I've recently realised that I hate myself. For what reason I don't know.
The thought first came up to my mind when I found out how I hate reading my posts on this blog! The moment I finish writing I just click "publish" and I never want to read it, ever again. Even if I know it was an achievement.
And the mirror. The moment I lay my eyes on the mirror I don't feel very excited to meet myself. It's that world in which I find my own reflections, with all its imperfections and dirt, no disguise no more! "But GOD I wanna let it go!" I hate looking at that wide forhead, this lousy hair, those yellowish eyes and soar eyelids. How have I come to look at myself as such! This pale skin, those black pores. Me. I hate me.
A dear friend once told me that what i think of myself, the others will think of me. This sentence I believe and admire, yet never 'apply'. When people find a girl always looking at what's beneath her feet, careful of tumbling down. What do you expect? For God's sake what do you expect?
I always think of my students and how they bear such an extraordinarily boring person teaching them. And when they express their deepest love and appreciation, I can't help wondering what they love me for! Aren't I mere crap!
Sometimes I wanna get away from it all.
Sometimes I wanna end it all.
Sometimes.
Logically speaking, you can hate yourself when you hurt others,or feel very unreligious. But then I honestly don't hurt people intentionally at least - and I'm exerting some effort reconnecting with God. And when I make a mistake, it's not like nobody else does it, but nobody hates himself for it like i do.
If I don't know the disease, how can I ever know the cure!
Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Friday, October 13, 2006
Have I introduced myself well?
1) I really am totally harmless, except when it comes to me.
2) I think Pink Floyd is not just a band…Pink Floyd is a tune. Pink Floyd is a drug. Pink Floyd is a passion. Pink Floyd is a life.
3) I am a feminist .Sad but true.
4) I love wildly, savagely…and roughly.
5) I love people so much. You can say this is my weak point.
6) Black coffee is…. Umm…read “Obsession”!!
7) I don’t think I’m ordinary…although there’s still nothing peculiarly special about my life.
8) One of my dreams is becoming a script writer.
9) Try asking me a question…and I will never give you a precise answer.
10) I think I’ll die an awful death. A violent murder or something.
11) I hate technology. Sometimes to the point that I feel I can’t live without it.
12)I have no problem with gays, lesbians and bisexuals ….
13) I cannot bear weakness.
14) I am a rebellious bomb just about to blow up.
15) I am still haunted by a picture showing a woman’s body torn in half…during the Bosnian Genocide.
16) It is not that I daydream a lot; I rarely even visit real life.
17) Among all love songs…The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” just sweeps me off the ground.
18) I have suicidal tendencies. One thing you should know for sure; if I ever get raped, that will be the end of it all.
19) I have a passion for deep voices…the David Gilmour type.
20) I am the resurrection of Sarah Kane.
21) I love the mystery, the selfishness, the mere look of cats!
22) The longest time I can concentrate on one thing is 20 seconds.
23) I am sphexophobic.
24) I subconsciously hold my breath when I see Angelina Jolie.
25) I think keeping some of your secrets just to yourself is fishy but amusing.
2) I think Pink Floyd is not just a band…Pink Floyd is a tune. Pink Floyd is a drug. Pink Floyd is a passion. Pink Floyd is a life.
3) I am a feminist .Sad but true.
4) I love wildly, savagely…and roughly.
5) I love people so much. You can say this is my weak point.
6) Black coffee is…. Umm…read “Obsession”!!
7) I don’t think I’m ordinary…although there’s still nothing peculiarly special about my life.
8) One of my dreams is becoming a script writer.
9) Try asking me a question…and I will never give you a precise answer.
10) I think I’ll die an awful death. A violent murder or something.
11) I hate technology. Sometimes to the point that I feel I can’t live without it.
12)I have no problem with gays, lesbians and bisexuals ….
13) I cannot bear weakness.
14) I am a rebellious bomb just about to blow up.
15) I am still haunted by a picture showing a woman’s body torn in half…during the Bosnian Genocide.
16) It is not that I daydream a lot; I rarely even visit real life.
