A Blank Canvas

I've been away from kuwait for a long time. Coming back home has been a surreal experience..I feel as though I have been born again into my old life with the experiences of the recent one. Its strange. For the past couple of years i lived two lives and whilst it was a relief at times to be able to get away and be someone else...someone who could walk around in jeans and a tshirt and blend into anonymity , it was also painful to have to keep saying goodbye to my family again and again and again.. There was no point in forging any new relationships... I would never see these people again....or maintaining old ones as every time i go back i developed another aspect of my personality that they couldnt relate to. It is all the more painful that only for the past year have I truly found my best friends only to leave them and never see them again...Having developed an identity where I was comfortable with who I was and forged relationships with everyone in my environment I am yanked back into my childhood home where i am left to fend for myself amongst people who are familiar and at the same time far away and different to me. Though I am 23 years old I still feel like a child wandering around, clueless as to all these different protocols and traditions. In some aspects I think this actually helps as I can consider them with a fresh perspective and discard the ones that dont make any sense to me. Still it is slightly unsettling stumbling around....a blank canvas.

Cold

Cold, so very cold, dark, fear danger,ice. Where was I? I tried to open the narrow slits that enabled me to see but even with them open there was not much difference. My breath came out in ragged gasps. My whole body lay shivering and convulsing on the cold damp floor. Twitching lips, unable to scream. My brain, befuddled with the cold wasnt progressing in its usual train of thoughts. Thoughts eluded me. I tried to clutch at a memory, something to tell me what happened. How did I get here? I clutch at a though and it immediately slips away after a brief glimpse of which I can deduce nothing. My own mind was playing tricks against me. I wondered who'd win. Somehow it got get even darker and I wondered how I could tell when it was pitch dark before. I felt atiny pressure on my heart, just a nudge. I felt it again, a little harder this time. The temperature started dropping again. Colder and colder. The touch was now a punch. I couldnt move, couldnt scream, could only endure and for how long, I could not bear to think. A tingling sensation passed through me from the bottom of my toes up to my waist and I realised I could no longer feel the lower part of my body. This could not be hell. Hell was a world of fire, maidens of evil, swirling tendrils of posionous smoke would loom in the horizon and everywhere there would be screeches of torture, pain, agony and despair. It was worse here, too quiet, a deathly hush, dark, lifeless, the only thing changing was the temperature and that dropped lower and lower. The force now felt as if a sledgehammer was being pounded through my rib cage and suddenly CRACK! Reverbrating was the echo that sounded the area and amazingly I felt no pain, just a finality I could not express in terms of words. I felt miserable. This wasnt how it was supposed to end. Or rather where it was supposed to end. I stood up, and walked into the blanket of darkness that surrounded my vision . I kept on walking until suddenly a huge ball of glittering light appeared in the sky and I could see! In front of me was a shimmering pond.. I ran to it and glimpsed into the murky depths and saw my image on the surface. Two empty sockets glared unseeingly at me. No wonder I felt no pain. I was already dead

You

I don’t know what to say
I look at you
My heart begins to beat faster
My tongue sticks to the back of my throat
I open my mouth, waiting for the words to come out
Those words that come out so easily to everyone
That smile that comes so naturally to everyone.
Except you
Why you? I ask myself
Everyday
Every hour every minute
I’m never alone.
I used to write about you
Without knowing it was you I was writing about.
I used to dream of you
Except I didn’t know it was you I was dreaming about
I wanted you to leave me alone
I tried very hard to tell you I wanted you to leave me alone
Somehow along the line the message must have gotten mixed up
I’m so scared
Scared of you
Scared of me
Scared of us.
Stupid things I’ve done
That I am doing
That I will continue to do in the future
My heart tells me to tell you the truth
You stop me
Your face tells me to go on
Your voice says to keep going
Your head says NO!!!
Who will win?
I don’t know how much more of this I can take
Looking stupid
I’m tired of it
I cry all the time
Not knowing what to do.
God help me
You sure won’t.

I am sorry

The alarm clock shakes hysterically as i stick my hand out from my haven under the covers and slam it shut. I delve deeper and seek protection from another bitter cold day. I will have to face people today. Have to paste a smile on my face and joke with a merriness i do not feel and ask questions i do not really care to know the answer to. I will have to put on the mask people have come to expect, tie my hair up in a bun, put on the spectacles i need to see the things i cant see. I do not want to leave

My conscience begins to prick...your parents have paid, your country has paid everyone has paid. Now its your turn. Do what is expected, do not disappoint. Get out! Get out! I will disappoint, it is my fate. Because when i stop disappointing other people i will start to disappoint myself. The cycle will never end.

I walk down the street, just another figure that peeple glance at as they rush by. They see a small figure straining against the wind that is trying its best to blow her away. Her hair streaming out behind her escaping from the tight hold of the purple clip that she uses to tie it up. Her bag is soo heavy that it looks as though she is bowed down by the weight of it. Dressed all in black, there is no colour, her face even looks drained of colour, Her lips large, expressive, show a passion that is belied by the dead flat look in her eyes she walks ahead looking up at the sky .

I reach my destination, compose my face into contours that will be expected of me, Of course i am late. I am always late. I smile sheepishly with a shame i do not feel and rush in. So the day passes like any other day, where the only interest is in trying to get through it without doing something drastic. I wonder to myself if there is more to this? I never wanted to go to university. I was sick and tired of rules and so excaped my school to get to place where there were fewer rules. The rules were still there...
I can hear the words of my mother so well in my head. Its as if i know what she will say before she says it. You will find your freedom in your mind. There is no future in what you want. I didnt care about the future. My experience has always taught me never to expect never to plan, never to hope. I have never had stability in my life and so i avoid routine. I avoid repeated actions and continuity. I can never commit to anything and this troubles me. I could not see myself living like this all my life. Something would have to happen.