cut ties with her friend lol I just don't get why one should avoid "looking bad" by steering clear from straight up confrontation. Confrontation isn't always bad.
Well, not fists and insults kinda confrontation : we are cultured species, after all; you can make a point straight without offending someone. Much.
I think if there is a certain kinda behavior that your friends engage in and affects your well being, contradicts with your lifestyle or ideals, something that you don't generally approve of and wish to divorce yourself from; you have a perfect right to reject what's imposed on you, or walk away when you can't.
And i got zero interest and energy to change someone, or what they do; and I don't think I have the right to school anyone in their mid twenties; so finna ghost ,m8.
Have a great life.
I didn't offend you explicitly, and never actually grabbed you by the shoulder and told you that you are too superficial and empty for me to associate with. My withdrawal from your life shouldn't be taken as a major offense. And your being so is not my issue.
Your evident displeasure doesn't stem from your downheartedness at being deserted by a beloved friend- let's cut the crap- as much as a How DARE She Hate Me kinda reaction to my "disapproval" of you, or your life, the way you do you.
The mere idea of you not being liked by somebody, no matter how uncool they may be to consider them a reference for your validation.
Here are some facts : Statistically speaking; it's impossible to get along with everyone you stumble upon. No matter how nice you really are; no matter how nice you think you are, no matter how nice you try to act. Giving them what they look for, telling them what they want to hear, doing everything in your power to make sure you earn their favor; the human nature is just innately disposed to shun what it perceives as a constant reminder of its shortcomings.

There are people that are legit gonna hate you for just being, I've seen it.

So why should anyone put themselves in a position where they have to strain themselves, mentally and emotionally, even physically, so as not to make someone feel bad, inferior, rejected, at their own expense?
Life is too short for that kinda shit fam.
Just walk away from trouble in flesh, what's bad for you, what makes you cringe. What kills your vibe uno. No need to force yourself into loving someone, even your life partner. No need for you to change your whole life just to feel accepted by someone. And the minute that you sense that it's becoming a pre requisite to change in order to be friends with a person; RUN.
Wallahi life is enough complicated as is.
And all this mess due to miscommunication and dishonesty is the most ridiculous kinda spice to add to that dish.
And for all I know ,conveying to a person, as politely as possible, by any means available -without even having to state it verbally, that you just don't dig them, no matter how offended it may make them feel- for they gon get offended anyway, is far less despicable than taking selfies with them at an outing then trash them when they leave first.
I don't get why.
You don't pay my wages ,m8.
Even if you did, my pride is just too damn expensive for you to buy. They know it at work; they knew it at college, and it's how I was raised; it has nothing to do with my family name :

"Take no bull from nobody; and watch as you get the respect that you deserve."
"Tell no lies to protect yourself, and put yourself in no position that will require you to do so."

I mean; if I don't suck up to the person that controls my residence visa and vocational future; what could you possibly have to offer in return for my acting as your chaperone?
You  just talk about other people when you are not on your phone talking to other people while out with the ones that you call your friends. The ones that may need your attention and presence to cheer up and feel connected, the ones that count on you to speak truthfully, and to care without them begging for it.
There are very few friendships that I still maintain and appreciate as a 25 y/o, and they all have one common factor : Candidness.
We don't dress up to go to the fanciest place in town just to record a nice snap story "with the squad", when we don't even talk to the squad.
We take our cups of tea and drive to the far beach behind the bridge and just chill. And laugh, plenty. Sometimes we don't talk when our hearts are equally sunken, and we listen to old songs, or stare at the ocean, quietly. The presence of each is enough consolation, at this point in our lives.
Sometimes, it's just about the company, rather than the place. They don't matter, our ages, how we look, who we are, where we've been, 
What we have done, 
What we want to be, our tribes,our skin colors, our troubles, our dreams,

We just live the moment together, and that is all that matters.

