Tehreem Ali's Blog, page 7

Pulvis et Umbra Sumus

We live and we die. That is how it is meant to be. It is a principle engraved in our flesh and bone, in the light of the stars falling on us, on the roots running deep in the ground, on every speck of dust and every drop of rain that falls on our faces and washes the blood and tears away. It is the inevitable. It is the reality.

Or is it? For what is reality after all?

We come into this world, all young and innocent; without any knowledge or perception of anything whatsoever. So they take us by the hand and lead us on. Where to, they decide. All we get is a pat on the back and a blindfold handed to us. Ignorance is the guideline in their books after all. We fall on our way, we stumble, we run, we walk, we crawl, we get back up���or we do not. All that is really visible to our otherwise blind sight at that moment is the path already laid bare for us by the blank minded amateur guides we have with us. Along the way, time and age catch up with us. The drops of innocence start to drift away from our minds and the sap of our hearts is replaced with a strong instinct to explore and search and live as much as we can.

When the sentinels leave our bed side, we feel we are left alone. For the demons that hid under our beds and behind closed doors and inside locked rooms and cupboards ��� all of them find refuge in our blood shot eyes and tethered souls. There, they feed off from the pain and anger we try to hide.

The moment we step into the prime of life, we are handed a bowl filled with a drug of black principles and theories and what not, all of which we are asked to drink up without any resistance to the distaste it holds within it. And do we drink it? Yes, we do. Because that is what they have implanted in our apparently ignorant minds ��� a seed which only requires a craving to help it grow, and that comes from the drug we are made to drink. It becomes an addiction, you see. The taste lingers, the burning sensation makes our insides thrum with a wakefulness. So we ask for more. More of the principles and theories and all else it comes with. When this drug sets in, it takes hold of all the dark and empty corners of our minds, all the silent hallways up there filling up with the scent of the drug. That is the moment when those principles and theories start to set in and grow in us. They cast a blind over the light within us; a light that could have led us to a sky filled with opportunities and so much more. Yet the drug makes us slaves to its crimson chorus of disease.

So we stop questioning and looking and wondering why and challenging and eventually���we stop trying. We become these silent figures just passing time in this otherwise empty valley of the lost. We accept things as they come knowing it could go differently, knowing it could be better than it actually is. So all we have been taught since the day we opened our eyes���what if it has all been nothing but an illusion? What if there is more to all these principles and theories we have been led to believe from the start? They say all good things come to an end, but why, they never say. Yes, better might come after the good has gone���.but what if you do not get to see the ���after���? For the wheels of life and time spin faster than your mind or perception can. They say if you love someone let them go, that if they are really meant to be in your life, they will strive hard for it. But what if you let go and so do they and then both start expecting the same thing from each other, waiting to see who strives first? For before you know, there might be nothing left to strive for in the end. They say silence is often an answer too. But what if the wrong question was asked to begin with? They say love is blind, but what if it is blind and deaf and paralyzed too? They say if it is meant to happen, it will happen for it is simply written in our fate, but what if that fate has already been erased? Should not another one be written instead, rather than just sitting and waiting? They say everything is going to be okay in the end.

But what if there is no end?

So we live and we die and that is how we fade away. Or rather, most of us simply exist. If we do not exist, we survive. If we do not survive, we struggle ��� the hallmark of all the hiding away and pretending all breaking apart in silence as the joy walks past beside us. They say everyone deserves and can be happy. But they are wrong in that too. Happiness is a part of everyone; joy is the actual feeling. Now, not every one of us is born with that part, some have an empty, aching grey hole in its place instead. That part is rather things or people who, once come into our lives, bring about that feeling of joy to us.

Everybody strays, everybody falls. But not everybody has enough strength left in them to get back up, dust off the dust from their clothes, hold their head up high and walk on. There is this war we fight, with swords carved out of pieces of broken hearts, anger gushing out from mouths and blood seeping from lost lines, blames and lies and betrayal running with our shadows. The gloom hides, but it never leaves. Ending what has not started, chasing visions of a blind love we buried long ago. You or I does not even exist. It is just this earth with our shadows roaming on it, tormented. I fall into a deep iron sea and find the defeated souls swimming there, the blackness of their disease drowning me with them.

