The dinner table

We all sit around the dinner table.
Some placid, some temperamental, some simply lost in thought.

Pessimism smirks at me, ”I told you so”, he spits arrogantly from across the table, peering over at the vulnerable.
Anxiety fidgets at the edge of her seat as she agrees, ”I knew it, he’s always right”. Slowly she slips away into a trance of destructive overthinking and self blame.
Anger’s eyes pierce through me, his silence dangerous.
I sink into my seat as sadness continues to gnaw away at me.
Hope gently places her warm, wrinkled hand on mine as she leans in beside me, ”You did your best beloved”.
Anger and Pessimism erupt into laughter, Anxiety frantically shakes her head ”No you didn’t!”.
Love stares blankly at the plate in front of her, reminiscing on the endless endearments she whispered and fond kisses she gifted generously. She turns to give me a faint smile to reassure me.
Depression quietly picks at her plate, slouched in her chair at the end of the table. Terrified at the sight of her I turn away.

That’s enough for tonight.
I blow out the candle and call it a night.

– S.Alaa

Advertisements

Whore

I opened my legs for disrespect to slither inbetween them.
I laid on a bed that wasn’t my own, to be spoken to like I have no home.
I gave away my most precious gift to give a man a sense of possession.
But all this did was teach me a lesson; I am a whore, I am a whore.
No matter what I wore or however much I swore to the almighty lord, he thinks I am nothing but a whore.

-S.Alaa

 

The Inbetween

Your current is dangerous and when it is still, it is waiting to be provoked. I do not know whether to stay on the shore and wait till your currents have calmed to sail again or locate a new ocean to sail. I am in the in between.

I am unsure whether in time you will welcome me back to join you or churn up a storm to keep me out. Perplexed, I sit at the edge of the shore. Yet, I feel like I am anchored to the bottom of the sea bed, chained around my ankles, floating aimlessly just below the surface of the sea. I cannot sink to the bottom nor am I able to float to the top. Now do you understand? I am in the in between.

It feels like I am staring at the face of a clock, gnawing as the minute hand goes back and forth between two dials, waiting for it to make one revolution. And I think to myself, can it be fixed or is it time to get a new clock? I am in the in between.

It feels as though I am climbing a mountain, oxygen concentrations are depleting, I am exhausted and weak. But I have almost made it to the top, shall I take this as a victory in itself or climb cautiously and tactically to the top? I am in the in between.

Do I hold on and wait or let go? There is nothing more torturous than false hope.

I am in the in between. – S.Alaa

Saudade

There is no shame in loving someone that no longer loves you. There is no shame in missing someone that no longer misses you. It is heartbreaking but it is not shameful.

And if you find yourself laying there, wide eyed and fragile in the early hours of the morning, missing the one you love but who is long gone, tell them. Do not let the fear of these feelings not being reciprocated stop you. Do not let fear paralyse you from whispering those three precious words.

Embrace your softness, embrace your emotions and embrace the love you have for everything and everyone. There is no weakness exemplified in expressing your love. There is only strength shown in the ability to express your love for another who does not feel the same.

One life. That is all we have, one life. Love everyone and everything unconditionally, no matter the consequences.

I have loved, and still do, love individuals who no longer love me. I have confessed to missing them, despite knowing it will not be reciprocated or acknowledged. I do not love because I want to be loved, I love because I cannot help but love. I will always embrace that side of myself, regardless of the outcome. – S. Alaa

Steps

Look down at the space between you and I,
Look down at the hundreds of footprints made by other’s who have left my side.
Look at the shattered shards of glass on the floor,
Look carefully at how each piece puzzles into the glass heart I once had before.
You think I am affected by what your steps will do?
I will politely open and close the door for you. – S . Alaa

Recovery

Nostalgia is seldom cradled within these arms. Torment by bittersweet memories of the past have ceased. Scars of where I had bled love for the undeserving one are scattered across my body like landmarks. Landmarks made beautiful from the love others have poured generously back into me. I have healed with only the ache ignited by laughter in my chest, a particular blissful ache I have missed.

These lungs no longer collapse on themselves to expel a howl for an overvalued presence that offers nothing but inadequate love and bargained affection.

I have fallen in love again, fallen in love with life. Fallen in love with the opportunities it is offering me in generous handfuls that I was previously too oblivious to appreciate. An antidote of patience and hope to the resentful poison that had once thrived inside of me. It is over, this self-battling war is done. I am free. – S. Alaa