Monsters under the bed are friendlier than truth…

Advertisements

The Two Worlds.

Taimur wali

5307_676704805731453_7104347398579879974_n

Your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy..
Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, this is not important. What is important is that they are there. These worlds provide an alternative, provide an escape, provide a threat, provide a dream, provide refuge, and pain. They give your world meaning. They do not exist, and thus they are all that matters.

― Neil Gaiman, The Books of Magic

View original post

Er, excuse me mister vampire, could you please compel me?

I read my ‘About Page’ and i kind of wanted to change it, make it more real. So, i wrote a long page with new stuff and it went like this …

A self-labelled super hero, I am nothing but a loner, a dark and delusional human being with a good heart but unhappy soul. That’s me. Because i live in a world where you don’t get a pass to be you unless you are what others are. Normal by acceptable norms set by a world crazy in itself. I was funny once, even with the darkness inside, i was awesome once but now i’m too tired and exhausted to be that.

There was more to it and if had continued i would have probably said things i want to. Then i smiled, realized how sleep deprived i’m and needy for pity. So, i pressed backspace again and again and again.

Truth is, i had an okay day, not great, not bad but decent. For some part of it i was even smiling and chair dancing while working on my PC at Gotham. But now, i am alone and stripped of my super hero uniform.

Sometimes i wish the whole TVD compel thing was for real, i could use some compelling to forget things, truth and the ache that has become my skin.

If i could i would get myself compelled to be somebody i’m not. No biggie, im already living a lie i may as well live one i believe in too.

RIP Robin Williams…sorry, we couldnt save you….!!!!

Tuesday was a heavy day with something hurting inside so bad that I could hardly keep my face straight, all I wanted was to cry but with the job of being a Super Hero you don’t get to take off your mask not until you are back at home and all alone. Only Alfred gets to see Batman as Bruce Wayne and in my case no one because my Alfred was my dog who isn’t here. God I miss him.

So, I don’t know how to say this but news about Robin Williams kind of hit me hard and not because he was a great actor and I have seen his movies. It’s because of the cause of death. Suicide. Has always been a touchy subject for me, always. People who die because they are hurting are people who drowned because no one could save them.

He was the funny guy, who spent all his life joking and making hilarious faces to make others laugh and smile, while grieving inside all alone. Some people struggle silently and try to keep themselves floating but in the end they get drowned and nobody gets to save them. Why? Why can’t we save people who are in pain?

Why is sadness so colourless at times?

Why do we believe that someone who is smiling all the time isn’t capable of feeling pain? Why some people cant find voice for their inner struggle?

I don’t know why but when I hear about a suicide it kind of makes me sad in a bad way, like we failed a person. Suicide scares me because mental illness is for real, it’s not Santa Claus and not many people like to accept it. Some people might prefer to call it selfishness and cowardliness but when a person is so hurt that dying seems the only way out, he/she needs help not lecture.

Robin Williams had his demons and yes he died because he drowned in his darkness, but he would always be remembered for his act of spreading laughter and smiles. If only sadness had a colour or smell, if only mental illness came with big blinging sign boards that said “SOS”. Truth is not everyone gets to show the hurt and darkness, but it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

I know people were sad or surprised or shocked but i was hurt in a different way. For me the news was beyond a celebrity losing the battle of depression, for me it was loss of another person to the hardcore reality of sadness.

Pain, sometimes, has tendency of sticking to people in a way where it becomes a part of their existence.

 

Dear Brittany Murphy…!!!!

I don’t know what I want from life, I really don’t know. Because I can’t seem to break out of my bubble and accept life the way people do, the way it should be. I am hiding in layers of denial with every cell in my body hoping for a movie like miracle to stop the world from crashing down on me, even though I know that’s how the story would end. I would be bulldozed by reality.

Sometimes I miss writing diaries because that’s where I can actually be all pitiful and pathetic. Well, truth is writing diary only would make me more sad because I would open up for real and I have seen every time I have tried to open up I couldn’t shut up. I remember when I once had a moment of truth sharing with a friend, it felt so good because I spoke my heart out about things hidden inside punching me from inside so they could just carve a hole and get out of me. For first few days I was happy I found someone to talk to and then I realized there was this need to talk and talk and talk every day every second of every hour. I realized it wasn’t good. All I wanted was to talk about myself and my pain, I just couldn’t think about anything else or anyone else.

There is this thing about pain, you have to share it to a level where you can feel better but that’s it. Releasing the years of pressure accumulated inside fast and quick would drown you and the other person in it.

Why can’t I just give up and be the world wants me to be, normal and uncomplicated?

I have started reading “Love letters to the dead” and its quiet similar to “The Perks of being a Wallflower” which is good in a way. I love the latter one. If I had to write a letter to a dead celebrity, I think I would choose Brittany Murphy because of Uptown Girls and Girl Interrupted. Being someone who spends a lot of time with fiction shows and movies, I have this thing with the characters. I love them so much that I wish they were for real.

I could also write to George Mallory because man I need to know what happened to him. Amelia Earhart.

I have to go now, I need to read and then sleep.

The more you sleep and rest the better you fake smile. True Story.

Goodnight world!