But then the sun breaks in through the strong waves. The hand that modeled this life shows me how to live and gives me wings to fly and even though I do not know anything about the art of flying, yet I will try.

For if it is not this soul that can fly, my dust and shadow definitely will; it is one or the other.

 

Filed under: Amateur, Human Nature, Life Tagged: amateur, balance, human nature, life, skepticism

Rubber Band Hearts

When you play with a heart, do you know the color it takes afterwards? Or the places its broken pieces drift away to, with nothing to hold onto, no way of knowing if they will ever be put back together? Of course you don���t, not when the rain falling on your eyes is the blood falling from your mind; the dark crimson shade putting a camouflage on everything you see around you.

I am the nameless ghost walking in your memory hall, the choice you neglected, the arrow you broke in a blind target, the door you lost the key to, the shadow less figure roaming in your fears, that piercing echo in your otherwise troubled yet silent night, the odds depriving all your favors, the ghastly palor that you see in the mirror as you stand defeated, the lesson you ignored to learn after that grey pool of mistakes you drown in, the doubt lingering in your eyes, the red of the anger you try to hide, the anchor you let go when you suffer, the boat waiting on the harbor of your ignorance from which you sailed away from, the hand you let go off, the promise you broke, the smile you crushed with the blink of an eye, the heartbeat you try to silence every night as you lie in a sheet of your sweat, the right you painted wrong, the moment you desperately write and rewrite with blood, the savior you took to be a vigilante without a purpose, the mask trying to shield you from the horror that has become you, the depths of the ocean you drown into every night in your dreams, the forevermore and the last regret you make from now on.

Yes, playing with hearts comes easy. A lie here, an illusion there; it is easy and quick. But then it haunts you, the inevitable reality of what you did. It follows you wherever you go, down into those dark alleys of your mind, behind closed doors of your other self, above and below all you are and wish to be. The voices will echo in your head and ears, jarring other sounds from the world around you as it passes by you. The rivers will remind you of the blood you spilled when the dreams and hopes you had were broken with your bare hands. No one can save you, for what doesn���t change you doesn���t have anything worth saving in it in the first place. There is no return from the guilt and the shame and the hurt you hide, just a cause of the heartache you caused. There is no denying your wrongs no matter how white and pure they may seem.

This colorless blood runs through my veins and when it falls on your skin, it burns. The anger in this charred heart shall pierce your grey one like a sword every time it beats. This name shall not just be a memory but a reminder of what you lost. This hope will be the ground you fall upon when your wings burn and burn they shall, for the skies have seen my injustice; and they never spare, make no mistake. This diamond will cut through your veins and rip your heartstrings and then lay them bare on a bed of thorns. This breathe shall be like a storm filled with rage and hurt and pain all mixed together, blowing and throwing you off shore from this place you think is your safe haven.

You will never see me fall. You will never see me break and bend. The color of pain and anger is what fuels this head and heart and soul. Not everything is meant to be beautified from winds of springtime. Some have to fade and wither away so terribly to find their new color in another garden. This is not a mind I live in here anymore; it is a battlefield with my thoughts as soldiers always on the forefront, ready to fight and to win or die trying. It is not a soul I breathe from anymore; it is a shadow I sail with in my crimson valleys of fears and doubts. And it is not a heart I beat from anymore; just a callous, hardened rubber band which can stretch far beyond your eyes can see into. For I have spread the paints of anger and pain on my heartstrings so they are rough now; using the stick of survival, I beat on the heart drums and the rhythm that comes out from the sound of that heartbeat shall be one that hurts your ears every time you try to come close and inside. For, after all, what does not hurt and kill makes you strong in the end. Weakness becomes a stranger to you then, a stranger you wish never to meet.

