The Other Side of Sanity

From Abu Hurairah, who related that the Prophet PBUH said,

"Believers who are strong (in the eyes) of Allah and are more loved (by Him) than believers who are weak, it being understood that there is goodness (faith) in everyone. So, you should diligently seek to that which benefits you and seek the help of Allah and do not be hesitant or lazy;

And, if you are smitten with something, do not say- if I do such and such, such and such will come about, but say, Allah has written and what has been willed by His Wisdom, He will put into effect;

for the word 'if' opens the door to the persuasions of Satan."

When faith wavers, it's easy to lose hope. Reaffirming my focus gets hard to do. My imagination runs into overdrive, spinning out of control, like a car on wet tarmac. Different circumstances are conjured up in my mind, suffocating me like a thick blanket of smoke. Hope becomes a foreign word, as if it never existed in the first place. The people around me start whispering vile insidious things, plaguing me with doubt. It becomes a very dark and unfriendly environment all too soon. Fights break out. Shouting matches that last for hours on end. The tears that are shed afterwards.

Leave me alone! Do me a favour and shut up while you're at it.
Assuming things isn't going to make things better. Over-analyzing just adds agony to an otherwise mild situation. It's best if we just kept an open mind about it all. I know being optimistic is not exactly one of your more stronger points, but just bear with me. There's nothing wrong with anything. The only thing that's wrong is you, spreading like a dark cloud to ruin a sunny day. I hate that. And I most definitely hate you when you're in "storm cloud mode".
No matter what you say or think or do, you'll be proven wrong in the end. He has never been cruel to me and I dare say that He certainly isn't going to start now. He's always had my back, I was the ungrateful one who turned away. I've realised my mistake and I'm hellbent on not repeating it.
What I want, I will get. All I have to do is ask.

Weakling, I Am.

I don't know why I even bother. It's always the same. It's like we have our private repeat button. A quarter of a step forward then a zillion more to the back. And then I have to retreat into my little dark corner to lick my wounds. But before I start licking them clean, salt is rubbed in deep.
 You're just plain bad news. The words 'STAY AWAY' is written all over you but for some damn reason,  I don't seem to comprehend the meaning those words are trying to convey. The moment you smile, I immediately go weak in the knees. Yes, literally. And as if on queue, all the other systems in my body shut down, one after the other. All my 'iron' resolve then vaporizes into thin air and I'm back right where you left me, useless and stupid.
Yep, you have that kind of power over me. Pesky insignificant little you. God, I hate you! And I hate myself for being so easily persuaded by your idiocy. I was never this pathetic little human being prior to meeting you. But thats what I have been reduced to since knowing you. I walked with an air of arrogance and was so sure of everything, especially what it is that I wanted. But I guess arrogance is not a good trait to possess. So back to earth I was sent.
I have a confession to make. Everything before 'us' was fun. When you asked me that bloody moronic question, I had a good mind to say no in your face. But you looked like a vulnerable little puppy who desperately needed a home. So I took you in. Yes, I did it out of pity. The following two days was spent beating myself up for accepting something I didn't want. On the third day, I knew I couldn't make it without you.

I am an idiot.

We went our seperate ways and I cried almost every night. Then there was a relapse period where I tried to convince myself that nothing was going to be written in the next chapter of the book. And it worked. Almost. But there were sessions in the shower, in the room, anywhere that people wouldn't see or hear me crying over something so trivial. To me, that was good progress. Very good, in fact, because it occured only once in a while, not on a damned 24-hour cycle.
So much for progress, right? Seeing you again the other day set me off. Now every single thing reminds me of you. Sometimes it makes me smile like a lunatic for no reason but most of the time it pushes me to the brink of insanity.

It seems like peace is the only thing I'll never know.
Bloody well said.

The LOL Factor

Yeah. Precisely.

My Little Bubble of Happiness

I smiled for a whole 48 hours after seeing you the other day. I wish we could start over. Even if it's from square one. We keep talking about it but never once tried to implement it. I'd like to say hi and ask you about your day. Having a civilized conversation would be too much to ask for so I'll settle for a few words.