17) Among all love songs…The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” just sweeps me off the ground.
18) I have suicidal tendencies. One thing you should know for sure; if I ever get raped, that will be the end of it all.
19) I have a passion for deep voices…the David Gilmour type.
20) I am the resurrection of Sarah Kane.
21) I love the mystery, the selfishness, the mere look of cats!
22) The longest time I can concentrate on one thing is 20 seconds.
23) I am sphexophobic.
24) I subconsciously hold my breath when I see Angelina Jolie.
25) I think keeping some of your secrets just to yourself is fishy but amusing.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
اللوحة
جلسنا ننتظر دورنا لاجراء مقابلة روتينية مع مدير شركة لا أعلم عنها شيئا....كنا نتكلم و نضحك كعادتنا حتى جاءنا صوته الحاد موبخا..."انتوا جايين لشغل يبقى لازم تقعدوا محترمين"...
تجادلت معه قليلا...و تركنى أنتفض و أنا أفكر فى مصيرى المجهول...حتى رأيتها.
كانت معلقة على الحائط بإهمال...يختبىء جمالها وسط صورة للرئيس و سقف قبيح..و صمت المفاجأة.
و كما ساد الصمت فجأة...علا صوتها فجأة...نفر من الأحصنة يجرى وسط الحقول الخضراء...أكاد أرى الحشائش تتمايل مع الرياح التى أحدثتها جلبة الأحصنة...ها هو الحصان الأبيض ذو الشعر الذهبى يتوسط اللوحة...و ينظر إلى نظرة المودع...يجرى نحوى فلا يصلنى أبدا...أحاول أن أهدهد عنقه الجميل فأرتطم بالزجاج العازل...
"حناخدك الأول تدريب لمدة تلات شهور...."
ولا يزال الحصان يعدو نحوى...أكاد أرى الدموع تتساقط بطيئا من عينيه الواسعتين...أسمع صوته ينادينى و أتمنى أن أعود إليه...أمتطى ظهره الأملس فيأخذنى إلى مكان بعيد لا يعلمه سوانا...مكان ترتوى فيه روحى , أنزوى فيه وحدى بعيدا عن الناس وعن العمل و عن المدير و عن الواقع المرير!
"وداعا أيها العالم القاسى...سوف أتركك اليوم.."
و تركت المكان بخطى ثقيلة و لا يزال صهيل الحصان ينادينى...
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Nothing missing
"Maybe someday u'll wake up...and barely conscious you'll say to no one...isn't something missing? You won't cry for my absence I know...you forgot me long ago! Am I that unimportant...am I so insignificant...?"
What kind of hell is that?
What kind of hell is that when you know you won't be missed...when you know that you are simply a face...a couple of weak eyes in the memory of a somebody...
How painful is it when you know that all of your suffering,all of your pain..all of your secret smiles amount to nothing but a faded memory..a disgraceful past...to someone..
and you spend your lonely nights thinking...knowing that you are nothing to someone.Yes.Wake up.Kill yourself.Kill yourself.You are a nothing to somebody.
"Isn't something missing...isn't someone missing me?"
In just one moment all of your life diminshes into a drop of rain falling to the ground....a dirt under people's feet.A drop inseparable from the soot and dirt and dust and disease of time.A nothing.
A nothing.
But you won't kill yourself yet.It will only make you a weaker memory.It will only reduce you to a couple of lines in someone's diary...a handful of dust in earth's hungry mouth.A handful of bones crushed by a mountain of grief.
"Am I so insignificant?"
And now you're left to gather what is left of you...turning and twisting among more and more people who only make you a less and less significant memory...
Am I so insignificant?
What kind of hell is that?
What kind of hell is that when you know you won't be missed...when you know that you are simply a face...a couple of weak eyes in the memory of a somebody...
How painful is it when you know that all of your suffering,all of your pain..all of your secret smiles amount to nothing but a faded memory..a disgraceful past...to someone..
and you spend your lonely nights thinking...knowing that you are nothing to someone.Yes.Wake up.Kill yourself.Kill yourself.You are a nothing to somebody.
