The Hearbreak

He's laying in his bed, motionless, the only prove of him still alive are the small, shallow chest movements. He was staring at the ceiling like it would tell him what to do, what to think and how to heal. 
That was it, he came up with a conclusion. He left his heart with her. This is the only justification he could find. After what she had put him thro
ught, he was still faithful to his feelings. 
But how? How can the devil look so pretty in our eyes? How can a heart be faithful to its destroyer? What kind of monster is love? 
He grew into this, he let the pain harden his heart, but every time he tried to forget, her ghost followed him in his dreams, her words was glued to his mind, and her absence became unbearable. She took everything and left him in flames to eat him up alive.
Give him back his heart, he doesn't want to live a captive between the walls of fades memories, every thought of her reduces ages from his life, but what can he do? 
How can the the most soft and gentle feel on earth be that agonizing? How do we heal a broken heart? 
Years passed by, and the wound was still fresh and bleeding. They said time is the medicine, they said time will make it better, but what they couldn't see was the cut got deeper every day, and time lost its magic unfortunately. 
He got used to the pain, this heartbreak was the only thing he had of her, and he wouldn't let it go.
Many doors are open for him, why he keeps on closing them? Many hands are extended towards him, why he keeps on rejecting them? It seems like the whole world is trying to make him move on, but he keeps on reminiscing? 
How can a heart be faithful to its destroyer...

Introduction, a proper one!

Nothing is perfect in life, I know you've heard that at least a million of time, but maybe this is what make life interesting to live, this is how the boredom is fought, we need the struggles and the hardships, we need the fights and the arguments. 
In today's sprinkle, I felt like giving an insight about who I am and why I created this blog. 
I am a 20 years old girl, a student (who is very stressed out about her finals right now by the way), and this is my passion. It took some time to dig in and find it, and it took me even more to finally publish my thoughts on a public platform.

A shrine/mosque in my hometown

My life is my main source of inspiration, I like to observe every aspect of it, peel every layer, structure every incident into a thought, and every thought into a hundred words. 
And this, dear people, doesn't come without a price to pay, I am an over-thinker, and as long as I can remember, my social interactions were never without an issue whatsoever. 
I talked earlier that it took me a while to discover my passion, well maybe I lied, I knew it, I knew writing made me breath, I knew that putting my thoughts into words was the biggest blessing among various ones, the only thing that made me postpone creating this platform is doubt. 
I doubted my skills, "I am not good enough", that sentence was hard to erase, I guess the time I took was for me to convince myself that I don't need fancy complicated words to write, and the uniqueness of my style is in its flaws.

When will I learn?

I thought I have learnt my lesson, I thought I would never repeat my mistakes, I trusted myself, I thought I matured, I thought I gained the ability to detach myself from expectations, but I was wrong.
It only comes and slaps you in the face once you believe too much in yourself, what kind of paradox is that? 
And this got me thinking, when will I learn? When will I learn that people are not here to be trusted? What type of hardship I must go throught to learn that? When will I stop expecting that much from total strangers, people who lost the meaning of friendship? 
When will I stop blaming and hating myself after every slight change of behavior, after every cold reply or small talk? When will I stop asking myself what have I done wrong? 
Maybe I am just too self centred to see the whole world and what's going on in people's life, but who isn't selfish? No matter how hard humans try, we all remain the most selfish creatures in the whole universe, and it's fine, if we don't think about ourselves who would? 
I needed and I will always need to feel special in someone's eyes, to be treated differentely, bring that little glimmer in their eyes, because that feeds my ego, it awfully nourrishes my selfishness, and makes me obtain that stupid validation that everyone seeks. 
I thought my solitude made me a bigger person, wiser, more aware of my instincts and my dark side, but it's fruitless, my monsters will always get over me, and I simply need to cope with them, make some sort of a deal, so that everyone can live in peace....

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?  

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. 

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