We never ended, we're just beginning.

Disease

Feels like you made a mistake
You made somebody's heart break
But now I have to let you go
I have to let you go

You left a stain
On every one of my good days
But I'm stronger than you know
I have to let you go

No one's ever turned you over
No one's tried to ever let you down
Beautiful girl, bless your heart

I got a disease
Deep inside me
Makes me feel uneasy, baby
I can't live without you
Tell me
What am I supposed to do about it
Keep your distance from it
Don't pay no attention to me
I got a disease

Feels like you're making a mess
You're hell on wheels in a black dress
You drove me to the fire
And left me there to burn

Every little thing you do is tragic
All my life
Oh, was magic
Beautiful girl, I can't breathe

I think that I'm sick
But leave me be while my world is coming down on me
You taste like honey, honey
Tell me can I be your honey
Be, be strong
Keep telling myself that it won't take long 'til
I'm free of my disease

Yeah, well free of my disease
Free of my disease

The Sick House

How many pockets deflate to satisfy the number of digits etched on those pieces of paper the authorities dub bills? How many hearts break at the sight of relatives and other loved ones laying helpless and pale on the white sheets of hospital beds? How many tears are shed when the doctor comes in the room to announce the time of death of a patient?
I hate hospitals. Everytime I'm instructed to pay a visit to a sick person, I'm leadened with dread. So many people I hold close to my heart have been lost within the sterilized walls of a medical institution. In more ways than one do I hold grudge against the pastel-painted buildings that strive to make things better for everyone around. Patients to be cured, families to be made smiling and carefree again.
How is one expected to react upon seeing a person rendered incapable of tending to his own needs, relying instead on others who don't even give a damn wether the he lives to see another day or even make it through this one? Then there's the infamous hospital food. The stale aroma wafting through the endless monotony of corridors is enough for me to collapse in a fit of unbridled tears. It's no wonder that sometimes you see patients getting worse after spending a certain amount of time on a hospital-food diet. When my mother told me she knew someone who deliberately found excuses to admit herself into a govenment (yes, you read right: GOVERNMENT!!) hospital, my first reaction was, "Do mine ears deceiveth me?" Seriously. And my smart retort just died on my tongue.
My recollection of being personally admitted actually falls under the category labelled "Good Memories". Comfy bed, awesome TV channels.. Food rating would be a solid 6 out of 10. Yeah, I know what I said about the my mom's friend and my stillborn comeback. Well hold on just a minute there. It was a private hospital. Yes, the one that you have to pay through your nose for an overnight admission. Yep, that one precisely. Nuff said.
But anyway, enough about food. The sight I laid eyes upon in the Paedeatrics Ward this very afternoon would be one I'd like to forget in a hurry. Picture this: a child, merely 13 months and barely able to string two words together to form a sentence, lying down with both legs held upwards and tied to a metal contraption so that she wouldn't stress out her broken thigh bone. I ask you, abuse or neglect? Bear in mind that it takes a tremendous impact to result in a fracture of that bone. If I were the mother of that child, I'd make sure the babysitter never gets another paycheck as long as she's in the same zipcode as my daugther.

Swing, swing

I'm finally over you. Yeah, I know. I'm so freaking proud of myself. It took me a whole year but I finally pulled through. No more crying myself to sleep or suddenly being overwhelmed by an unwanted bout of depression. Freedom tastes good. I haven't felt like this in a long time and I miss it. A LOT.
New sights. New sounds. New faces. And old ones. New feelings. New misgivings. New-found completeness but not quite.Yet.
And then there's you. No, not you. You. Yeah, YOU.
You made me smile again. You play along with all my stupid jokes. You tell me things. You're mortal. Real. A breathing, flesh-bound living thing. And that's bloody awesome, I appreciate it.
Of all the things we talked about over these past few months, I forgot to tell you some things.

I like you.

I want to get to know you better. 

I want us to be more than friends.

But I'm scared. Freaking scared. No more silence. It'll kill me. A murder most brutal.
Make a move. Waiting is pure torture.