Filed under: Amateur, Human Nature Tagged: anger, growth, heart, heartache, survival

Flying The Fear

Sometimes, there is no path, but just a bleak haze on the corner of Reality. What often appears beautiful to one eye might seem chaos to the other. But yet, the rain falls on us all rather than only on the weary travelers of the night, their shoulders bloodied and bruised from carrying the weight of their disease. The sun shines on every smile and every tear, so why does the fear we hide and the pain we shed crumble away in the dusty shadows?

He who digs the grave shall be the one to fall in it���or so I have been told from the start. And what is the start anyway? As far as I can remember, I have always been wandering in this cold valley of grey, piercing confusion. It stabs my mind, shakes my rest. Tell them I have gone in its deepest of depths and only I can bring myself back from it. For it is here and here alone that I feel the unimaginable and conquer the unseen and chase behind shadows that sing and walk on lines of blood and paint my dreams on the high walls and speak the language they never understood and see the pain I hide and all I do, I do in the name of this heart and soul that has yet to learn to evolve. Evolve from its darkness, from a lingering red that has crept up on its surface from so long now.

Every mind hides a secret. But what is hidden to the roots underground is visible to the stars up above. Often I lie there in the sweat of a pain untold, not waiting for it to end, but waiting for the strength to overcome it. And it does come, in the dark of the night, in the silence of my fears; taking me to places I thought did not exist.

Maybe I am too young to hold another heart in these callous hands. Maybe I make more mistakes than there is room for in this life. Maybe I am too tough to feel the soft clouds of innocence as they graze my mind. Maybe I cannot find the answers to all your questions in time. Maybe I drift away too long in my own silence and my own thoughts. Maybe I am less than a shadow you want to see roaming around your halls of glory. Maybe I am not all that the skies wished to look upon. Maybe I will not rise above my ashes to become your dust. Maybe I am too narrow a valley for all your desires to be placed in. Maybe I am lost in a waterfall of deception behind my own blacks and blues. Maybe I cannot lead the way for your dreams and put them to rest in reality. Maybe I am standing too far away from the sound of the dance you wish me to see. Maybe I have conquered way too less than the sentinels of Life want me to. Maybe I am not all I can be. Yet if I am to rise from my ashes, I shall burn to the evergreen flame that you try to put away with a breathe of lies and sin.

All that roams these streets in the hidden night; it shall be found someday by the hands of those who never stopped looking. The world is a cruel place, they say. But what is crueler is that demon sitting in the corner of your mind, in that corner above the palace of your secrets and thoughts and dreams, whispering to you what you are and what you are not, hitting your consciousness with a growing crimson darkness. Don���t you hear it, its cries of misery? It beckons you forward, into the pit of Death, onto the platform of doom. And yet you smile, faking everything from the inside out���all the while the demon inside your mind silently teaches you how to be blind to the specks of beauty present here and there, how to be crueler.

Yes, they are afraid. Afraid to let go a little, to let their guard down. Afraid to throw back the veil from their hearts and reveal its true color for it is so dark by now, they are afraid for the world to see it, afraid it will go black from the darkness of their burnt hearts. Afraid to love. Yet little do they know that despite all the gloom and hurt they hide from, among all that there lies a little diamond with its brightness covered by the grey sheets of the harsh reality of this world; in their struggle to hide away, they ignore the pointed rays of this diamond called Love that spread out every now and then in the deepest seas of pain, above the darkest of skies, behind the tallest of mountains that stand atop lies and misery, in the insides and outsides of all that they think is otherwise impossible. They ignore it all. All they need is to open their eyes and minds and know where to look for that diamond. It may not be forever. But it can survive anything as long as they let it, even if that means a lost moment in the sea of Time.

Letting go of everything you hold back, that is how fear dies. It is a dark shadow which, when you finally set it free, travels on this cloud of white purity and sails above lands of strange and vivid colors; colors that light up our lives even if we realize it or not. To some, they are known as hope. Others call them faith, while still more call it joy or satisfaction or ambition. But no matter what you name them, these colors fill all our dark valleys, all our dreary paths, all our broken and bent up lines. Something that has been ingrained in you as a whole does not just fade away. Neither the screams of your demons nor their cries of silence, neither the needles of doubt that creep up on you every so often nor the ugliness of your mistakes can erase those colors.

