A Break

Do you ever get the feeling that you need a break from existing? Do you ever feel the need to disappear from your consciousness just for a couple of days? Do you ever feel you are suffocating despite your normal respiratory rate? 

I need a break, from myself, from my mind, from my thoughts. Living inside this head is abnormal, unhealthy and definitely unbearable. I am torn between two possibilities, is it me that can't fall out of love with the self wreck, is destruction transfused in my blood? or maybe, my mind is a separate entity, an external part of myself? 

But how could it be? I've been always a strong believer of what Decarte said "I think, therefore I am", but lately my mind seems a tyrant and the rest of me is the oppressed nation, I dont know how to control it anymore, is it because I lost the tools or because it can not be governed anymore?

Unfortunately, I am just running from the cruel and heartbreaking truth, I am my mind, I am my thoughts, I am this anxiety, I am this depression, I am the reason and the one to hold responsable.

I need to be shut down and turned on again, this is what we all do when something breaks and doesnt work anymore, because I am not working anymore, I am not functioning right, I can not be operated. Sleep, right? but sadly, I only wake up when I fall asleep. My slumber is the only chance for my thoughts to attack me, benefit from my guards let down. 

How can I take a break from existing? How can I regain my will to live and survive and fight again? How can I fall in love with life and myself? Where can I learn the capacity to accept myself the way I am and stop the pursuit of changing it?  

Dark blossom

She was young, very young and extremly beautifull. She knew it, she knew that when she walks by boys, she never leaves them indifferent. And she can’t help herself but love it, this attention she gets, those stares and those head turns. 

I listen to her stories, with a very light ear, it entertains me sometimes and it aches me other times. Simply because i fear for her, that one day she will regret…that one day she will realizes that nobody helped her…and i also fear for myself, that one day I will regret not helping her at first place when it would have been too late.

As I saw her putting that thing between her lips, grabing it so tightly as it was her last chance to a better life, as the smoke approached my nostrils, I couldn’t help but feel helpless, bad and oddly dirty in my own skin. If I could delete this scene from my head, if I could undo this moment, I saw her dying in front on me, and I smiled to her face, I heard her drowning, and I decided to keep my mouth shut…she was screaming for help, in front of me, only in other words, and I was helpless, I was unreacheable, I was quite. I should’ve done anything, I chose to do nothing and watch her burn little by little as the smoke fill up the place.

I am looking at her as if I am looking at my own reflexion few years ago, true I’ve never tried to smoke but I had a different kind of addiction, my cigarette was way further than that. And it got to me, Did the upcoming generation change while I was asleep or did i just simply grow up ? She is just a victim among thousands, who should we blame ? Oblivion parents ? or shallow society ?

Black Hope

Hope is a murderer, it kills you slowly, savoring every moment of your death, as your lips stretch for your euphoric smile. Hope has the power to show the best future you have ever dreamt of, yet it comes to stab you in your back everytime you believe in it. 

Why can't I stop it? Why I keep on hoping when I know it would only break me to peices? Why I keep on expecting things to happen while I know it would only suck up all my will to live? 

Hope...They said is what you will need to overcome any stuggle, but how can I hope without expecting, hope seems like a hidden monster trapped within me, inside my mind, locked forever. 

I have tried to tame that monster, keep it at its cage, calm it, treat it, but it always comes to me when I am alone, it comes to me running with its open mouth, it devours me, it eats my flesh and drinks my blood, it leaves me...lifeless. 

How could a tought be that powerful and abusive to its owner? When will I stop the self-sabotage as I like to call? Those damaging thoughts have become my only "friends", I sleep with them and I wake up next to them, I can always count on them to worsen my world . 

But let us not forget, we are our number one hater, we shine at hating ourselves because we know that love is too much effort. 

Hello Internet! 
My sprinkle for the day is a story about a 20 yo girl, who commited a crime, a sin, a debauchery...
She fell in love. She was so confused about what love really meant, and when she finally get it, she realized that her world is not the same anymore, as if she was born again. 
What on earth is this demonic feel? What can we not do for the name of love? How can such a pure sense be that sinful in the eyes of others, even the closest of us? 
She weeped every night for her love to survive rejection, to fight battles, to resist hardships, she believed so much in her love as if it was a grace from God itself, she wished that her love would have been enough to move mountains and calm storms...
But one night, she felt helpless and outraged. Helpless because somehow the light she used to see throught the tunnel is getting duller at her sight, outraged because the source of her sarrow are the people who brought her to life, are the one who witnessed her first scream and breath, are the one who claimed once that their love is unconditionnal...But how can it be? Is harm justifed under the name of protection? Does loving unconditionnaly make us blind to the damages we can cause? 
And from all the thought traffic she had on her mind that night, one question was on repeat...is it a crime to fall in love?

First Sprinkle !

 Hello Internet!

It took me 4 years to actually realize one of my many dreams: create a blog, it might seem simple and a no-brainer, but I lacked the courage to finally set up an account and start publishing, I needed that push to eventually expand my audience, I knew it was time to step out of my confort zone. 

My passion is this, putting my thoughts into words, in the nicest way I can, and no one has the right to judge my little peices of art only because most of them start with a silly meaningless "Dear journal,".

It's not just a silly diary, it's a life journey, written and witnessed, it's the person you have become, it's remembering every struggle you faced and how you dealt with it. It's a warm embrace, it heals the soul and it's a compagnion in times of loneliness. 

Special thanks to the amazing human being who showed me this platform and helped me get it throught, I know he'll be reading this so shoutout to him! 

On that note, I hope to reach you soon Internet! 

Museum Dar Jamai, Meknes, Morocco