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Bed time story for adults

Alone in bed at night, you stare at the ceiling, one breath in, but it stops half way through and it erupts into a muted sigh. Your heart beat is heavy so is your world. You need to close your eyes, sleep is the most important action right now. Except you know, that wont happen, your mind is too anxious, so many thoughts, events and roles underplayed during the day. You should have done more, you should have said something, you should have acted.

It is silly really, all the thoughts, words pushing and elbowing each other in order to make it to the finish line, topped by a long banner with the word TRUTH inscribed. But in that race, truth is not the finish line that your thoughts are racing for. The finish line is a bed time story you tell yourself about the life your are leading. And we all know baby, bed time stories are only stories after all; and nothing in them is real.

See, the fear of waking up feeling unaccomplished and miserable comes from a deep consciousness that you keep muffling after every chapter in your bed time story. Not doing what you really want, going to a job you hate, marrying the wrong person for the wrong reasons, staying in an abusive relationship, accepting unfairness in your daily life in every form, all will pile up with time, especially if you always have that quiet little voice saying “I really don’t want this“.  And when that pile becomes too large, no amount of stories will be able to hold it. The pile will become too real, your life will become too real, too late. 

Resolutions for the new year are almost always broken, not because people don’t want the change, but because people are too afraid of it, and are too lazy for reality, and would rather go back to their bed time stories by February. Waking up once and for all is exhausting if you are so used to snoozing that alarm. So you snooze 2017, and you might snooze 2018, and live your life on snooze, bored and missing out on the day, and unable to sleep at night.

How wonderful would it be if you could place your head on your pillow tonight knowing that you did one thing right, one thing that did not have you thinking “I really don’t want this“? How would you feel if you woke up in the morning with an anticipation for the day, where the traffic will not bother you enough to ruin your day, nor will a few hiccups along the way? How would it feel to live your life slowly, where when people complain, you say you are grateful for the things that you have, and work on the negatives?

Nobody will change your life for you. So get to it.

 

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The Sun

I am without myself almost every day. I walk towards and away from this, all at once. My steps are noise blanketing the quietness of a harmless emptiness I carry everywhere. Still and firm, faith washes ashore my disbelieving skin. I am impossible to water; my thirst is yet to be quenched.
Music to my vulnerable ears eases in and finds solace in a hollow corner I sometimes mistake for a soul. And in that corner, love grows it becomes humiliatingly filling.
I find myself awake at hours of the night unmistakably silent and anticipating. I find pieces of myself stranded in the dark and I rarely reach out and grab them anymore. The pursuit of definition as I have come to believe, is a sterile one. I am without myself after all.
My mindfulness is as elusive as my sleep. Come night time and an overwhelming dosage of anxiety rests it’s head on my chest. I am left weighed down by nothing and everything to ever exist. So I press my head deeper into the pillow and I drown myself in infinite thought. My breath softens and my words lose courage every time I come up for clarity. What does one do with finite nights and infinite possibility? How does one choose a single path, one life to account for an unbiased immeasurable existence? In that matter, there is one finite answer: I do not know.
I trust so little the aptitude of humans. I find it unconventional to stick to one belief every day. I shiver facing an ironic reality that change is necessary and inevitable. Change in all it’s forms is as terrifying as it is magnificent. I love with every regenerating cell in me the continuity of change. But I loathe how things never remain the same.
Walking on a tight rope, I challenge myself to not expect anything to lean on. I choose everyday to lose faith in my surroundings and detach myself from the illusion of eternity. I live each day reminding myself that I myself am a walking breathing example of entropy.
But I am a hypocrite.
I leap at any hint of divinity. I am spellbound by beauty and it’s repetition across the ages. I savor moments as rare as they come as though I caught infinity while it wasn’t looking. I fall uncontrollably in love and I allow myself the pleasure of delusion.
From where I am, whether I fall or stand tall; there really is no difference. From where I am, I live in many worlds. In some I care, in others I don’t. The fault in my brain is mended in the form of a heart. Maybe a balance exists linking and pushing my worlds apart. I carry it all with me, and I lay still on my back. I am miles away alone flaring a single match in the dark.
Maybe when you see that, your universe will finally have its light.

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Little Princess

Goodnight little girl, at least for the night. Lay that trouble free head of yours on this cartoon pillow and lose yourself in dreams.
Sleep well little girl, at least for today. Pull that blanket up to your ears and hide from the dark because you can. Rest assured there is someone in the next room who will instantly scare your monsters away. There is no nightmare you can have that cannot be countered by a lullaby. There is no fear you might develop that cannot be hugged away. So let the comfort of home untangle your hair and clear your skin because after all little princess, that is what home is for.
See little girl one day you might suddenly find yourself at night. In a bed that is not your own, on a pillow made of stone; in a place that you’ll never call home. And during that night, you will slowly realize that your monsters are all around and your fears have no sound. As you cower into your own, a little princess scared of the dark will look out and see that she is alone. And that little girl, is when you make one of two choices.
Either run back home into a bed you have overgrown, or stay and chase your own monsters away. Whichever you choose, will forever define the next day.