And all those colors are nothing but rays emanating from that diamond called Love.

 

 

Filed under: Amateur, Human Nature, Life, Optimism Tagged: amateur, fear, human nature

An Air Balloon Called Love

And I ran���into the red mist of my fears, following the shrieks of my demons howling hungrily ��� into the pit of Love. The depth is inevitable, the darkness unlimited. The coldness here is pinching, the heaviness such a burden heavier than death. I slip away into the other realm, past the walls and the mirrors. What do I see, the ghosts lurking there ask me.

I see an infinity wrapped around beads of hope. The silence here is not an omen of a danger yet to come; it is a welcoming song into the unknown where only the brave hearted can venture into. So if you hear this song and learn its rhythm and feel the angels up above singing along its chorus then you are the lucky ones. The red mist is not the mist of blood that flows every time a heart breaks. It is the halo of the ups and down, the mistakes made and the lessons learned , the words left unspoken and the smiles drying and falling, the closeness and the passionate touch, the small misery and the unknown reward after it, the pale death of the doubt and the fear, the promises and their chords, the fading roads and the signs leading to everywhere, the twists and turns, the pictures and the clouds, the greys and the blues, the quite solitude and the calm sea of iron, the skies of faith and evermore.

So from there I followed the red mist. It led me to a forest that seemed to have no end. But everything has an end after all. I waded and waded and clawed my way through the thick bushes. At last, I reached the edge of a hill where the sentinel warmed me of the fall ahead. There seemed to be no way out. But there is always a way out. It was either the falling down���.or falling in. In what, I asked the sentinel.

In the red air balloon called Love, waiting impatiently for you at the other side of this hill; and risk was the name of this hill, he told me.

So I climbed the summit of the hill. There indeed, standing majestically, I saw a giant red air balloon waiting for me like the last beads of rain dancing in the morning sky after a heavy rainfall. I cut the chord and stepped in it. If risk has a sentinel, this one had none: it flew away right into the high air, cutting through the air currents with the majesty it was surrounded with.

The red air balloon flew me above many lands ��� a land called Hope where the people were blind but worked hard; and a land called Joy where the skies never knew the color of despair; a land called Pain where the trees had broken hearts hanging on their branches and more intact ones present in their roots; and a land called Hope where the walls had fallen yet everyone kept building new ones; a land called Death where the silence cut through the grey and pierced the skin of the innocent; and a land called Eternity where even though the souls wandered aimlessly yet with a loud smile and a resilient will above their heads.

There were more unknown places the balloon sailed me above. I did not ask , it did not say. And that is the beauty of it. For the unknown made me venture out alone, no matter what the world told me, no matter what fear and doubt told me, no matter what destiny showed me. For there is no destiny except the ways you pave yourself and the mistakes you leave behind like bread crumbs that will lead you back home. The beauty of the unknown led me through, like a multicolor visage pushing me onto an otherwise invisible track.

Yes, there is pain and there is darkness. But in the end, it is the falling in the red air balloon called Love that I prefer rather than the falling��down to a numbness to never hurt and hence never feel at all.

For it is the falling in you can come back from, not the falling down.

Filed under: Amateur, Human Nature, Life, Optimism Tagged: amateur, heart, human nature, humanity

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,000 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 50 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Filed under: Uncategorized

