When life gets larger than life, I become as small as I can get. It is as though I want to occupy as little of the earth as possible. Be the tiniest burden. I want to be unheard, mostly invisible (unless I need to buy a loaf of bread), and as dim as a living being can be without attracting any attention. I would gladly offer a firefly the immensity of humankind on these nights. Tonight is like that. If I could I would disappear. Whenever I think of disappearing I think I will end up on the other side of the Universe amidst a mountain of disappeared things. Pen caps, hair scrunchies, wallets, and white bunnies.
Coming home, I put the key in the lock and turn it soundlessly. When the locks click into place, they apologize. No white lights. No just-like-daylight. Daylight is loud and lifelike. Light is loud, I think. Has anybody ever measured the sound of light? Today I read in a book that a deaf lady asked her lover if falling snow had a sound and he lied to her. He said it did. If someone asked me if light had a sound I would say yes, but nobody ever asks me things like that. People just ask me why I look like death, if I am sick, how my breathing is. Well if you can hear me breathing it’s not very good, is it.
I found an old papier-mache lamp with a fused bulb so I walked across the street to buy a new one. 10 watts. It’s a comfort. It’s a quiet light. It watches me and when I look at it, it very politely looks away.
There have been so many tears shed from places so deep within me, I might have thought I was a cave. After a point crying isn’t sobbing, and sobbing isn’t weeping. It’s just a soundless echo. It reverberates inside your bones and turns your marrow to whey, but it is mute. That is when you know this is not sadness. This is grief. Something inside you says this is how you cry when something dies, except you don’t know what has died. And it hasn’t been long enough for anything to begin decomposing, but inside all is rotten already. You wouldn’t know anyway, would you.
Here is my trouble: I look for my mother in all my lovers and I find her every time. They love, they leave. They love, they leave. Somewhere in the middle they get very angry at me. Some throw things. Most say the worst words you could imagine strung together in a sentence. But the worst is when they say nothing at all. Nothing. You wouldn’t think that in a world as noisy as ours, there could be anything noisier than silence. But it’s deafening. It’s like stuffing your ears with cotton until you gag on it. But I don’t think it is my mother I am looking for anymore. I think it is a mother and I also think I am looking in the wrong places. Lovers have good intentions but they’re not your mother.
I wanted to write today because it is the quietest form of conversation I know there is. I need to be quiet now, but the words are building up and somewhere near my voicebox they transmute into tears and this is pointless. Each time I pick up a book, I wound myself with what I read. Words are the sharpest knives. Faith, and time, trust, and loneliness, integrity and blame, worthiness. It is so much easier to feel responsible for everything you are losing. At least you know where to aim. But when there is no question of blame, what do you do? Well. You sit in a dark, quiet house and tell yourself that this will pass. That maybe tomorrow will have answers. Or that maybe it is unimportant to understand the workings of the Universe and simply let yourself become one with the earth. And if you put your ear to the ground and listen, you may even hear the unbearable lightness of the dark.
between desire and disaster 
Beautiful words.
You make me weep with the way you write.
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I’m sorry.
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Don’t be.
It takes life and love to write like that; and I wish I was that gifted. Precious words.
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MAK, you take the million pieces of your heart and kiss each one of them so beautifully and expect the world not to be affected by that?
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I think you are ethereally beautiful. I have followed you from a far for a very long time now. You touch my soul. Your words have often been my companion, my comfort when i felt most alone. They gave me strength by way of faith. They gave me hope by way of knowing sthg of love existed because it existed in you. You are golden, you were the light in my darkness. I wish I could intertwine my spirit in yours and give you back what you gave me in my darkest hours. I wish I could at least enter your mind and fight back the demons until you were ready to challenge them yourself. But lady, you are rooted in sthg so deep that if I were to traverse the ground only then would I find the beginning of you so you need neither me or anyone else because you are planted so solidly. But I say, please have faith; let me return to you some faith – have my faith, insha’Allah what you seek will always find you. And for all the times you are searching, may Allah be your companion and His light illuminating your path.
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Whoever you are, you are godsent.
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Then i am that, for you, for now. x
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Beautiful, beautiful stranger. Thank you.
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I wish I could explain better how you are the “thank” – in and of yourself. Just my starting to give back what I owe friend. I offer you my du’ah/prayers as a way of a transcendent embrace. Be sure to leave a window open. x
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I want to write to you. And I want you to write back to me.
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You make my senses go numb with every word you write. I religiously follow every blog post you write because you and only you can portray such feelings ever so beautifully.
It hurt me immensely when i read this line.
Here is my trouble: I look for my mother in all my lovers and I find her every time. They love, they leave. They love, they leave. Somewhere in the middle they get very angry at me. Some throw things.
I so relate to it. I miss my mother, and i try finding her in every woman i fall in love with. Yet things go wrong. Gloom Inadvertently returns to be part of my life once again.
I am so sorry for your pain. i wish , i pray that the Almighty gives you strength always 🙂
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Reblogged this on Anecdotes of a Jester.
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Reblogged this on Irks Of Being A Wallflower.
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God I love you.
I love you.
The crude feelings I have, the anonymous emotions I feel , you give them a name. Your words are so profound I get goosebumps all over.
I love you.
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Write to me.
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Loved every bit of it! 😀 looking forward to more of your writings! Cant wait!
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