Tag Archives: depression

The Fading Art of Revolution

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

“Breathe in life and breathe out distortion. Breathe out violence, blood, and pain. Breathe out flashbacks that are prone to destroy you.” I whisper to myself as I struggle to move from bed.

7 years have passed in an eye blink, however, I can no longer touch the euphoria I once intertwined with in Tahrir square. Those who struggle with depression are aware of dissociation. You space out suddenly, abandon your body, and get lost in time and space. Similar to an unpleasant astral projection experience.

I never thought that I would crave dissociating from the revolution! I wonder if I can hew my heart and my brain, and scrap those memories.

My body was once full of beautiful paintings of the Egyptian revolution. When the revolution failed, I thought it’s easy to scrap these paintings and turn my body into a clear canvas for new events that may come, a day of liberation when once again, I would summon hope. However, who am I fooling? Those memories, like blood, are dancing in my veins, I would eliminate my skin and they will remain to define everything I am.

What have we done? How dare we think of coloring the future? What was the spell that blinded us?

I can no longer remember the spirit, I can’t draw those sincere grins anymore. The faces of the knights are fading, the millions in the streets are turning into Silhouettes, and I am unable to hear those melodic chants… All that remains are corpses, bloodshed, funerals and solid faces of troops.

Blood, scars, screams, tear gas, screams again and again and again.

I torture myself, I overthink and overanalyze, I wonder why did I take off to the streets. I keep wondering if we, too have blood on our hands. Did we incite HOPE? Did we create an illusion? Is it the biggest humane victory or mistake? I am losing my mind, I am fighting with beasts. I hope I can cut my chest wide open and squeeze the heart that refuses to quit aching. However, even if I did, memories still run through my veins. Silent screams are eating me alive.

                                            Is there a place to buy their mundane?

Can I forge reality?

He threatens and says ” What happened 7 years ago, will never happen again.” with his brutal voice he says “I won’t allow it” My naive mind wonders if he knows what came upon us? Does he realize the scars you caused? Does he understand what we have witnessed?

Our dreams refuse to crossover. Our hopes are stabbing us, they refuse to leave, they refuse to quit. We are old weary souls stuck in youthful bodies. We are defeated but the voice of the revolution lingers on.

 

I look at you, Orion and I wonder if I am strong enough, I am deeply sorry, I wish I was born somewhere else. I wish you didn’t have to carry my pain. And even though I choose to fight this alone, my ultimate desire is not to have to fight at first place. I will be forever sorry for charming you with Egypt. I should have told you that this charm comes with a price. I should have screamed that loving Egypt is both, bliss and curse. I think of the day I will tell my daughter about the lost revolution and I pray to have the strength and reclaim the beautiful paintings that once colored Tahrir Square.

– I close my eyes, I hold your hand and pray for a wind of change –

Inhale..

Exhale..

Inhale..

Exhale…

“Beathe in Hope, breathe out grief. Breathe in victory, breathe out defeat.”

The Revolution Continues.

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Letter for Depression

Dear Depression, I want to take this opportunity and thank you for being generous enough and giving me back my ability to write. I am aware that you understand that writing equates oxygen for me. I hope my words would convey my senses, I neither solicit mercy nor sympathy; my words are nothing but a reflection of the circus inside.

I like to picture you with awe, I don’t imagine you as a monster or a “black dog” as they describe you. On the contrary, I picture you as a beautiful entity that is overwhelmed with senses. I know your seasonal visit has no cruel intentions, I am aware that you carry nothing but scars of a conspicuous past. I am thankful that you are eager to remind me of my scars to learn and thrive.

However, while I always welcomed your visits through the darkest times and let you in with open arms – I just can not understand why would you visit me in the most beautiful period of my life?! For several years, I have adopted masks, masks that would protect me and walls that would secure my fragile being, only recently I have learned to stand with nothing but an armor of flesh.

