P-please P-please Be Patie

Disclaimer: the following post is ridiculously personal. I know I haven’t made these lame disclaimers in a while, but just in case any of you feel confused about the tone, it is because my mind gears can get stuck in some function sometimes, a computing error, so it blurts out nonsense. Just as with most of my other personal posts they are usually for me to reread after a certain problem has passed (with the will of God), anyways thank you for sticking around. And sorry that these posts make no sense, I’ll hopefully be putting up better content soon. 

It has been 19 days. It feels like 19 months. Nineteen. Perhaps a few years. 

We are entering the third week of incarceration — mental psychical flatulent prison. 

Let us pretend to be wrecked, injured from spewing debris.

Let us force some muscles to curve and laugh with the kids until he returns.

Let us inhale then exhale and not choke in between,

Nothing is broken 

Perhaps except for her — but she’s always been away

Love is no entity requiring observable forms of emotive behavior,

I suppose that necessitates a grinding pain of infatuated idealism that is as feeble as the last gazelle in the herd

Targeted as sure prey 

I know little of the sense that is to arrive from my words, perhaps they are not mine for right now 

I understand writers embody a certain prestige, an air that usually reads ascetic on paper

And hedonistic in practice 

Truth is not from the mind that already seeks — that one has already launched

I am created and will return soon

I am passing through, not staying anywhere here so comfort feels terrifying 

Repose is not for now — why can’t you understand?! 

Keep your body here now let your mind travel to a start — the one that slowly placed you here

You’ve lost a good chunk of expression, but who cares about this language anyway 

Learn and learn and learn then die 

Return and return and return alright 

He will come back to you. He. Will. Return. 

Ah, patience if you can hear me,

I pray for your warmth. 

And I pray for your serenity 

I wonder if there is such a thing as a liar who knows not whom they are

Perhaps it feels easier to loosen a commitment to some scar, the wind filling it with grit — coating it in a timed dust that I let pass through 

I have always had the choice to know how to live, I have always been driven by some motive to exist — but never like this what a blessing!

I remember so clearly being honest with myself 

As a child with frilly hands, a shaking pen and the mind of a goldfish – where’s my next meal? My next round transparent bowl of water? Maybe today I can nibble instead of bite and tomorrow I can crunch and not wiggle —

Meaningless

Faulty purposes like weighted sacks of curse words and fables (cloooouds)

I asked myself where I wanted to be and I couldn’t decide 

I laugh now because it is that I could not comprehend. That question was not cogent, it didn’t filter properly I suppose 

I don’t know what other question I could have asked this eleven or twelve year old nobody 

Perhaps, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Ugh 

Impure puerile games. No game played right

I didn’t want yesterday or tomorrow, but I was sure I didn’t want it to all end. What was it? It? It. 

It was a swirl of confounded idiocy unguided — just thrown there, written in some splotchy ink on yellow paper, unreadable from the age

Probably from the structure 

God has blessed me with this peace. I have been blessed with a tranquil motive to proceed with the certainty it won’t be for long 

“For today is work and no grade, and tomorrow is grade and no work.” It doesn’t read as poetically in this language.

Ugh, this was never enough — how did I ever grasp such an undermined infatuation? 

الحمد الله الحمد الله الحمد الله. اللهم إني أسألك الفردوس الأعلى. رب أفرع علي صبرا جميلة — رب ورده إلينا قريبا انك انت الرزاق الكريم  

Feature photo is my photography 

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Test

It’s a tough one this time. Really really tough. 

I love him, him and Ibi, 

Nothing else matters but them two

Tests are remembered as more facile only 

Because this one is the toughest. 

Really

Really tough,

Ah, man this one is tough. 

There is not much more to say. 

Patience, righteousness, firmament

And he will return. Gosh, why worry?

He’ll come back to you babe. 

This Is Tough

To the past few posts that were solely built on personal experience and clenching thoughts, I apologize. I know I said I was going to drench this thing with wincing humor, satirical teas and cool information to pretend as though I have some form of intelligence — but things are tough. 

I suppose when “things” are tough, optimally, all forms of patience and silence may be preferred. And I can’t really know why but it’s some secret purification that constructs a seal, shattered if divulged, maybe. I don’t know. I guess from far away, strong hearts always seem so capable. They look composed and wise, and their “things” are sure to be tougher than anyone. I think that picture is how I want to be when “things” are the way they are. But I don’t know anything about it. 

I do not swim in some squander or effort that evaporates — I am just afraid that time is dripping down from my fingertips the same way the last droplets of water do when I’m done washing them. There are so few of them left, I can’t exactly pinpoint how much or know when I’m to wash my hands again but right now they’re slipping away into the sink of charcoal. I think that’s how it is. 

I have become so much more ambivalent about my decisions — my mind shivers at ideas sometimes. There is so much left to learn. There is still so freaking much left to learn. And I haven’t even commenced a proper process — I have only been vascillating a convoluted confusion, weighing options and choices and not lucidly comprehending their consequences. I suppose I never used to comprehend much at all. It’s true, you know, how environment shapes almost everything — it shaped my charlatan facade, where I had assumed that I understood behavior because I read a few pages and listened to a few people. 

This is tough. The point is this is really tough. And it’s not because I don’t know what to do. God has blessed me with guides and I know what’s to be done. I just can’t understand why yet I guess. But it’s tough. 

I’m assuming objectively all these stupid words seem exactly that: stupid. I hope they are. I hope I can look back at this with that strong “wise” and quiet heart that I see glistening from far away. And I don’t want that balance for this life. I don’t think I can want things like that anymore — this is for what is after. I am blessed to have detanglerizers next to me. I am blessed to have the heart I do. This is tough but I am blessed. 

I think that was the purpose of this — a quiet imbued with thoughts that are translated inaccurately. And so it is only tough by perception — and if it is not then I still win prizes of patience. Be patient be patient be patient. The heaven you desire is to all who can be patient. This is tough — be patient. 

Ma

Disclaimer: This is a little reminiscent of my CWM series, but remains separate from it in various ways. Who cares anyway, right? I didn’t wish it so, but most of this is a played out reality. It reads a lot more melancholic than it is now — these are my thoughts spelled out as amateur analyses of memories I don’t want to completely let go of yet. And isn’t that what evincing is for? Continue reading “Ma”

CWM: “Gratitude, I Think”

This was originally thought up on September 9, 2015. It was first published on December 23, 2015. I can still almost taste this memory. It’s written a little pretentiously though. Sorry, I like pretend like I’m cool in my journal! Continue reading “CWM: “Gratitude, I Think””