My Shadow

This broken smile, this bloodied teardrop, this evaporating breathe I waste away into, this silence, this thought screaming with demons, this curtain of gloom, this question hanging from the ceiling, this second melting further and further away from my grasp, this history I write, this line I try loudly to understand, this camouflage I wear, this neck deeply smothered, this wish drifting into fantasy, this song repeating itself in my life-grave, this scene from a memory, this wind piercing me with Reality, this night standing guard over me, this sun turning its back on me, this root making space for my limbs to be buried in, this mud making statues of my wounds, this bruise how sick and tired of healing that now it’s forgotten to heal, this apology lost in the unknown, this background of silently moving images, this place filling with weeds of my misery, this room suffocating me within, this mystery mirroring me, this clash and bang inside my head, this want falling to tethers underground, this reason running and running and running so very very far away, this clenched fist dripping red on the lines, this waste of a dump called soul leaving me, this heat soaring and burning my coldness from the inside out, this bravery being defeated from the army of Gloom and breaking into pieces, this darkness that lurks how comforting and soothing, this lake running over my dry lands of grace, this basket filled with roses of Death, this pain I rule over, this thorn I bear inside my heart, this fear I don’t yet perceive, this word I search for, this color I choke on, this day I exist in, this road I lose myself upon, this book I tear myself in, this drawing I fake, this idea I blacken, this sound I eat, this hurt I hide, this gloom I dance with, this dissatisfaction I’m imprisoned in, this helplessness I fall into, this dark and deadly abyss holding me, this mess I’ve made to follow, this legacy I erase, this sign I paint with my noise, this rope I weakly cling to, this answer lurking never to be seen, this wisdom washed away, this love gone dry, this shadow I hug, this memory I stay in, this vein becoming black, this arm losing its strenght, this world oh so lost, this feeling so emty, this bone all ash and dust, this root destroyed and bloodied, this laughter so hollow, this cry so deafeningly silent, this dizziness I bear my teeth to, prayer unfelt, this image black and blue, this sky reflecting the death of ground that’s me, this dream so gripping, this sanity so useless, this hand so longing, this demon in my mind staring from the dark corner silently, this secret spilling red on my concrete, this life so wasted and unwanted – it is not theirs nor yours nor ours nor mine.

It is but of the shadow that is me.

Filed under: Amateur, depression Tagged: amateur, depression

Garth Nix

Garth Nix

The Old Kingdom Trilogy
Book 1 Sabriel

 

Sent to a boarding school in Ancelstierre as a young child, Sabriel has had little experience with the random power of Free Magic or the Dead who refuse to stay dead in the Old Kingdom. But during her final semester, her father, the Abhorsen, goes missing, and Sabriel knows she must enter the Old Kingdom to find him.

With Sabriel, the first installment in the Abhorsen trilogy, Garth Nix exploded onto the fantasy scene as a rising star, in a novel that takes readers to a world where the line between the living and the dead isn’t always clear—and sometimes disappears altogether.

Download ebook here -  Book 1 Sabriel

Book 2 Lirael

Lirael has never felt like a true daughter of the Clayr. Now, two years past the time when she should have received the Sight that is the Clayr’s birthright, she feels alone, abandoned, unsure of who she is. Nevertheless, the fate of the Old Kingdom lies in her hands. With only her faithful companion, the Disreputable Dog, Lirael must undertake a desperate mission under the growing shadow of an ancient evil.

In this sequel to Sabriel, winner of the Aurealis Award for Excellence in Australian Science Fiction, New York Times best-selling author Garth Nix weaves a spellbinding tale of discovery, destiny, and danger.

Download ebook here - Book 2 Lirael

Book 3 Abhorsen

The Ninth was strong and fought with might, But lone Orannis was put out of the light, Broken in two and buried under hill, Forever to lie there, wishing us ill. So says the song. But Orannis, the Destroyer, is no longer buried under hill. It has been freed from its subterranean prison and now seeks to escape the silver hemispheres, the final barrier to the unleashing of its terrible powers.

Only Lirael, newly come into her inheritance as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, has any chance of stopping the Destroyer. She and her companions — Sam, the Disreputable Dog, and Mogget — have to take that chance. For the Destroyer is the enemy of all Life, and it must be stopped, though Lirael does not know how.

To make matters worse, Sam’s best friend, Nick, is helping the Destroyer, as are the necromancer Hedge and the Greater Dead Chlorr, and there has been no word from the Abhorsen Sabriel or King Touchstone.

Everything depends upon Lirael. A heavy, perhaps even impossible burden for a young woman who just days ago was merely a Second Assistant Librarian. With only a vision from the Clayr to guide her, and the rather mixed help of her companions, Lirael must search in both Life and Death for some means to defeat the Destroyer.

