Outside My Plain Old Door!

Life so carelessly continues outside my plain, old, wooden door,

It seems like I have been locked up in here longer than time!
The voices of those on the other side haunt me; too loud to ignore,
And the memory train follows me with thoughts not so sublime!

I have been down this road before, yet every time the pain is in a unique form,
The way my heart aches change: worn, broken, battered and sometimes torn!
It's like a summer with an infinite scorching sun, a winter with an endless storm,
Just like an infant who was never really made, conceived, or was actually born!

Decisions need to be made but my head feels light; bordering insanity,
Losing control of the steering wheel; can't see ahead, can't see the sides!
Running away from nothing and everything; fighting for my humanity,
Dipping into the shallow ends of the sea yet unable to survive the tides!

If I was a red rose; I'd be brown and wilted with burdens by now,
Yet somehow I manage to seem as if everything is just alright!
I take the slaps to my face, I take the blows and survive them somehow,
I tremble and fall and get up again trying to make it to the light!

Yet the light gets dimmer, the battery seems to be running out,
The tunnel seems to be getting longer and the car is low on gas!
I have so much but I lack what I can never do without,
And you expect me to believe that: "This too shall pass"?

The Illusion of Happiness

Human beings are the masters of orchestrating illusions and believing them!

On an autumn's morning, I get up and breathe in,
Lying to myself that the breaths which follow will be pure...
I push a smile on a tired face with no roots from within,
Another pre-broken promise to my soul that this pain I can endure!

On an autumn's morning, I carry a book and read,
Lying to myself that the words I read will elevate my misery...
I push away a negative thought yet a 100 others breed,
Another desperate attempt to herd away the painful imagery!

On an autumn's morning, I try to make sense of it all,
Lying to myself that the sense might make sense to me...
I push away regret and it comes bouncing back like a ball,
Another fake hope that it could, maybe, hopefully, set me free!

On an autumn's morning, I finally realize my illusions:
Things will never change; accept them the way they are...
I push away the pretenses and the million confusions:
Hope is fake, attempts are desperate and happiness is far!

Caution: Road Bump Ahead!

To someone who claims to have reached maturity at almost all levels, it seems to be rather juvenile to view the world in a multi-layered color scheme or to imagine that, with all the possible variable available, things will eventually turn out to be for my best interest.

Yet, I do!

Whether it be an insignificant action that causes a big problem and greater manifestations that ever expected with a family member or just simple unfulfilled expectations, which you promised yourself never to set, it feels as though we are constantly swimming upstream!

What I can't really grasp is the concept of "perfection", which seems to be the new trending topic of my days and what everyone is seeking to find in others while the truth of the matter remains to be: No one is perfect, no one can be perfect, and that is that!

Regardless of the efforts we invest in building ourselves to be strong, independent, well-rounded, caring intellectual givers, at the end of the day, when push comes to shove, we are who we are: Mortal fragile human beings made of flesh, blood, emotions, contradictions and in some cases, a whole lot of pain that we need time as well as support to digest!

Sometimes, I wish...

Clumsily, I do sometimes wish that in life, people would have been more cautious and aware of their behaviors, which ended up causing me indescribable pain and disappointments. I wish I was a clean white slate with no aching past to get over, no haunted present to live and no sealed future to fear...

But that can never be, and I am mature enough to realize that...

What worries me though, is the duration it will take me to be "me" once again and the slight chance that that could actually happen...

And then again, the questions that arise are:

Do I really want to be "me" again? Is "me" good enough? Is "me" able to overcome the many road pumps in my coming past and fix the damages done due to the past bumps I have passed?

Maybe, maybe not...

All I am certain of now is that I'm shattered in a million directions like shreds of a bullet which exploded and landed everywhere yet nowhere in specific...

I surrender now to my weakness, if only for a few minutes, and allow my tears to gently run over the paths of my tired face...

Beirut