إنه مجرد وهم

expressive free-writing blog. all rights reserved to Reem AL-Abdullah, 2017(c)

Category: controversial thinking

cigarette bud talk

feel your tongue curl in your mouth as you choke on your words that you should’ve said ages ago.

they fermented, they’re your bad breath and that sour taste you leave in the new woman’s mouth.

“why do you taste this way” she’d ask, hopeful you had lunch but really, you had none for two weeks now; you smile as she says you look healthier, but it’s only the rum and endless cigarettes you poison yourself with at night to fall asleep; lucid dreaming of memories you once thought were your whole life.

it’s the baggy sweater she bought you assuming your health; but you never got naked for her, she can’t see your rib cage breaking through your skin trying to spit out your heart.

i’m just a piece of shit now. they say.

but she’ll never know, if you haven’t either.

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sociopath

i can’t begin to explain how i pretend to be human.

yes, i “feel”.. to a certain degree?

i mean, i’m moody due to my bpd and i express! -for fuck’s sake, i am right now- but it’s different than what’s around me.. what’s supposed to be.

i know how to prefect something i’m not, surpassing ridiculous limits; you really have no idea, and it’s not out of malice, rather i feel.. obligated? to remain with the status quo? but technically i’m not!? i don’t know. all i know is that i’m reading this song’s lyrics about heartbreak and loss, and though i supposedly am going through the same thing; it’s rather betrayal i’m feeling that’s hurting my pride and the image of how things should still be.

my distraction is gone, what helps me pretend, that is it.

i’m too detached. to the extent where i want to go all the way; hoping at least i’d feel at peace, not this fake normal- well kept crazy!

why do i crave objectivity so much..

home

i physically want to crawl on all fours till i find your arms, unhinge my jaws and devour your chest, till i find home, drown myself in your fears; that’s where i belong. i might be your worst nightmare, but that only means you’re my safety, lover. i don’t understand most of what goes around me; the world is confusingly upside-down, most of the time. that’s why i hold on tightly to what i barely comprehend, that being you, as you scream pleading for our soundings to turn a one eighty, back to your heaven; to my living hell. 

existence / recording #2

IMG_5554.JPG

 

open link below for recording

>violet fact<

It Goes as Follows;

It goes as follows,

First I speak up;

Then follows,

“you’re too technical”, “too objective”, “you’re the one who’s unrealistic”

and then follows

all their emitted subjective, shallow opinions; I absorb it and feel it; empathise too much with it.

I become it, them.

I begin to self-loath; hate my own existence cause that what’s looking through their eyes feels like.

and as much as I’d like to think that I appreciate myself; I become more eager to end it all, definitively.

for feeling too conflicted? perhaps.

The demons come out and start drowning me inside out; then just from around.

they scream, plea and cry with love and hate all at once; all at once!

then comes the worst of all.. judgmental numbness..

there’s no going back now.

I Hate You, Dear Self..

no, no; I hate them.

so let go, run.

The Unfaithful Threesome 

it was at dusk that I kissed her lips for the very first time, and I realized as my arms went searching for more of her that thus moment was the moment I’ve been yearning for; the moment of my second birth. granted, it was my 4th attempt yet it felt like my very first; kiss. sweet, moist and passionate..

as her fingertips brought life to the bluebells on my spine my heart became hers once and for all. and as we laid on that rooftop’s grounds afterwards and my eyes met hers my soul screeched as it finally found home.. within her. 

a sweet battle of fire and water; she sets me ablaze and I put her out. we balance each other, but in that fleeting moment of chaos, oh the destruction we cause to one another.

I’m in love with the beautiful plant’s roots that took ground within my vessel of blood, love and water for its soil.

what do you call us

feeling like an orphan when both parents are alive

feeling like an only child when you got 8 other siblings 

feeling like you come from a small tree where in reality its branches are spreading across all seven skies and its roots comes from all over; consuming the glob!

“ungrateful bastard” they murmured as if loneliness only comes over those supposedly lacking

at least you get to dream and wonder maybe if you had them they would’ve probably loved you.

/shh you’re not allowed to complain

for now 

give me that breakthrough of a cure, baby; tell me they gave you the news that I’ll be just fine.they don’t know what’s wrong with the world and what’s before their eyes, let alone what goes around within my mind..

but why shall I worry when you try and force that crooked smile that goes along perfectly with my broken spine. 

yes, we’ll be fine for now and always if you’d like, just give me that damned placebo and hold me for just tonight.

am I really lost? II

In this life I get to choose.

To be good or bad. to live or to shut myself down. to grow or to break myself apart.

with the ability to relentlessly go back and forth between whichever till the end of my atomic assembly.

A false sense of control, but control nonetheless; Thus why I chose to remain a little while longer.

Enlightened at least.

Assuming I maintained my previous desire; what would happen if I ended my existence? The worst of course.

I would no longer ever have the upper hand.

For in the realm I’m currently in, it is my body alone that does not belong to me, but as for my sweet soul? all mine (and those I choose to give pieces of it to).

What about the afterlife realm? The graced, Godly Realm? -scoff-

My current vessel would be gone forever, replaced mayhap. And my soul enslaved. 

Good or bad, never both, never in-between. No more growing, no more reassembling and surely zero possibility to just. Be. Nothing. No more grey.

 A slave to the monstrous creator for all eternity. 

 I love endings; new beginnings even more. to lose all that forever makes me shudder with morbid fear.

am I really lost?

The shores of my soul have been harbouring the idea of death.

Yes, and for quite some time now. Taking my own life seemed my only way out. But a realisation then came along; what happens after death? What do I want to happen after my death, to me.

The afterlife -what will come next- is such a disgusting aspect, isn’t it?

To some it is what’s desired; meeting the creator, being at peace (supposedly), seeing those who departured before us, once again. all so horrible to the likes of me.

I would pretty much not and shall not ever be “graced” nor blessed to be in the “light” of our so called creator. ha! more like monster.

To exist isn’t the desire of all. I never was asked if I wanted to be here; not before nor during and surely not after!

Eternal life is a punishment within itself.

Which quite frankly is the answer to what comes next; my second question.