"Isn't something missing...isn't someone missing me?"
In just one moment all of your life diminshes into a drop of rain falling to the ground....a dirt under people's feet.A drop inseparable from the soot and dirt and dust and disease of time.A nothing.
A nothing.
But you won't kill yourself yet.It will only make you a weaker memory.It will only reduce you to a couple of lines in someone's diary...a handful of dust in earth's hungry mouth.A handful of bones crushed by a mountain of grief.
"Am I so insignificant?"
And now you're left to gather what is left of you...turning and twisting among more and more people who only make you a less and less significant memory...
Am I so insignificant?
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
!لو أنى فقط أتلاشى
I wouldn't live my life again if I could...only that I would love to study -again- the works from which I hand-picked these quotes!
"The world is sometimes just."
Maxine Hong Kingston,The Woman Warrior
".......:I only wanted to relieve my mind
By telling someone what I'd been concealing.
........:all you wanted was the luxury
Of an intimate disclosure to a stranger."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"There's no memory you can wrap in camphor
But the moths will get in."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"What is hell?Hell is oneself,
Hell is alone,the other figures in it
Merely projections.There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to.One is always alone."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"It no longer seems worth while to speak to anyone!"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Can we only love
Something created by our own imagination?
Are we all in fact unloving and unlovable?"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Disillusion can become itself an illusion
If we rest in it."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Rose:What's it like out?
Mrs Sands:It's very dark out.
Mr Sands:No darker than in."
Harold Pinter,The Room
"It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels."
Virginia Woolf,Mrs Dalloway
"(He):No man sacrifices his honour even for one he loves.
(She):Millions of women have done so"(!!!)
Henrik Ibsen,A Doll's House
"Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it,and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate,in the hope of justifying their own existence."
E.M.Forster,A Passage to India
"O untimely death,death."
William Shakespeare,King Lear
By the way is death ever untimely?
"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on."
William Shakespeare,The Tempest
"O,that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw,and reslove itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter."
William Shakespeare,Hamlet
Everlasting:God
canon:law
"I wanted to find a hole in the ground and hide myself in it forever!"
Tennessee Williams,The Glass Menagerie
"The world is sometimes just."
Maxine Hong Kingston,The Woman Warrior
".......:I only wanted to relieve my mind
By telling someone what I'd been concealing.
........:all you wanted was the luxury
Of an intimate disclosure to a stranger."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"There's no memory you can wrap in camphor
But the moths will get in."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"What is hell?Hell is oneself,
Hell is alone,the other figures in it
Merely projections.There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to.One is always alone."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"It no longer seems worth while to speak to anyone!"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Can we only love
Something created by our own imagination?
Are we all in fact unloving and unlovable?"
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Disillusion can become itself an illusion
If we rest in it."
T.S.Eliot,The Cocktail Party
"Rose:What's it like out?
Mrs Sands:It's very dark out.
Mr Sands:No darker than in."
Harold Pinter,The Room
"It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels."
Virginia Woolf,Mrs Dalloway
"(He):No man sacrifices his honour even for one he loves.
(She):Millions of women have done so"(!!!)
Henrik Ibsen,A Doll's House
"Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it,and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate,in the hope of justifying their own existence."
E.M.Forster,A Passage to India
"O untimely death,death."
William Shakespeare,King Lear
By the way is death ever untimely?
"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on."
William Shakespeare,The Tempest
"O,that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw,and reslove itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter."
William Shakespeare,Hamlet
Everlasting:God
canon:law
"I wanted to find a hole in the ground and hide myself in it forever!"
Tennessee Williams,The Glass Menagerie
"You can't eat the orange and throw the peel away - a man is not a piece of fruit!"
