It was better left in the dark.

Love. Love love love. What is love? I think the reason why i feel so unloved is because my idea of what love is is wrong. And life. life, sensations? you mean guilt right, and free thinking, you mean opposition and conflict, Last night sholdnt have happened, I was seven again, i was standing there and i heard the screaming and i knew i couldnt do anything, too fucking scared to call the police, because thats disloyal, too scared to move so i stood in the corner and said stop, please leave her alone, she didnt mean, move the fuck away, but it didnt work, i was ignored, again, eighteen, a lil taller, a lil fatter, a bit smarter but i did the same thing. So why is this in the prose section, because i need to write it. and where else to go, captaincynic, i may not be miss wise word but ive been around for three years. and who else to tell anyways because nobody wants to know ure shit, we have our problems man, deal with it, its not a problem, its okay, its fine, just move on, deal with it again and again and again and again, and udont even have to read it, u can turn it over and roll your eyes and say another person just complaing and never doing anything, always complainig about the world and not themselves, well just dont read it, its so much simpler for u because u can click it away, so just do, i probably would.
why should it be okay for her to threaten me with a vase, because she gave birth to me?, to try to kick my leg and push me down the stair, so i threw the vase, i loved it how it broken, it was so awkward, because it didnt smash elegantly, it just went thud and nasty smelling water came out from the vase with my dead roses that diid just slowly die, i couldnt stop myself, i said dont talk to me, dont ask me, dont, not now but no, lets talk through this so my voice rose so high and it couldnt go down no matter what, and i just let it go, and it was so awful, and i couldnt stop crying, and my body was shaking as i said the same thing again and again, when will it end, when will it end, when when when when when when when, but what i was saying wasnr when but i cant even write what i was wanting to happen. so i left the room, i said right fuck u, dont talk to me you bitch, like the clean mouthed person i am, so i stood and told her to leave me alone, shes not my mother by the way, oh no shes too frail and hurt in the corner, what did she do, she tried to scare me, ran at me, did i run away, no, i ran right into it, slammed my entire body against hers, yeah full body slam, and we banged into the wall, and i may have been the one who dropped down the stairs later but i made my point. and dad, he put his arms around me and led me upstairs, and this gesture made me cry even harder, i was crying because i was seven, i was crying because when one monster stopped the other came and took her place, and its like a circle, that never ends, it was then, and now and in the future, and when i need support, and ill get into a relatipnship that wont work, and it will be like history repeating itself...again and again and again. and again. and theres no one, nobody to call, but god, u know he was always there, whennobody else was, but even hes died, and i cremated him, and i dishonoured his memory and i scattered his ashes on the road and left marks on my hand. The one good thing i had i destroyed it.

Where do i go from here, it will be okay, it always is, it gets better as something else starts and takes its place, it was fine, it is fine, its life, its mine, take it or leave it.

Very raw and true. This reminds me of a poet I saw a couple of weeks ago. It has the same realness and need to be said. This is the best writing I've read from you.

"and udont even have to read it, u can turn it over and roll your eyes and say another person just complaing and never doing anything, always complainig about the world and not themselves, well just dont read it, its so much simpler for u because u can click it away, so just do, i probably would."

I feel like you're addressing me there in reaction to my post about world peace. I read what you said before you deleted it the other day. It made me reread what I said and I realized how my post was in itself a complaint. Hypocritical.

I know you read it, because i saw that you had gone into it before i deleted it. I cant remember why i deleted it, i think i was going to add to it but then i saw that you had read it and then just removed it. Yes, you are right, part of that did come from the post you posted but i wasnt adressing you personally but it was the attitude i was aiming at, one that i have seen in others and myself, as my friend said recently to me that this site is about bettering ourselves and growing as people, therefore im glad that you took something positive from what i wrote and i did take something positive from yours, and that is all that matters.

Thank you.

