Shielded

I finally managed to squeeze a little (temporary) corner for myself. I unpacked the last box from the move only yesterday. I had to make room for my creativity / mind, I was losing it... Today I must tackle the work station, I'm dying to get making and doing again. I don't know how I can turn things into money anymore, but I have a feeling the good old flow of the olden days will come back to me once I start applying myself this time around. Very little space and it's messing with my mind, but I can do this, I know. Gotta beat them voices of failure and despair. I got shit under control, one step at a time, one task at a time, one day at a time. 

 انا مع الله ان الله معي

Lentils soup

I ought to have lost my mind, but I keep holding unto something. Something is keeping me going, I'm not sure what it is. I keep losing hope, faith keeps bringing it back. It's just too much to be here, witnessing all there is to see. Yes, I was prepared, but I am so very tired. I keep ascending, I'm both here and gone...

The beginning has long happened, we're not in the start of the ending, we're in the middle of it, I just didn't notice. Things are escalating fast. 

There's no room for wallowing and self pity, but the avatar keeps pushing me down. 

Apathy is king, nothing to be taken personal, it is what it is... 

There wasn't much for the day but processing the news and the new faces, bodies, and revelations. 

But then I had to cook my meal of the day. It's OK if it's late, it's OK if lentils is all there was, it's OK if I needed to feed a whole lot of people for my own nurturing, it's OK to think of all those whom I gave my special lentils soup treatment, it's OK to miss her, it's OK to eat alone after midnight. 

We got to keep going, 

Level up now. 

Also, please, please, send help!

Hello?

There's nothing wrong with the faulty world. I'm just heart broken, and in shock.

What do the words do at this stage? Nothing at all.

I'm on my own inside my head and soul, ready to abort this life mission any time the chance arises. 

I'll welcome any departure opportunity. It isn't a coincidence I've been moving my whole entire life. I'm ready to uproot and go home any moment, all the time. 

Except we're entrapped in this delusion of existence. I exist simultaneously here and there. 

Any sign of Home in the eyes of the lost ones gives me a little false hope. Beggers can't be choosers, I'll take anything, just you show me presence. 

Pretty please. 

I'm 

so

very 

tired! 

Erratic

I was finally out of the house yesterday for the first time in three weeks since the move. I feared for my mind, body definitely needed the walk too. I did my good old routine of grocery shopping from the close by supermarket. I looked up all the changes, staff, faces, the street, shops, gone and new...

I was overcome with a flood of emotions before I left. My heart and mind have been occupied processing way too many memories, and worrying about the future. I had to slow things down, to come back to the present moment, try to make any sense of it. Nothing made sense, but I focused on the small things. Grocery shopping does it every time. It's necessary, it's time consuming, it's distractive, it gets the body going and the senses active. Also, needless to say, I was in the heart of the city now, the hussle ans bustle is the reason why I'm here again. I wish to lose myself in the traffic, take my mind away from my own chaos. 

I went to the Indian shops, got myself some of the usual, ripe mangoes, incense, and black seeds. Checked the new / old shops there too. Many prostitutes running wild, it wasn't even 8:00 yet.

All changes duly noted, headed back home, new neighbours too. They don't know me, I don't know them. Still, the small talk and casual chats between all whom I encountered was heartwarming. I needed exactly that. 

Sister texts me when I was coming up, dropping shopping bags, then going out again, asking if I'd like to eat with them. Them being her and my own daughter. She has her now, she always wanted to have what's mine. I politely declined. I have never wanted to be left alone by the so called family and friends more so than now. I need to stop the bleeding...

The writing isn't flowing, I'm struggling still with the downsizing, my mind is erratic, and overwhelmed with the objects around me. I didn't realize just how much accustomed I have become to sleeping in an empty room. I miss the space for sure, but these aren't the times for wallowing.

I'll give my system more time, I will get my peace again, a little bit closer every new day, with the help of the weather changing too in due time. 

I need to get back to my workbench too, which I know would have an immediate calming effect and a system reboot.

Very soon hopefully, I left work till last. 

I'll be then home, truly. 

