.

You can spend your life trying to fit the sky into a little golden cage, so that the bird you’re keeping would stop blaming you for taking away his freedom, but it would never be the same. You could spend hours painting flowers or your room’s walls so that butterflies would consider visiting you next spring, won’t you? You’re a bookworm that’s looking for itself in those yellowish pages, communicating with the characters you meet there more openheartedly than the people here. Yet, you belong somewhere in between those two fragile worlds of yours. No, being fragile isn’t wrong…being fragile doesn’t mean you’re weak. It’s just who you are. You’re a bit confused, a bit strong and a bit mean –even though you don’t mean to be-. Sometimes you feel like you’re so done with everything, so you stay away… you do that thinking that by staying away you’re doing everyone a favor, maybe it’s true, but at the same time you’re being mean, mean to yourself and mean to them –well, somehow-. The more time you spend in your fictional world the more you’ll fade away from here, and it’s not wrong, it’s safer there, it’s even –in some sense- more logical. It’s not running away from reality even if it looks like it. It’s a way to find you, the fragile you, yes it won’t take that away, it would just show you that it’s really ok. It would allow you to hallucinate as much as you want because it won’t affect anyone but you anyway. You know, you’ll still be the one to decide how it would affect your life, but for now, you can still live in between these two fragile worlds.

 

VPW

To Be a Tree

Loving places more than people. They might not understand how this whole world becomes a part of you just by touching a tree and feeling it, yes you can feel it, feel its strength in your veins, and how can someone not feel the amount of pride and hope it keeps inside it? And the reassuring it gives you that everything’s going to be ok, how can you not hear it telling you to be strong? Listen, and you’ll hear it telling you its story… how it stood still and never backed down.

"الأشجار تموت واقفة"

That was a title of a story I read a while ago. And it says it all. To die standing your ground! To be bigger than just you… bigger than life. To die after achieving something, it doesn’t matter if they approved it or not, they don’t have to like it, as long as it means something to you… as long as you believe in it. They’re in no position to judge you, even though they will.

To be a tree. How ridiculous it sounds… I know. But do you really believe that being a human is better? At least trees never harm anyone. They’re where anyone can belong, yes, you can belong to a tree. You’ll also be so trust worthy, how? Well, look at birds… do they trust humans? No. do they trust trees? Yes. As a tree, birds will be your closest friends, that means freedom will be your closest friend, the blue sky will be your closest friend. You think it’s boring to stand in one place forever? You want to see the world? –As if you’re going to do any good to it anyway- the world will come to you, birds will live on you, coming from far faraway! The raindrops will rest on your leaves on their immortal journey to the ground, they’ll even wave you goodbye before they sink in. And –maybe- someday someone will feel you, feel the life that’s kept inside, the heartbeat that had turned into a forest symphony long ago. And you might give that person the strength to move on. Being a tree isn’t just turning into wood and leaves, it isn’t giving a shadow and peace to a person either. It’s bigger that your superficial way of seeing things. It’s bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all of us.

You can’t choose to be a tree. You’re human through and through, I get it. I know you think this is nonsense, but when you get attached to a tree, it becomes a part of you. A part that teaches you how to stand your ground.

I’d rather be a tree, to be honest. Not a wooden tree, a human tree.

Yes.

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I Belong Here

I slowly walked in. It was incredible how I was capable of breathing again! It was different, but somehow the same… exactly the same.  The scent of flowers, and the lazy sunlight in the early morning was like coming back to life after so long. I can almost swear I saw her sitting there in her old rocking chair near the window listening to birds while reading a classic. The smell of mint filled my lungs as I walked toward her. She was probably drinking tea. I heard a little girl’s laugh. She was running barefoot around the kitchen. Snow started falling, the sleepy summer morning turned into a winter night, white, pure. A smile fought with the tears running down my cheeks, a shout came out. She put her book aside and asked me about my trip. I ran and hugged her, air hugged me back. The little girl continued laughing... laughing loud… really loud. Silence has absolutely decided to get me deaf tonight. Sigh. I fell on my knees, looked her in the eye. She smiled. I tried reaching for her hand. The little girl got in the way. “Don’t!” she yelled. Her laugh faded. “You…” I barely whispered. “Yes” she cried. I hugged her tight, but didn’t mean to get my nails into her flesh. My back started bleeding. She screamed of pain. I backed off. She laughed.

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....

She took a step, looked backward, and then tried taking a deep breath. The silence was too loud, the eyes staring at her saw right through her. She slowly drowned in the darkness for the spotlight made no effort to chase her around. A beautiful symphony moved her little heart and brought back a blurred flashback, a small girl in a small town watching a bird fly and disappear in the horizon, a small girl who risked it all, a small girl who never knew. The music seemed to never end, and she had no clue what was going on. She was up in the clouds, she was in a black and white picture in a broken frame, she was an old letter that was never sent. The audience faked some smiles and clapped as the dead symphony faded. She froze, stared at their faces, looked up and almost flied.