Arthur Miller,Death of a Salesman
Arthur Miller,Death of a Salesman
ما معنى أن أستمر فى هذه الحياة الكذبة؟..من أكون..و لم لا أنزل الاّن فى جوف النهر.أرقب من قلب الماء بطون ذلك البجع الأبيض الرجراجة وأصلى أن يحملنى التيار بعيدا جدا,بعيدا عن البجع وعن البط و عن الأشجار والجبال وعن البشر -- بعيدا ألى فجوة مدفونة وسط الصخور أندس فيها و أنزوى ثم تغمرنى الطحالب والنباتات والقواقع و الأسماك وتخفينى إلى الأبد؟
لو أنى فقط أتلاشى
لو أنى فقط أتلاشى
بهاء طاهر,الحب فى المنفى
"But man is not made for defeat....a man can be destroyed but not defeated."
Ernest Hemingway,The Old Man and the Sea
Ernest Hemingway,The Old Man and the Sea
Monday, May 08, 2006
The Self-Torturer
"Irritable bowel syndrome,right?" She asked with a stupid smile on her face.
"Yes." He answered with a more ridiculous smile.
A gush of hot blood rushes to her face as she pics up her bag and the bitter residue of a once healthy and strong little girl.She tries to hold herself together and face the eyes that meet her but it gradually becomes too hard with the tightening in her throat and the tears that have sprung in her eyes despite of her.Tears that have jumped to her eyes,slided over her lower eyelid and drew a couple of glistening lines on her face,brushing out her despair.Tears,tears: do I fight them...do I hold them back?
And so I took my way home,dying for some rest,someone to care,and I try to hush her,I try to stop her but she would just seize my eyes and maim my heart and ruin me all over.
Syndrome-hospital-pills,pills,pills,tons of poisonous pills,forever-forever! in hospital all your life-no-think you are weak-weak-weak-check into hospital every weekend-weak-bowel-nervous-those nauseous yet fulfilling pitiful eyes-colon-irritable-irritated-be strong-forver weak weak weak
She is not ashamed anymore of others seeing her cry.She crosses under a shaking fly-over.
I pass by my favourite collection of flowers,their amazing colours still glowing in the dark-fuscia,
royal purple,charming wisteria,with their sweet smell actuallytaking over me and filling up my hungry soul inch by inch...
She finally reaches her house....heads slowly to her room and shuts the door.
Silence reigns
.......................
You have done this to yourself.You have brought it all on your sick head.You have burdened yourself with the miseries you have invented and now they have appeared from thin ice to haunt you all over.You are disgusting.Look what you have done to yourself.And all of this for what?For that pigsty of a world?Becoming angry,then mad,then fuming,pretending to be too kind to hurt others so you dry yourself up instead.Look at you sucking your own blood you fool.
Drip....drip...drip.
She pours tons of blood into her hungry mouth and it does not make her sick,does not quench her thirst.She watches her skin as it slowly sinks between her bones...and the blue helpless veins trying to find a place to survive,but they are squeezed gradually between her blue skin and white bones...that they get too thin,too leafy themselves to stand thier own grounds.
I am going to be patient,not a patient.I won't let an illness beat me.I know it is much easier to express negative emotions...but I am just grateful for everything You have chosen for me.If everyday provides its own gifts,my illness is a gift I will make the best use of.I will not break down or step back.You must ride over misfortunes,not lower down your throat to be slit open...
"Open the door!"
But they cannot hear her in their ivory worlds...she closes her ivory door upon her forever waiting,waiting for it to lie down with all his weight on her frail chest and grab her soul right out of her nose with his strong grip.
waiting....
"Open the door!"
ha-ha-eh-ah-ah-eh-ah-ah-he-ah she gapes as she brings out her last breaths...but they cannot see her through her ivory door,tearing out her own dry skin with her protruding teeth..they cannot see her munching her flesh...enjoying the bitter taste,tearing out her colon,"Now,you will never get the better of me!"
"Open the door!"
How I love the touch of warm water as I splash it on my face,how it freshens me up and brings me to life...how it makes me see everything clearly,eases my pain as it gently strokes my cheeks..I will live with it.I will stand my ground.
And finally the huge,ivory door is pulled down...and now all the miseries,all the depression,all the grief 'one life contains' are brought out to the open.