Download ebook here - Book 3 Abhorsen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Books Tagged: books

Playlist 2 – Classical/Istrumental

Briony by Dario Marianelli

London by James Newton Howard

The Gravel Road by James Newton Howard

Flow Like Water by James Newton Howard

Bedroom Dreams by James Newton Howard

The Village OST Embertone Violin by James Newton Howard

Why So Serious by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard

Lux Aeterna By Clint Mansell

Death Is The Road To Awe by Clint Mansell

Welcome To Lunar Industries by Clint Mansell

Wind by Brain Crain

The Dark Knight Rises by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard

Ezio’s Family by Jesper Kyd

Venice Rooftops by Jesper Kyd

Tour of Venice by Jesper Kyd

Earth by Jesper Kyd

Chevaliers de Sangreal by Hans Zimmer

Adagio For Strings by Samuel Barber

Transformers:Fall of Cybertron Main Theme by Troel Folmann

Soul Outside by Antonio Pinto

Snitch OST by Antonio Pinto

Consequences by Antonio Pinto

Solitude by Antonio Pinto

Warlord by Antonio Pinto

Schindler’s List Main Theme by John Williams

Seven Days,Seven Seconds by Angelo Milli

Dueling Guitars OST August Rush by Keith Thornby

The Old Man by Marcelo Zarvos

Morning Montage by Marcelo Zarvos

The Odd Life Of Timothy Green Main Theme by Geoff Zanelli

Filed under: Music Tagged: music

Playlist 1 – Random

I’m Not The One by Dead Professional

Last Words by Hospitality

Hit and Run by Lolo

Strange Ways by Anberlin

Asleep by The Smiths

Don’t You Forget About Me by The Simple Minds

Bonfire Heart by James Blunt

1973 by James Blunt

Heart Like Yours by Williamette Stone

When We Were Young by Take That

The Flood by Take That

Rule The World by Take That

You Know It’s True by Jules Larson

I Want It All by Jules Larson

Science and Faith by The Script

The Man Who Can’t Be Moves by The Script

Breakeven by The Script

Nothing by The Script

For The First Time by The Script

That’s What I Like About You by The Romantics

Lemon Tree by Fool’s Garden

We Hit A Wall by Chelsea Wolfe

The Waves Haves Come by Chelsea Wolfe

Be Free by King Dude ft. Chelsea Wolfe

Exit Music (for a film) by Radiohead

We Come Running by Youngblood Hawke

Byegone by Volcano Choir

For My Help By Hayden Calnin

Lightning by Nico Vega

In The Long Run by Port Isla

Sinking Ship by Port Isla

Mistakes Like This by Prelow

Dizzy by New Palace Talkies

Dust In The Wind by Daughter Darling

And The World Was Gone by Snow Ghosts

Lost At Sea by Snow Ghosts

Houdini by Foster The People

Can’t Get You Out Of My Head by Kylie Minogue

More To This by U.S Royalty

Feeling Good by Michael Bubble

Apache by The Ruse

Can’t Stop by The Ruse

Take A Walk by Passion Pit

Do I Wanna Know by The Arctic Monkeys

The Funeral by Band of Horses

What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club

 