Perhaps i ask to much, it isnt right to expect people to be a cartain way, i mean your expectation of who they should be doesnt change who they are right? 'Im not taking her '

Thats what he said, im not taking her, he didnt reply to me last night, i said, nobody is the bad guy, i wasnt blaming him, i said i love you and he didnt reply...how could i be so sensitive, how could i be so forgiving, so loving, so affectionate, how could i be so vulnerable? I was pleased with myself, i was tough, i didnt miss them, i was reclusive, i thought doing all that would save me the emotional pain of rejection were i to ever breathe in the wrong direction, but i was wrong.
Lets think, why do i have a lump in my throat? ive said it before just because you were led to believe that there is such a thing as unconditional love doesnt mean it exists, and for you to apply that to your father is stupid. He has unconditional love for the queen of the damned, but not you. And if he loves you he has no intention of showing it. What have you done but waste boarding school money by throwing your islamic eduaction away, what else have you done but been naughty at school, threatened with suspensions every month, and untill you were expelled, like she said to me even they didnt want you anymore, its you, you are like cancer, nobody cares about your grades, your mind, your spirit, how well did you conform? And those who care, where are they now?
How much honour do you give your parents? How long can you stay a virgin, how much respect can you pay to your husband, how pure can you be? For how long can you keep rumours away from yourself, for how long?

Can you do it? Can you stop swearing, yes, can you never listen to music, yes, can you not go out with boys, yes, can you control yourself, yes, can you pray, fast, do islamic classes at home, dress accordingly, can you, how can you not, how? Look at what we did for you, we sent you to a private school though it was hard for us, we gave you money, we loved you, cant you do this for us now? You are so selfish, so so selfish. so ungrateful, so disrespectful, such a waste. What a waste. oh woe, Oh allah i think something has happened to my daughter, oh allah how could this be? Oh allah now who will control her, oh allah may her legs break, oh allah may insects eat at her skin, oh allah how she has shamed me, oh allah, okay she hasnt done anything yet but she will, i can feel it so ill beat her so she wont dare, okay i wont beat her, ill just verbally beat her, mental abuse isnt punishable right?

How Muhammed would turn in his grave, on that day he will be so ashamed, so ashamed of the woman who used his pure lie against her own daughter.

Respect, if she was to define it is to cower at her feet, to jump when she threatens you, to take the abuse, take the swears, take it, take it you slut, whore, bitch, prostitute, mother fucker, sister fucker, father fucker, and anything else digusting i can think of. oh yeah, theres pig fucker too.

I ask too much, i ask for him to say well done, good girl, im glad you got 95/105 in an exam you were so worried about, im proud of you, oh the college chose you out of all students to represent them at the conferance with the met police, that is a great oppurtunity, i think your hair looks nice today, oh so how was college, what happened, whats your teachers name, when is your school play, whens the parents evening, oh did your tooth fall out, how? how many milk teeth do you have left?
He tells me he loves me, not via his actions but verbally atleast, he never tells me he is proud though, and never shows it. He did that one time, when was it, I got A in arabic and he smiled at me, hugged me and said you are just like my sister.
Do you love me aba? of course i do. I always will, you are my daughter, my darling.

If you expect too much you will always be unsatisfied, so breathe in, and appreciate that you have lived to read this, not because of my post of course, but because life gave you time, and everyone thought she was so cruel.

There was a case study of a girl whos father strapped her to a chair, he didnt let her leave the room, he thought she was retarded and didnt want her to go through the schooling.

She never learnt how to speak.

I feel such compassion and empathy, to think that anyone should have to go through anything like this, it chills me inside. I try to feel what you must be feeling, as I always have, so that I can get some glimpse of your situation, but to even imagine hurts too much and my psyche recoils in pain.

This world is a cruel place, and honest, unconditional love is hard to find. Some of us take it for granted because it is as accessible as our parents that we may see everyday.

Then you read something like this, and you realize that maybe you aren't so blessed, and that to truly be blessed, you need to share that gift.

I pray that you will find the love you deserve. I pray that you will be treated as a princess in the near future and that you grow to be a queen. More than anything I pray that you know no matter what happens, people will be there for you.

Despite how many people discourage you with a message of hate, you will always have people who love you, always have people who care, and if you have a hard time seeing those people than you should open your eyes to the shadows around you. You'll find them.