I thought that my soul was murdered long ago, nevertheless, there was always an ounce of hope lingering between ashes and tears. One night, the light turned out to be real, HOPE was not a phantasm but a reality that worth every ache. I am no longer tinctured with the past or the present. 

And for that, I ask you why?

Why do you haunt me with equivocality?

Why do you hew my soul?

Why do you urge me to escape life? I respect and appreciate death but I refuse to bring it uninvited.

Why do you distort my self-image?

Why do you refuse to let me be?

I am not asking you to leave but I am asking you to intertwine with my reality and breathe in colors which portray who I really am. Your darkness is beautiful so, please join me.

Depression, here I am evincing my misfortunes and not blaming you, on the contrary, I kindly ask you to understand. For my life is not mine anymore and I refuse to abandon felicity out of fear. I refuse to hurt the one I Love, I refuse to give up and I refuse to be nothing but the strong person I am.

I am not a victim nor a quitter and I will not fight with you because you are part of me. My soul is made of melodies and silver linings – all the rest is noise.

Dear Depression, please be kind.

the-depression-of-man-rays-violin-900

Art by Domen Lo


Perfect

The past made you lost in space

You wanted me present

You wanted me gone

You pierced me to your shield

You left alone

 

And I fight my demons and whisper

It’s perfect love

And I lay with demons and Whisper

It’s perfect love

 

Carve your pain onto my heart

I am made of poison

Nothing will hurt

I may cry but you are blind

 

And I fight my demons and whisper

It’s perfect love

And I lay with demons and Whisper

It’s perfect love

And I smash like stars and whisper

I am perfect love

And with a grin, I whisper

I am perfect love

burning_love_by_pixelnase


On the Borders of my Mind.

It is ironic how a slight attack could change everything. It’s uneasy to explain or make feelings coherent. After all, borderline personality disorder comes with bits and pieces from everything else. Sometimes anxiety, unexplained fears, and the worst of all DEPRESSION. BPD comes with its baggage, as if, we, humans need more burdens! The world is hard itself, surviving is an act of courage in the 21st century, what’s the point behind having unseen monster that carves out holes on our fragile existence. And no matter how much you fight, monitor those thoughts and plead….. Nothing leaves.

I remember few years ago when I took a challenging decision to quit medications, I knew its going to be uneasy ride in my emotional circus. But, today I would do it all over again, I would take the very same decisions. Because it helped me, when I browse online forums and read what people are saying about their experiences, I wonder if that could be me OR I am just another spectrum. I read words that I am completely unfamiliar with “Co-dependence, manipulation, emotional abuse” and I wonder if I have ever been like that, I wonder if my father’s death shaped the different case of borderline I came across. I isolated myself from the world and wrapped myself in darkness to be safe, I managed to learn dealing with my volatile mood. I confess I mastered manipulation, a skill I learned as a reaction to those who truly deserve it, however, at some point in my life I was done. I despised seeing myself getting dragged in the path branded by manipulation, that wasn’t me. I had to escape.

I learned to put myself in everyone’s shoes regardless, to forgive and accept an apology I will NEVER get. After all, I didn’t want to see a corrupted image of myself and use BPD as my ultimate scapegoat.

Now, I look back and process how did the past 5 years pass in an eye blink, where I am today and the price I paid…. A very expensive price and I am not sure if anything in the world is worth losing human being in the process.

I look back knowing that I am 200% stronger, capable of handling my past and controlling my demons… I know that every episode will eventually pass, every heartache will go, and while soul-ache remains; I am certain that life is bittersweet.

I wish I can simply explain everything to the people who care, but I can’t or won’t. I have to fight this battle alone, I am not used to have someone under my skin, I won’t put my guards down, or share my darkest moments. I remember a friend said that I tend to use grand wording, because my feelings are quite huge. He didn’t know that he defined me, I am larger than life.

bcfc3ccd557300c0aba4aacfcef41486

Unknown artist


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