Filed under: Music Tagged: music

Human

Humanity is a very strange, strange phenomenon. It’s not a thing. It’s not an aspect. It’s a complex, unpredictable phenomenon in the true sense. A single human, when considered individually, is a great thing to see. But humanity, as a whole, now that’s something entirely different. A human, now what is that, you ask me. You can always look it up in a dictionary, in science and in whichever religion you believe or don’t believe in. Knowing this doesn’t necessarily require you to say, for instance, “I believe in God” or “I don’t believe in God”. Because this requires you and only you. Not a belief or a theory from some textbook or a pamphlet or something. When I think of the term human, the seemingly eternal aspects of existence come to my mind. Because you see, humanity IS eternal. Yes, we all are going to die one day, this world and everything in it will be reduced to dust and ashes. What will stay,then, you wonder. But in that query of yours therein lies the answer itself. There are so many things we do and say. Many of them are yet to be explained. But whatever we do and say, a speck of it will always remain. Either somewhere with God because after all, to Him we all return to. Or either it will simply float in some space we don’t know of yet. Why? Because humanity is the ultimate resilience. It will never just completely “fade away” and be reduced to “nothingness”. It’s a complex web, this “humanity”. We are infants. Then we are teens and then adults and then finally, we are old. It’s Time, they tell us. Age and Time. What an overly ridiculous and simple thing they reduce us to, “age” and time”. Of course, there is always more than what we perceive. We humans, we are very unpredictable. It is not known what we might do or say. So why, then, do we just explain this phenomenon simply as “age” and “time”? Humanity is both beautiful and hideous. It is a miracle and a curse. It is blind and it is wise. It is silent and it is loud. But it is humanity and it is a wonderful phenomenon. We are not just clay vessels with mere blood and bones embedded in it. We feel, love, hate, think, hope, dream, imagine, create, discover, fail, succeed, wonder, hear, speak, see, touch, taste, laugh, cry, hug, write…the list goes on, right? You watch a movie and that rush of emotions that bubble within you; a song you hear that brings tears to your eyes or a laugh or a smile on your face or a simple thought or idea in your mind; things we say sometimes to others that make them love or hate us; dreams we spend our entire lives fulfilling; ideas we strive to make happen; places we visit and things we experience there and people we discover there; foods we eat that spark tastes in our mouth that make us feel alive and well; the air we breathe which, as it courses down our nose into our lungs, reminds us we are awake and aware; the silence we sometimes like to rest in; those flowers we pluck from gardens or buy from a humble flower shop to give to our loved and dear ones and then seeing the corners of their mouth turn up into a smile or that warm and nice feeling you get as they hug you and thank you from a deed so simple you did for them; the dark aroma of chocolate in your house as you bake cakes and share them with your family; the sound of classical music drifting and seeping in through your mind which makes you feel as if you are floating in air, without any worries; moments spent lying in someone else’s arms, talking about life and all it brought to you; crying alone in the dark so that no one sees you and thinks you are “weak”; learning but sometimes also ignoring lessons formed from your mistakes; hurting and healing; having your heart-broken; having difficult decisions to make; bills to pay; family to provide for; repair little house hold items and fretting over how much it costs and whether you will be able to put some food in your and your children’s bellies that night; hearing news and becoming worried at the horrible things happening around you and thinking “am I safe?” and “will my family be safe?”; running away from your loved ones due to a simple misunderstanding; ignoring what others might say if you shaved off your hair or died your hair yellow; killing innocents; blaming someone else for your crimes and mistakes; making friends; having someone in your life who understands you yet never judges; the very basic psychology that shapes our character and personality; things we fear; our desires and that feeling you experience at them being fulfilled; it goes on. Now you tell me, how is this, then, anything BUT a phenomenon? It is not something science will ever fully be able to explain because…well…it just does not have all the answers. That is when you have to turn to yourself. And right now, if you are reading this, in this time and space and breath, know that you are alive. Your are here. You have a heart which is beating, a brain that is making you read and comprehend these very words and giving rise to whichever emotions you are having right now. You are you, no matter what that is. But it is still you. And what are you? What am I? What are we? We are humans. I am human. You are human.

And that is something wonderful.

So never think that you are worthless, that you are full of crap, that you do not “belong” anywhere, that you will never matter to anyone, that your life is meaningless and that you’ll never be found. Because humanity is everything BUT this. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, if that day has not already come for you yet, you WILL be worthy, you will be full of something great, you will belong, you will matter, you will mean something and you will be found.

Because no matter what that day will be, when and how it will come…you will STILL be what you are today, in the here and now.

You will still be human.

Filed under: Amateur, Human Nature, Life, Optimism, Teen Stuff Tagged: amateur, human nature, humanity, life, love, random, self-respect, teen life