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For those with different opinion lets just agree to disagree.
I recently read about some woman who, runs a hair saloon, posted on her Facebook that her Saloon would not take people from Islam religion. This was her reaction to Paris attack.
Just when I was trying to make sense of it, I found this article today. I wish I could read it and say what a moron neighbor, but all I could think was not 2 or 5 or 9 but 19 cops.
Fear has taken us all down the drain far away from sanity. We are scared of Muslims, Blacks, Browns, LGBT, Asians, Refugees; heck we are even scared of Straights and Whites.
Funny thing is each one of us of would cry racism while doing the same to the other. You might be a Muslim but you’ll hate Gays, you might be a Black but you’ll hate a Muslim. I know some brown people who cry racism but often end up calling names to those in living in East or making fun of LGBT.
No matter who you are, you’ll always find someone to hate and someone to blame.
And we want to find Aliens…!!!!
So we found water or at least some kind of solid proof of it presence on Mars. You know the 17 years old me, back in time, would have jumped and danced and even cried with happiness, but the 2015 me is just so worried about the repercussion of it.
What? What? What?
Well, finding water is really cool and awesome but we are “HUMANS” we believe in causing pain, destruction and every possible type of atrocities to those who wish to live in peace. We found water now we would move mountains to find life and then we would land there and effinly rule like we are ruling the sad little earth.
Step 1: Find Life
Step 2: Smile & Shake Hands
Step 3: Click a Dozen Selfies
Step 4: Punch in Face
Step 5: Ban Local Music, Religion, Culture and Put “We Mean No Harm” signs along with…
“Martians with brown or black color report to left, LGBT Martians apply to right, those belonging to following religions as listed below must restrict to certain rules and remember to smile and say WORLD PEACE for our media camera. “
When I read about a 16 year old girl being stabbed in a Pride Parade, I literally felt tears threatening me on a busy work day. All she did was be part of a peaceful pride parade celebrating the equality rights and one lunatic just walks in attacks innocent people. Shira Banki, who had all her life in front of her, lost her life because among us are people who refuse to understand that everyone deserves to live. I specially don’t get those who hurt others in name of religion because I ‘m pretty much sure God never created people for sake of hating and hurting.
3 years old Aylan, his brother and mom were not the only ones who died on that day or day before or day after. But he became the heart wrenching -rock solid proof of how war torn countries are tearing the basic fabric of humanity, causing pain by those throwing shells and mortars and by those who struggle to shelter the scared ones.
And today I read about a guy beaten to death in a small town for he was, according to rumors, having beef in a beef banned place. Well, so we the humans just killed him.
It never ends, the pain caused by us. It would never stop.
I just hope Martians would run away to another planet before we land, because we are incapable of harmony. Some of us at least are totally incapable of following ‘Live and Let Live’.
I have been so exhausted mentally lately that now everything gets on my nerves and I can’t seem to shake the stinging darkness of the world I’m living in. Sometimes I wonder if Happy Ending is really a thing, maybe it’s a myth.
Forgive me for I vent…
17 years old me: Dear God let there be life and water on Mars
30 Years old me: #LOL
Martians on Mars: BOP BEEP BOP BEEP BOP BOP BUPPP BOOOOPPPPP (Translation- Run effin Eartians found us. Dammit RUNNNNNN)
I think happiness is a myth, it’s more of a fashion style that people carry with them.
Is it really possible to be happy like so happy that it would hurt, but in a good way?
I don’t know why I’m asking. I have had a good evening yet I feel unsettled. A part of me is tired and knowing that tomorrow is another day of wearing a face, and walking out in the world, is only making me feel more exhausted.
Today I saw a man who wasn’t physically well and was begging for food or money. I stopped my car at the traffic lights and rolled down my window to give him a banana. He seemed happy, walked away, sat on the ground and used his good hand to eat.
Now , who am I to cry or crib about life when he would do anything to be me even lie and pretend like I do. I know there are hundreds of people who would happily wear a face everyday and live my life. Because I m well, healthy, have a job, some money, family, a home and I get to be the one rolling the window down instead of the one knocking on it.
But, does this mean my pain isn’t significant? Does this means it’s okay to cry alone and to fight the inevitable?
I know I have it good and I shouldn’t be the one to complain, but it still hurts everyday. Knowing that I have to fight a certain kind of sadness & fear every minute of everyday doesn’t help. I am thankful for the privileges but I still can’t stop hurting.