It will be fine. Its ok, i receive love from my family members, but unconditional is another thing, its without condition, but thats life, when you hurt people they still love you perhaps but they wont show it, and so i have hurt my father, so i carry some of the burden. Unconditional love, i believe it is a myth. so what am i saying, im saying love me, show me you love me even if im not the way you want me to be, i expect to much too soon, its a deep wound i made and time is a great healer.

I just have alot of deep issues with them, because of my experiences, my biases, my inabiity to obey. people show love in different ways, some cannot, some dont love you but culture and society will never allow that to be admitted publicly, its a dark secret, that if revealed would pollute the air, clog the heart and slowly kill the soul. Thank you fire, you wont be able to understand it untill you go through it, and i would rather you never understood it. I post it here, btw, to let it out, but also to deduct lessons from it whilst speaking about it, i am not self pitying, maybe i am, but i would hate that to be the case. I hope it will make me a better person, and pschological research can kiss my ass about me being more likey to have issues in the future, cant argue with those bastards, its like they are gods. Maybe it is for people to understand a little about me, maybe for me to understand myself, when you go through it alone in your head it becomes terrifyingly insane.

Wait.

I was walking home today, i was thinking about how much i was craving chinese noodles, and about his so called clumsy hands when i realised what i had done, i had stepped on a yellow flower, my ignorance limits me, i dont know its name, but i didnt just step on this flower, i slowly moved the head off the grass, it was on the edge, right at the end of the grass, and i stepped on it, i put my foot down and pulled my foot backwards, so its went from yellow to white, and i was still smiling to myself thinking about the fact that he kept referring to that gorilla as a bloody monkey, and then i realised what i had done and was horrified.
I was so deep in my thoughts, in me that i didnt realise what i was doing, how i killed this flower, i wasnt thinking straight, i didnt mean it, i wish i hadnt done it, its not that im some pansy flower loving looney, its that i wasnt in control of my body. I forgot what i was doing, so blind by my thoughts, my feelings, and thats what it must be like. They must be so sure, so out of control, because im sure if they knew, if they understood what it felt like they would stop. And i, If i knew what it felt like, if i wasnt so lost in my own self inflicted sorrows I wouldnt have done what i did. Had i thought, had i waited, had i not been so intoxicated by vain desires i hope that i would have had the sense, good charecter and self control to have prevented so much agony. Had i not resented the control, had i not wanted to taste life, had i been content, had i just accepted who i am, Had i loved her enough, if only i loved her enough...But now the poison has spread, and it may not be poison but it might as well be.

Its a terrifying thing to go through rough times alone. I prefer to do it that way though. Even though I like to go through it alone there is something calming about writing it all down. There is a reassurance that you get by putting it somewhere others can read regardless of if they do or not.

I had never thought of stepping on a flower quite in that way before, but in a sense, i guess i've felt that before too. Not the regret and remorse, but the fact that I have the power over it to bend it where I desire, and to step on it and obliterate it, how could I have been so blind to what I was doing? How could I have been so naive to not see the behavior I was promoting? You've opened my eyes.

I must admit that through writing and reading what you you've (or anyone) does certainly helps with a lot of self realizations, sometimes it takes actually seeing the words to know what you're going to do with them.

Well the reason i have posted it here is because i have grown to love captaincynic, perhaps its just a habit, its been in my life for a while, and i trust it even though its before the whole world, nobody can hurt you online, well they can, but i dont believe they will here. I was revising for my exams and i just came online to see if i received any emails and fire, thank you, you made my evening, the fact that i was able to affect a single person means alot to me. I do like to deal with it myself but i realised that when i did that i have insane irrational thoughts, i can get quite irrational but perhaps thats because i dont like the conclusions im concluding, whilst writing what i have in these past 2 days i have realised realities that i didnt before. Sometimes you need to talk aloud and thats what i have done, but because i know it is before so many people i am more conscious of myself, in not making myself the victim, even if i appear like i do that, know that in my mind i am not.

Ill return to my revision now. Good evening folks.

It was this, she said to me, it gave birth to the shaytaan in your mind. What was it?

Music.
Poetry.
Art.
Sound.
Touch.
Observation.
Realisation.
And then it just dawned on me this is the end, and the end is here.