VPW

Untogether but Unchangeable

What if the mirror that you're staring at is the one that's broken? What if the only "you" you've ever known was the one you saw through those shattered pieces? What if going home\finding where you belong was only hard 'cuz you'd always walk down the road instead of falling into the sky?

You already know that "you'll always gonna stay, untogether" but being untogether isn't bad, at least you'll just be you.. unfixed. All of the pieces will belong to you, you'll be immaculate and no made-up emotions will be there to keep you holding on. You'll hold on 'cuz you're satisfied with the untogether you. And since that people's opinion doesn't matter at that point, they'd know you're halfway drifted, but still they won't try pulling you back 'cuz they know they'll mean absolutely nothing to you if they try saving\changing\fixing you. They'll still find it hard to accept the broken you, the one that time has shaped to perfectly fit your life but still in an inappropriate way, as they'll think. They'll see you so incongruous in a way or another, but yet you'll be unchangeable. 

VPW

Nothing..,

when your thoughts follow you more than your fragile heart can handle. when the night comes and your little world dresses in black and mourns over the sun light that slipped away. When there "isn't enough wind to rip the nails out of the past". When you suddenly miss everyone you've ever knew, and almost regret the choices you've made.. the decisions that changed your life forever. You find out that all what keeps you going.. wait.. you don't really know what keeps you going! is it the hope for a better day, or you just go on 'cuz you go on? 

when you freeze from the inside and your soul shatters. All what keeps the pieces tied together is the fear of causing any sort of pain to the ones you care about, without even wondering if they feel the same way 'cuz you just do. Your feeling are your own, they can be one-sided if you choose to. The other side shouldn't affect you whether they knew or didn't. Somehow they don't matter. They're just there as a matter of fact and nothing else. If it makes sense, your feeling are your own little private things, you can share them if you want to, but if you don't .. they'll remain pure .. exactly like the first time you got them. 

when the world slowly turns into a monster. When you shutdown on yourself and block out the world. When dreams\nightmares take over your life, and reality becomes nothing much to worry about. Faded pictures, blur memories and flashbacks become everything. Simply, when there's nothing left to lose.

"and I wish that I could,

snap my fingers, make myself disappear.

snap my fingers, get myself out of here."

vpw

-[ جُنونُ تناقض .,،

 هذا كُنت، و هكذا سأكون.. دوماً، رُبما. آخذ الأمور بطفولية.. أحياناً، و أحياناً أخرى أبالغ بمدى جدية أخذي لها. قد أحمرّ خجلاً بسبب كلمة عابرة أو قد أكون باردة تماماً. أهِيَ حيرة؟ رُبما.. و كيف لي أدري؟ مُجرد بقايا، تِلكَ أنا.. أو هكذا قيلَ لي. أتَفَوّه بِكَلماتٍ حمقاء ثمّ أندم، و أكررها فأندم من جديد، إلى أن.. أصمُتَ تماماً. قد لا يكون الحل المثالي لكنه يفي بالغرض إلى حدّ ما. تغيّرتُ حقّاً في الأشهُر الأخيرة، ليس بسبب تكرار قولِهم ذلك.. لا، تغيّرت بالفِعل. طبيعَتي الهادئة بدأت بالتلاشي، و اللامُبالاة أصبحت من أولى الكلمات في قاموسي، و رُبما الأيضاً ذلك الشعور المُزعِج بالفراغ و عدم الرغبة بفعل أي شيء على الإطلاق. إما ضحك أو بُكاء، أين اختفى الحل الوسط؟ أهُو تحديقي المستمر في الفراغ... لا أدري إن كانت اللامُبالاة قد أوصلتني إلى هذا الحد أم أن الأمر كان داخلي منذ البداية. فحين أبتسم لا يبذل وجهي أي جهد لإظهار تلك الإبتسامة فتبقى محبوسة في الداخل، رغم صدقها التام. و الحال ذاته إن حزت أو غضبت. أجل قد أسرح بخيالي فجأة، فلا تظن أني أتعمد تجاهلك. كما أنني أصبح صماء تماماً عندما أقرأ، فلا تُحاول مناداتي، أو حتى الصراخ فهُو لن يجدي. ما من داعٍ لأن تحكُم علي من موقف عابر أو مُحادثة قصيرة، أو حتى بعد وقت طويل من معرفتي. لأنّ العشوائية التامّة قد تُسيطر على أفعالي أو كتاباتي . فأنا مزيج من تناقضات لم أميز بينها للآن. فإن لم أكُن قد عرفتُ نفسي بعد، فكيف لك أنت؟ و إلى أن يحين الوقت الذي سأتعرف فيه على تِلك الـ[أنا] داخِلي.. سأكون مُتناقضة، مُتناقضة بجُنونٍ قد لا يُعجِبك، لكنني أعشَقُه.

VPW