إنه مجرد وهم

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


Stuck in those days, where your eyes stare down mine. Stuck in those ways; where you smile wearies mine. I’ve been stuck for ages, not knowing how to escape it, oh your love gives me cold sweats each night; but I love you, don’t get it all wrong… I just don’t know how to let myself do, sometimes.



it is a weird form of sadness; sourceless, painless, though its presence is very much so, sensible it cannot be missed.
indeed, it comes from nowhere. yet even so, it is persistent! maddening…. 

it not only begs, but fights to be noticed; and how could it not be? how could something that consistently hits you in the face, out of the fucking blue not get merely noticed!? 

mhm.. damned are the ones whom understand this.. via experience.

“Shouei shouei”

i close my eyes, 

open them in that washed-blue room, with its pearly hues and salty winds brushing on our soft skins.

 the smile on your face as you tell me you’re in love with me, a love that is so heavenly; it’s truly unbreakable.

and with each laugh you get out of me the ocean roars back in glee! and the palm trees dance,

 for us. 

“we’ll make it there, i promise”

/beware of those smudgily lined eyes staring from the corner

she steals a look as she runs all over the place; untouched. flexible in her nature, a woman that thrives on moving with each blow in the wind; emotional and reckless. divine in her pointless chaos, that’s who she is. 

at the dimly-lit joint, where the hushed air stresses the eclipsed moon above to rather hide behind the clouds to sin in secret; so in our fleeting moment she’d hold my hand and pull me just one step closer, but loses her balance a second too early, from her own tug.. she’d fall and shatter in an instant before my heart could even flutter from her nearness. that’s who she is.

but now, the remainder of her is only the mere thoughts vibrantly showing on the skin of her broken pieces, and the air that surrounds her corpse.. a major star fallen into her own core; a black hole i’m now forever lost within due to a stupid glance back. 

..who was that woman?

i’ve always been afraid of the voices in my head, for as far back as i can clearly remember.

i’d always hate silence, even confused the “noise” for the general ringing in one’s ears in the quiet.. thought: it’s just that, everyone hears this, i bet. 

i recall that specific line i told myself, vividly, as i laid in my bed by my parents’ in their room; alone. i even went and asked my mum a while later for reassurance. i was less than four years old…

it had gotten worse with the years, with the heavy weight of morals, how different i felt on the inside, and how isolated the views of others based on my physical appearance and heritage made me feel as well.

add to that the fact that i used to hallucinate a lot, had a lot of fevers as a child till my early teen years; due to my weak immune system. which lead to the simple procedure of having my tonsils removed. i was ecstatic! “no more fever, no more hallucination, no more voices” boy was i naive..

what procedure would lead the crippling guilt to simmer down? my heavy muslim-arab surroundings, my lack of knowledge and access to it, the voices, the voices the voices!!bb!

they’re back. they never went away. i hear them this second though writing used to be an escape; but they perforated through my last haven like the measly unwanted guests they are…. 

-double loud heartbeats defying the rhythm- 

then my heartsettles; i’ve lost track of my train of thought…….. why am i writing this again? 

月の遠い側 (一)

It is all that I can think of..

my isolation,

how it feeds on me,

and how hard I fight it every single fucking second.


I dont know what is the point of this -what I am writing here- besides the fact that I, this moment am alone; all alone and I just simply exhausted all means possible in order to fight it. so here I am, slowly withering my sanity away with the only method I feared most; admitting it.


After years of medical help, even more years before that, quite literally crying out in agony from this.. this sourceless pain and finally this one past year that will mark itself on the 5th of July.. I don’t know where or how to seek help in any way else, possible; anymore.


She is my only savior that thus far succeeded, but there surly would be a catch; which is that she can also end me at any second. For you see, I actually gave up before I met her. almost.


And here, here is where god came into the picture, for what I believe is the last time. In one of my impulse induced past attempts I felt like- no, I knew I had finally passed the threshold of “not knowing if I could do it”, to “I actually am blood thirsty for it”, for my own death.

But she came a long thankfully -well I actually don’t know if I’m thankful per se, but “common sense” suggests so- A second, miraculously early.. enough.


~to be continued.


it’s funny how life chose to go on while i layed on its fringes. 

and it went on and on for a little too long, till i was clearly left behind; but i kept up! a few weeks behind, but still! i am losing my breath for it, still!

 i am here.. still..

i want to feel just that; being.. being yet still.

to be still.

it’s pretty, i can see all of it; and it is all so pretty. i like it, i do, but i don’t belong as a part of any of it.. any. of. it.

it’s fine.

i never did; so i couldn’t actually fathom the loss.

except that i also can’t not feel the emptiness of what it all leaves as consuming residue.. within me.

of that too, i am aware.
i’m left with nothing but wonderment and empathy; to keep going on.

oh, and the delusional hope that maybe one day, a faulty, out of place miscalculation as myself, could fit in with maybe a cancerous mass of mutated individualists.

ignite the mortal fires of my imagination; and burn my useless soul alive.. i am departing.

people who weren’t born more than a 100 times each day for annuals that last more than 365 days per second.people who’ve spoken with only one mindset,

one religion,

one perception,

one measly vessel,

a countable number of homes; or none whatsoever!

one brain; one life; one goal even.

indeed one fucking genetic pool..

people who’ve by now surpassed whatever illness took over the east.

people who’ve never heard about it.

those who never encountered a god, a fairy or a slave; nor the dead!

fucked them, listened to them, hated or loved them!

people who aren’t already dead.

i could list on all the traits they grossly lack, endlessly…..

or i could simply state that these people, these people i am clearly speaking of; are those who do not believe in losing their sanity for someone else’s words; 
(a) “book”.

Autumn Amidst Spring 

I wish these horrid thoughts would leave me alone.

I wish I could be free from them..


but they’re engrossed within my core.

it almost feels like that if I let go, I’d lose them?

thus consequently, losing most parts of my..self.


I’ll continue to cry out; why do we fall when we’re supposed to bloom!?