In between

I am counting the days till we meet in person, I have a strong feeling about you, like you do about me. But I'm not just merely swept away, I am grieving still and licking my wounds, and got so much on my plate. Most of my days are spent trying to put the new place in order, contain my mind, control my thoughts. I'm growing a new skin, and I'm very sensitive and fragile as it stands. Still, somehow, and dispute all, I seem to like my exposure to you. When you looked back at me on the screen last night after addressing your friend and found me giggling, I was actually melting a little. That new angle from which I could see your face and eyes when you turned gave me a new insight to you, a different aspect of you, and the more to cherish and admire. Your eyes couldn't look more pure. Your face gestures, your voice and words, so clear and direct. Although I couldn't decipher the Italian, I could almost make sense of what you were saying from your demeanor. A smile forced itself unto my face, turned into a grin, then a giggle. I wasn't laughing, but I couldn't tell you the whole story when you asked. I have decided to refrain from giving you compliments, I've seen what it does to you. I'm honoring our deal you see, let's indeed do the odd thing, and turn this beautiful connection into a genuine friendship, which we both very much need. Your pain has touched me, the simple and little words you speak about your daughter and your personal struggle hits home.

I see you, 

"honest" one.

Home, unfurling...

August charm

August man, you charmed me differently. Mixed race, and a mixed face. Your eyes, they tell oh so many stories. Such protection, and what guardianship you keep over them! They charm even in their continuous squinting state. And that most saddest, most gracious smile... does things to the soul. You've touched me, I'm moved by your mere existence. Your voice and demeanor, your words, and your silences... There's endearment in your face and grace, and grace in the very space you take. It touched my inner wounds and I cracked a little. I am sorry for having moved you the same way, I don't mean for those encounters to have so much meaning, but occasionally, they do. Your pain and mine united for brief moments, and then there were comforting words, pleasant thoughts, and plenty more silences. I loved you in those. What Uncanny familiarity! There's mystery too, so many tales revealed through the pauses, and so much hidden within the words. We are indeed crazy, each in our own unique way, but we met on common grounds. A small world indeed. 

I wish you well, 

and I'm kept hungry for more... 

Emotional slip

I allow myself to miss you only on Sundays, sometimes. There are scribbles on the walls here and there, that's just so typical of you, nothing I didn't expect. I wonder sometimes about the mental agony you could be going through. I don't miss the everlasting chasing, and my continuous futile attempt to please you, uplift you, get you out of your mental rot, or explain it all to you time and again, this perceptional imprisonment you're at. I couldn't think of anything more tiring than decades of that. Two quarters of my lifetime are gone and done with, now I start the third quarter. Without you because you chose everything else over me, and I'm fine with that for now. Let's see how far I can go now without the weights and the pulling down. But I miss you, sometimes, on Sundays, sometimes.

I see you in your growing up phases in front me, this corner and that space, these memories and those other ones. Always chasing and trying to satisfy you. Make up for the madness that is this most messed up existence. It wasn't my fault, nothing was of my doing, but I loved you. 

I still do, obviously, and I miss you, sometimes, but mostly today, for it's Sunday. 

I hope you're going to outsmart me with all the tools you have now, and break them those damned generational patterns, from both sides. Don't play the game, don't play games, quit it already, won't you please!

Oh don't mind me, I'm just blabbering again. 

I've decided to allow myself to feel you, on Sundays, sometimes. 

You're still deep within me, but I'm learning to release you, a little bit more every new day. 

On Sundays too, sometimes. 

I hope you're in a good shape baby girl. 

Truly now, 

my darling baby.

A city bubble

A full week in, I haven't yet managed to get my journals. My netbook, my Incense, my little things and my tools for work, are totally out of reach still. So many boxes to unpack, very little space to work with, and a lot of damage in the place to fix.

To think that I grew a family in this little space, and a business! It will take me some time to adjust... My mind is suffering again, but mostly from having workers in every single day since the move. I haven't foreseen the urgent maintenance due. Also, my senses are so overwhelmed; too much light, too much noise, too many smells.

Still, I'm grateful. 

I made it, despite all odds. 

I just need to make myself at home now. 

I need my art, 

I need art, 

and the bubble.