I really dont care if they judge you, i dont care any more. Who are they? The man who works at homebase, the woman i passed by in the street, the dog walker who doesnt seem to exist in our society? Dont you ever feel extreme disgust for yourself? How you fall quickly in and out of love with every person you meet or how you tell the truth to everyone but yourself? Or how damn childish you can be, sudden bursts of rage, long periods of tormented silence. I often wonder about you, what was the point of you taking up space, as if you cheated some worthy person of their life. When somebody needs love so much and then is offered it, then has the stupidity to reject it, do you possess words concise enough to explain it? I understand it but i cant seem to be able to put you out of your misery.

Love

Is this what love is? It was like ice against warm skin.

Extreme pain, white jealousy, feelings of pure pleasure, physical joy, mental freedom, bravery.

Ha, where am I?
And where do i go from here, mr z told me not to start the sentance with and, hmmmmmmmmmmmm okay sir. I know what torments me so much, its that i have not come to terms with that life is not predictable, that nobody will tell me what will happen and i fear the worst so much it destroys the good today. Ha ha, what a stupid thing to do, oh silly me, oh dear oh dear child.... I have asked you Adam and you David, you dont know how i love you, my my such a statement, i believe its the studying, no of course not, and i have wanted to know what will happen, who will i be?, but alas, listen to me her, me not them, nobody knows, and you can let it torment you or you can embrace it, its your choice, its your call, you are God. Didnt you realise, you are God, *smiles and says ohhh, sheepish shrug* and they are God *huh them*, what is god, its that well disguised part of me that is scared of life. Scared to jump without looking, so cautious, so scared, too worried, oh how it differs for all of us, so listen to my tuppence worth and bite your tongue and bleed for all i care, God, Allah, as i knew him, whys it a him anyways, her, roses wanted it to be a woman, roses really likes women, i wonder why.. oh life is like a song, forget god, hes dead.
HIstory repeats itself, will i be a hero, will i be an average joe, will i create disorder, will i undertake a sex change, for christs sake lol nobody knows... But it bothers me too much, who will i become, and this is why i am apprehensive of the situations i am present in, all it does it shape my future anyways... say what you please, i believe it. Think, jesus think, stop walking the streets like a mindless fool, it may be painful, it may torment you, but it will create who you will become and atleast this way you have some say in it, rather than just being a product of social factors, inevitably you are, but atleast try to influence the inevitable process in which you are developed. Why? Well do you have a dream, a vision, if the answers yes dont you want to see it come true or would you rather assist the vision of some modern prospero? If the answers no, ask yourself why. If you dont care, oh then you are a mindless fool, here have a fruit pastel, lets watch spongebob. Offensive, and what?

As each day painfully breaks its way into the next slowly all the hope I had of a life without insanity commits suicide and lies in a pool of blood and vomit at my feet. I wittness extreme cruelties that, despite that I for some strange reason potray myself as sadistic, pain me, slash my skin and then seizes the throne upon my blood. It leaves a deep imprint within that which i am, my soul? Who cares, at this moment it does not matter, all I know is that soon somebody will die, i dont know who, but they will, it wont be me, and it wont be you, but it will be them, and I will stand tomorrow at the trainstation and fantasize sickly about a forbidden romance, about a way out, about a death, so many deaths, I have died so many times, Once it was at in his arms, oh how I lusted after that death, and then it was an accident, but murder, i have not perhaps died so many times but been victim to murder, victim, no, you deserved it, always deserving it, always. It was justified then, what did you do again? i cant remember but it must have been wrong, for it... really it hurt. I am listening to Roxanne and wondering would i have been happier as a french whore? Its just a thought, sent to private school, protected from drugs, sex, parties, no come on, talk talk, what do you have to live for? Why not die tomorrow? Because please listen to me, dont do anything rash, its not your sorrow, its not your pain, you are wittnessing somebody elses depression, dont make it your own, you have done this your whole life, watching violence does not give you physcial scars, it never made your blood flow, it was theirs, not yours. Dont seek the tragedy of others, why does your mind do that? Why do you think? because I have nothing else. If insanity does not leave me insane it will leave me bruised but bruises heal right?