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Under the word “Exquisite”

Flashes of emotion make their way through the numbness of a turned off brain. As i force the silence to drown out unbearable noise, an awkward sickness occupies my mind.
I feel and i hurt quietly as i hush every thought to sleep. It always takes time and i have nothing but time. I have time to fight myself and prevail every day. I have time to fight again and lose every night. I have time to repeat myself and sleep my days into weeks. I have time to fix myself over and over again but with no repair.
I have time and i have words. Words without sound, and words empty of shame. I have words unheard and misspelled into sentences that rhyme.
And so i stretch the time and i dwell beneath my words in hopes of never being found. An array of human-like traits as impersonal as the word “exquisite” become my qualities and my reputation. How can anybody be found under a word like “exquisite”? So subjective and so tainted.
The awkward sickness of an over abundance of time and unspoken words, complicates my talent for mechanical numbness and i dive into the vortex all over again.

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Home and Happy

Jet lag has me in a state of confusion as though i stepped from one world into another and the only things lost in the process were time and sleep.
The moment the plane landed, my heart went quiet with disbelief that home can feel this way.
I found today that love and happiness do converge into a vastness so fulfilling that anybody who comes across that collision feels it too. I had more strangers smile and talk to me today than i have in a long time.
I did not simply have a day today. I was an explorer and an achiever, i felt elated while i was touching the ground and i was humbled when i was up in the air. It is true: home is the destination and the purpose, it is the beginning and end. Today i am home and i am happy; so simple.

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No truth tonight

This place seems to be the only comfort zone i have left. Everything else is uprooted, destroyed, faded or broken. Nothing remains in the end of a really bad day but my words and my mediocre self expression skills. Nothing remains but a late night battle with well earned self loathing and canned aggression towards everything i stand for. Everything i preach in words and silver lined rythms is a product of my destroyed and mythical imagination.
I write and i put words together in attempts of comforting my long lost mind, in hope of regaining faith in the beauty i see every once in a while, In aims of distracting my damaged excuse of a dream. I dont know, i really never knew as much as i don’t know now. I almost lose touch with my senses, my cravings and my motives.
When my escape is my home, and my home has generated into the escape, my entire world is shifted, twisted and upside down; and no one complicates things as professionally as me. I am the master of labels and definitions, but when it comes to sorting out my own mess, i simply drive myself mad enough to an extent where i give myself material to write about. Instead of actually fixing what needs to be dealt with i submerge my coward self into a pit of mind draining logic, and heart wrenching drama. I end up with a pathetic justification of words and excuses, of emotions and thoughts that really do not make sense.
And so just because human ears and human compassion can only go so far, i decide to practice my linguistic, lyrical and passive sport of one ended conversations with this blank, dull page here.
No where, no one and nothing will ever comfort you when you are in need, at least not fully. When we break, no matter how eloquently we express it, we are broken. And nothing broken is as good as new, not in this world we live in. So whatever soothing and calming words you can offer yourself, do that, tell yourself that you are ok. Tell yourself that you are strong. Tell yourself that beauty is still waiting outside your window, except right now your vision is blurry and your mind is uncertain. Tell your self that the lack of comfort is the reason you are blind to any form of beauty tonight. Tell yourself that tomorrow is a new day, and the sun always shines, every day. Find comfort in the eternity of that process and draw the peace you need for sleep from the longing you feel for such certainty.
The sun will rise tomorrow, and so will you. All will heal when you allow yourself to say the few words you avoided by writing all that.
Not tonight.

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To run from peace

I woke up one night and i decided to leave. I did not speak, i did not listen, i forced the bravery out of me and i walked out. I gave up on the causes that chained me and i let go of faith. I left peace in bed and i took off with war. I betrayed ideals and i broke out.
The road ahead of me was so long, more than i had ever imagined it to be; almost endless. I started my car and i opened my eyes. Music played louder than my thoughts, and it woke up peace. Then as i went forward i could see peace through my rear view mirror banging at the that door i locked. It didnt break my heart, that is where it belonged. Peace lied to me, it slept with me and it cradled me when war was always at my door. Peace made everything quiet, it even showed me beauty. Peace began taking me one breath at a time and i let it. War always watched and it was so shameless.
Peace was a hypocrite and a fraud. It had so much to lose, it was a coward and it convinced me never to leave its side.
Today i leave peace, i break peace and i turn my back to it. I grab war by the neck and ask it to lead me to where all the truth lay. I scream at war and demand it tells me why it wanted me. Why has it always sat at my door, why it watched, why it left traces of doubt over my porch…i had so many questions.
As i drove, war would run along wanting to show me its world. And so i drove over bodies and ideas, i saw limits and they meant nothing. War was illeterate and blind. War only acted it never looked back. I drove and the road wouldnt end. People cursed war and i was surprised. I used to think big of it, but it turned out to be a humiliating friend. I had to watch my back and twitch with fear as war introduced me to its friends. Everything was blurry and truth lay nowhere but in red puddles. That was the only color i saw and it was repulsive.
War finally asked me to get out of my car to watch it dance. I had never seen war in daylight, and so as day broke, i watched disaster and destruction prevail. Every time war swayed i saw its real colors. Under the light war was ugly, it was deformed and stained with defeat, it had no arms or legs it creeped and lurked; there was nothing alluring about it and its stench was nauseating. It asked me to join but i couldnt, because suddenly i had so much to lose. Suddenly i missed peace and its beauty. I missed peace and how it looked at me, how it sang me to sleep and faded into hope every morning.
Except war wouldnt let me go, it pulled me in and i fell as all its friends joined. I had willingly left peace for this. For that horror and pain. For the puddles of truth stained in red. I left peace and i believed war would solve all my problems; except it didnt.
I wept as the very truth i was looking for slowly seeped out of me and to my surprise it was colored red. I knew what i had lost and i longed for the first time that peace would find me.