Does it make me a horrible person? To be ink blue all the time when I’m at the better side of the window.
It’s just the sadness is so heavy some days it gets too hard to carry it without swearing at the world and the people and the dried-down river of empathy around us.
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I did. I did. I got inked.
For past few weeks, I have been working towards this day. Convincing the family, convincing myself. So, finally it was time. Since Monday I was nervous, freaking out and kind of (SUPER) scared about today. But, I woke up with this thought that if I can walk into a tattoo parlor all by myself and get it over with, I could practically do anything else.
So, I did it. I drove to the Tattoo parlor, sat there and got what I always wanted…musical notes inked on my wrist. That’s another check on the bucket list.
While, I spent last few days breathing heavy and hard shifting from left to right with the anxiety I feel numb right now. Yes, I’m happy. No doubt. I finally have a story now, not that I don’t cause God knows I have a story but now I have a crazy and fun story. Like, guess what I did before I turned 30 kind of story. So yes, I’m happy and thrilled to have followed my heart. But, I don’t know why I’m not jumping. I should be, shouldn’t I?
It’s just that it didn’t feel any different. Not that getting a tattoo could ease the hurt but I thought it would feel different.
Though, I do feel proud of me. It feels like taking control of my life even if it’s for one day. Dude, a tattoo is no joke but I did it even when I had no one to sit there with me with a camera aimed at my am-cool-am-cool-oh-god-am-going-to-die face.
I’m so effin proud of facing my fears and fighting for what I wanted for so long. Truth is, I might not feel different about things in my head but I do feel brave. Cause I just got a Tat… and rumors are true.
Remember that day you sat there on your bed inking a tattoo on your wrist with a pen, because no way on earth could you ever get one for real.
So, don’t give up on dawn. Not yet.
If I could go back and meet the 5 year old me, I would just hug her and tell her nothing. Don’t want to scare a little girl by telling how painful being a grown up is.
I wish somebody would hug me right now and say nothing, not that I don’t want them to scare me it’s just that I’m pretty much aware of my worst case scenarios. A hug without words wouldn’t change nothing, but I still could use one for no reason.
At least kids have the luxury of having invisible friends, grown ups just have to end with a sad blog, a sad song and a comforting cup of coffee that would hurt later even more.
Just in a self-pity and I-hate-the-world mode…
Imagine ‘Two beds and a coffee machine’ being played in the background…
Another ditch in the road you keep moving, another stop sign you keep moving on…
I would like to believe somebody somewhere is singing a song for me, even though they don’t know me. Maybe a Brandi Carlile song ‘Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain’.
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I can picture my worst fears but what I cant picture is a world without music, because it’s the only thing protecting me from my worst fears…!!!!
Grey’s Anatomy s11E22, JJ dies and I went all weepy…So why was I crying? Because a fictional patient died? Because I’m a sensitive woman who cries over sad or happy scenes? Because I wanted to cry for days and I just did? I don’t know.
For past few days, I have been wondering about things. I get riled up at home, I hate being at Gotham and I am terrified of every ‘tomorrow’. All that awesome smouldering and smuggy aura that I try to carry at work is a lie I would live for as long as I’m alive. Forever. Because let’s be honest, no way in this life am I ever going to find dawn. frkn dawn is such an excuse to hold on to an invisible hope.
Day before yesterday, I woke up to a dream that was so beautiful. I was with a friend I miss and my little T-dog was there. It was like being in a world I left a long time ago. Sometimes I dream of Snowy like he never left and I wake up realizing how much I miss him. A friend of mine thinks, one of the reason I’m blue is because he left because everyone around me moves away to different places. True. Almost true. I’m the bluest of blue but not cause every friend I ever made moved away or because my dog died or because I’m an invisible suitcase with a story untold. I’m blue because I’m. That’s who I’m, that’s what I was meant to be a color, a word and a person who would spend rest of her day pretending to be awesome because like they say in Grey’s Anatomy
The carousel never stops moving
The fact that I want my birthday to come and go as quickly as a Sunday makes me sad. im a birthday person. I love a birthday, specially when its mine.
I want a miracle for my birthday, I want to stop being sad, lonely, narcissist, self absorbed, childish, immature, depressed and scared. Well it ain’t gonna happen, but that’s the beauty of a birthday you can dream of gifts and presents.
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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.