Too late!
But nothing has changed.They turn away from the stale,stinking air she has left...They don't realise it is her at first-again.All they see is a pile of bones...with swarms of flies buzzing all around them...and the fat white worms eating slowly into her brain.
"Shut the door!"
I turn away from her as I wonder if she had any chance of escape..and I draw out a sigh of relief,reaching the conclusion that has for so long pervaded my mind...
"Yes." He answered with a more ridiculous smile.
A gush of hot blood rushes to her face as she pics up her bag and the bitter residue of a once healthy and strong little girl.She tries to hold herself together and face the eyes that meet her but it gradually becomes too hard with the tightening in her throat and the tears that have sprung in her eyes despite of her.Tears that have jumped to her eyes,slided over her lower eyelid and drew a couple of glistening lines on her face,brushing out her despair.Tears,tears: do I fight them...do I hold them back?
And so I took my way home,dying for some rest,someone to care,and I try to hush her,I try to stop her but she would just seize my eyes and maim my heart and ruin me all over.
Syndrome-hospital-pills,pills,pills,tons of poisonous pills,forever-forever! in hospital all your life-no-think you are weak-weak-weak-check into hospital every weekend-weak-bowel-nervous-those nauseous yet fulfilling pitiful eyes-colon-irritable-irritated-be strong-forver weak weak weak
She is not ashamed anymore of others seeing her cry.She crosses under a shaking fly-over.
I pass by my favourite collection of flowers,their amazing colours still glowing in the dark-fuscia,
royal purple,charming wisteria,with their sweet smell actuallytaking over me and filling up my hungry soul inch by inch...
She finally reaches her house....heads slowly to her room and shuts the door.
Silence reigns
.......................
You have done this to yourself.You have brought it all on your sick head.You have burdened yourself with the miseries you have invented and now they have appeared from thin ice to haunt you all over.You are disgusting.Look what you have done to yourself.And all of this for what?For that pigsty of a world?Becoming angry,then mad,then fuming,pretending to be too kind to hurt others so you dry yourself up instead.Look at you sucking your own blood you fool.
Drip....drip...drip.
She pours tons of blood into her hungry mouth and it does not make her sick,does not quench her thirst.She watches her skin as it slowly sinks between her bones...and the blue helpless veins trying to find a place to survive,but they are squeezed gradually between her blue skin and white bones...that they get too thin,too leafy themselves to stand thier own grounds.
I am going to be patient,not a patient.I won't let an illness beat me.I know it is much easier to express negative emotions...but I am just grateful for everything You have chosen for me.If everyday provides its own gifts,my illness is a gift I will make the best use of.I will not break down or step back.You must ride over misfortunes,not lower down your throat to be slit open...
"Open the door!"
But they cannot hear her in their ivory worlds...she closes her ivory door upon her forever waiting,waiting for it to lie down with all his weight on her frail chest and grab her soul right out of her nose with his strong grip.
waiting....
"Open the door!"
ha-ha-eh-ah-ah-eh-ah-ah-he-ah she gapes as she brings out her last breaths...but they cannot see her through her ivory door,tearing out her own dry skin with her protruding teeth..they cannot see her munching her flesh...enjoying the bitter taste,tearing out her colon,"Now,you will never get the better of me!"
"Open the door!"
How I love the touch of warm water as I splash it on my face,how it freshens me up and brings me to life...how it makes me see everything clearly,eases my pain as it gently strokes my cheeks..I will live with it.I will stand my ground.
And finally the huge,ivory door is pulled down...and now all the miseries,all the depression,all the grief 'one life contains' are brought out to the open.
Too late!
But nothing has changed.They turn away from the stale,stinking air she has left...They don't realise it is her at first-again.All they see is a pile of bones...with swarms of flies buzzing all around them...and the fat white worms eating slowly into her brain.
"Shut the door!"
I turn away from her as I wonder if she had any chance of escape..and I draw out a sigh of relief,reaching the conclusion that has for so long pervaded my mind...
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