Friends that forget their phones in the car when y'all out. Friends that come over to help you pack and send you off at the airport past 12 pm. Friends that accompany you to the hospital, actually take leave to visit you, give you a ride or a battery charge when ya stuck in the middle of nowhere. Friends that come over for a week when there is a death in the family.
Friends that could tell your mood on the phone and come knocking at your door. Friends that have the emergency copy of your keys and get calls from your parents when you are out of reach.
Friends that don't leave you on read because it makes them vibe important, friends that tell you when they are busy only to hit you up when they aren't.
Friends that know when it's okay to bring up something you told them, and when it becomes a taboo. Friends that you call for counsel when you have a fight with your lover, that you stand behind in your bridesmaid dress, and years later, you know you gonna bring over your kids to play with theirs.
Friends like fam.
You don't even have to try so hard to keep them, they finna stay.
And you will never compare to that, constantly talking about how miserable and boring your life is without a boyfriend, when you dumped 10 of them in the last year, being high maintenance on purpose, prying on everyone's troubles just to spell tea at outings, mysteriously being out of reach when someone needs you.
It's not about giving and receiving in return: at some point you just gotta ask yourself why are you friends with this person ?
What is the value of their friendship to you ? Emotionally.
Is it important to you to keep them in your life ?
Do you want them to be at your wedding ?

If you are dying tomorrow, would you remember them to call and bid your farewell ?

i'm not judging though, hey, do you. But there is nothing here for me to listen to, to get entertained by, learn from, nor relate to. We just don't vibe, with all due respect.
And it's not a "guys thing" to be a direct-you-get-what-you-bargain-for kinda person. Your thinking like that makes it sound like girls are supposed to be naturally sly and two faced.
Don't tell me how to behave. Don't make it sound like a personality disorder.
Girls are crazy man. I wish I could change my gender, if they all think like that.

I'm not gay though.

June 2015.

You said my poetry was beautiful.

November 2011.
You told me to be happy on my birthday. The first to post on my Facebook wall, 12:00 am.

Not "happy birthday.",
Not "I wish you happiness."
Not "I hope you find someone that makes you happy."

Just "be happy."

And in these two words lied all the difference.

Dirge

For a while, I've been off grid, locked doors and let drapes fall on my panes

Days and nights alternated on a Mobius strip, while I watched the shadows stretch on the wall

Light through the cracks in my being

My regrets, I could never escape

I found solace in the curves of letters and the persisting stains of charcoal

A companionship so bitter, frequent clicks of tongues and muffled sighs

The lines I've read, and the salt of the tears I've shed, the acrid taste of unuttered farewells

The sweet stupor of consciousness and the comfortable vigil of oblivion

Twice a day when it strikes 11:11, I close my eyes and wish

That I never turn to someone else's ghost

I found distraction in endless road trips, I try to stay awake to my best

By talking to my reflection on the visor, eyes only

Deafening beats in my ears that still can't stifle the echoes through my chest

Kindred spirits with too many problems that make me ashamed to speak of mine

Used to say that I'm fine, waving, because I'd write them away, my aches, while alone

And bare, back home

Yet I can't write like I used to; they just don't sound as sincere, my lines

Perhaps, it's because you are not around to read them anymore

I'm too broke for the sport of balling, not that it was at all condoling when I used to indulge

Folks think I'm rich when I'm dolling with my last dimes;

It's just that a living wretch would put it into better use

Since I started to live like I'm going to fade along with the sunrise

They all left while I was busy trying to live, you see, and I didn't get to tell them

They all leave, one by one, and I keep not telling them all there is to be told

They keep leaving and none of them did I ever get to hold , one last time

Distance is a b*tch

I still send you messages on new year's; never stopped to wonder who held unto your phone

If it was buried along in that chill ditch; buzzed and buzzed until it sighed its last bar

If anyone would reply in jest, just to make my ruffled mind rest in peace

When my heart is in many pieces

I realize ,in great distress that demise is inevitable

One could want to live and love like a hurricane against time, but we are all going to fade

In the end

Only loved and cherished, after we have perished

And I have bled for many a night, my sorrows on these pages for you

All the words of tenderness that I've tucked under my tongue

When, alas ! our time , yours and mine, was slipping away

On here, this restlessness you stirred shall remain, an immortal metaphor

But say, who will mourn me away in their poetry , after I have left ?

I don't feel okay. For a week now.
The master has told me yesterday that I don't seem to be in the mood to write, that I've been brooding quietly. And perhaps I shouldn't have come if I couldn't be alert.
Strange, I was being talkative and smiling all day.
He saw through it, and when I tried to explain he waved his hand.

"Your curves are so pretty though."
I didn't know if he just wanted to make it all less worthless.

I can barely stand ,master; but I still came because this is all I've got to keep me sane.
Don't take this away from me. Please.

It's my lifeline.