Flowers in Tombs

My therapist told me that when I get anxiety and urges to self harm; that I should start writing. So last night, I did. (If you have trigger points, related to self harm, do not read further.) 

 

I’m a disease. An epidemic. And I’m gonna spread like I always do until everyone I love is the same broken worthless piece of shit as me. Until they also become dysfunctional.
The worst part about me is that I look like a wonderful human being but all that is a lie, a cover up to make people fall for this act of innocence and purity. And when they start to love me, oh boy. I start releasing my venom slowly into their veins until the began to need me and become paralysed. Then I heal them and act like I am an angel.
I’m a disease. An epidemic. I go around pretending I have a disease and I take medicines for it but that is not true. It’s all me.
And that is why I deserve these scratches on my arm. Heck I deserve them everywhere. I deserve blood coming out of my broken skin cause I am a seemingly beautiful mess that deceives nice people.
Why am I even asking for help and letting them know about this? Now that they have started to realize how full of shit I am and have begun to try and care for themselves away from me because they really can’t do it near me because I ruin it. Why now? I should stop. 11 times or 121; why should anyone know? Why not cut them all off and run away? Once and for all? Just me and my demons dancing together in perfect harmony cause we belong in each other’s arms.
It’s better than slowly being hated and hated and hated and hated and hated until one day they just say it out loud that I don’t deserve anything from them. It’s better to say it to myself beforehand. It’s better to leave everyone beforehand. Before I hurt them. Before I burn them. Before I make them bleed like they made me.

Damn, that felt good. I would say I’m sorry for making you read that but I’m really not. I wanted to show you what anxiety and depression look like and I was in it when it was the only reality I could see so I don’t want to apologise.
Now, to the “beautiful saviors” themselves, the mental illnesses.

First of all, fuck you.
I would say I hate you
but you’ve lived inside of me
For more years than I can count
And I don’t want to accidentally say I hate myself.

Come on, you already made me do that
nine thousand and two times
(not counting accidents).

You say you’re here to protect me from all the abhorrent people
but they seem to me, to be
the ones who birthed you within me
And now you want me to be the surrogate carrier?

I’m sorry but I don’t love you that way
Or them, for that matter.
You’re not here to save me
from anyone but myself.
And I’m the only good thing I know
So no.
Thanks.

I don’t want to be safe from my best friend,
Or my mom
Or even the boy who left,
These are my loves.
You can’t twist them and break me
and take them away.

You’re a perpetrator

A trespasser.
I know I fell for your tricks
and that should make me less than you
but fuck you
I am strong as hell.

And you can watch me someday,
spreading all the love I have in me,
today. And so can they.

For my heart will forever be open
Even if it’s scared to fall in love again
Even when it can’t trust people
or want to make my own bed
or eat
or sleep
or pray to my Allah.

You won the battle last night,
and I am going to have to carry these scars on my arms
as proofs, forever.
but fuck you
I’m winning the war.

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Threads #33

​There are some people we meet that are destined to make us failures. They’re part of our losses and pains.

But you? You’re part of my win. And I don’t mind if it takes me my whole life to get to that win, I will get there. Because when the universe does us favours, we don’t give them up. We don’t let go.

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“TRANSCENDENCE”

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Image source

“TRANSCENDENCE”

Strange faces in an even stranger town!
You pull up your cloak to conceal your crown
This place is no shelter for people of wonder
If ever, they existed, they were pushed down under

How long have you lived in a land unknown?
Do you dream of stars, or do you call it home?
Do you hide your light to fit in to the dark
That surrounded you always, with only hints of sparks

But do you not know that it is your scintillation,
That has kept you pure amidst abominations?
Don’t you know this silent rebellion of yours,
Has kept the wounded from bleeding any more?

I am no angel but a chaser of light
Sometimes it withers, sometimes it is bright!
I am friends with your monsters, and you are with mine
And we shall transcend together to a land divine. 

“THE LEARNED MAN AND THE TREE”(DANCES WITH INSOMNIA #4)

THE LEARNED MAN

The becoming of the learned man is much like the growing of a tree.

For, as the soil has to be, before anything else, disturbed and dug up from all directions, so must he challenge his heart and destroy his ego, up until the point when he is empty and penetrable- his soul as hungry for his blossoming, as the soil from which the tree is to grow.

And then as the soil captures the seeds eagerly, so must his thirst be for gaining knowledge. Seed after seed, he should plant in his soul with no pride whatsoever over the knowledge he gains; for he knows that there are endless new seeds that could fall into his soil and endless words of wisdom that others have that he does not.

And as the signs of growth begin to appear outward, and he starts to become acknowledged for the wisdom he is gaining, by others and by his own self; he should take good care in keeping the pests of arrogance and impatience away from his plant. Because his only job that he has power over, is the watering of the plant; and that is the manifestation of his seeds. Much like how his knowledge is now to be used practically and his growth aided by good deeds. He is to now put others before himself and minimize his own needs and desires.

He should remember that he has no control over how much his plant grows and so he should never take measures of it. For the growth and measurement is the work of God, and every minute he stops to measure, is a minute gone without watering. And if he were to find that it is growing well, he would be captured by arrogance, and if he were to find that it has grown less than he hoped, he would become impatient and ungrateful; either way it will be his folly to forget that God tests you by giving, and God tests you by taking away and He alone knows how much you will outwardly blossom. So when you start quantifying the good that comes out of you, you interfere in God’s work and forget your own, thus ending up with nothing.

And then as his soul reaches the point at which he can give fruit, he should bow down and hang low his branches and humbly offer his fruit to the world. This fruit contains seeds for other plants of his sort to grow around him, but in a form that is more evolved than the seeds he had in his time of growth; for it is his own primitive knowledge but with the addition of his personal evolutionary adaptations that he went through in order to survive. Much like the fruit of the tree that withstood the harsh climate by adapting to it, and its seeds carry that forward; so shall the knowledge and wisdom he now gives to others be.

And remember that the tree never discriminates between people that come to it for fruit and shelter; so the learned man shall never turn away anyone who comes to him for aid. And the tree doesn’t withdraw its shelter from those who appear evil, it just shadows; so shall the learned man treat the supposed outlaws, the hopeless men that the world has rejected and sent away to rot. For as the evil man eats from the tree’s fruit, and sits in its shelter, his soul too, might blossom into a beautiful tree, and the once barren land shall be turned to green.

And what more shall you ask about the learned man, but this: He never stops looking for more knowledge and better seeds, even when he reaches the position to start giving fruit to others and spreading his knowledge, his roots reach deeper into the soil and stronger, searching far and wide with as much humility as the first time he came to learn. Searching for more and more and more wisdom and never letting pride touch him, because he knows that at any moment Allah commands “KUN” (BE!); “FAYAKUN” (AND IT IS). So as he gives fruit, he plants more seeds, and as the fruit is eaten he waters his new knowledge, and as his fruit grows, he digs up the soil again to renew himself.