A Confession and a Continuation: Day Eleven and Day One

The Eleventh of April, 2018.

There is no reason to start today. Therefore, I shall.

I wrote those two lines just after midnight last night, because I’d had enough of nothing. Then, almost as expected, came the ringing call with the last syllable of my name draaaaaaaaaaaaawn out, for the seventh time in twenty minutes, from the living room. My father, summoning me again, to hand him a black pen from the table four feet to his left.

The reason I stopped writing. The reason I stopped ‘stopped writing’.

Over the last year, the frequency of my posts has slowed down. The longer I am at home, the lesser time I am ‘alotted’ for myself. The nearly overwhelming feelings of uselessness, stagnation, and mental decay I struggle with, while being told how useless I am, what a failure I am, all of these words, have been taking large bites out of the words I wanted to write. The words I am kept being pushed back, and back, and further back, till they stopped trying to come out.

I stopped writing, because I couldn’t. I stopped trying to write, because I couldn’t. Even that little time of me for myself, was taken away. August became November became April. I don’t know what I have done these last few months. It was probably nothing. Because these last few months, I have felt nothing.

I have been a nothing. I think I am a nothing now. When not a complete nothing, at least a little nothing.

I turned twenty eight. I resolved my citizenship issue. I studied for exams I won’t be writing. I played surrogate housekeeper and peacemaker and resident doormat at home. I did what  I always did- take blame. Take responsibility for actions that weren’t mine. Handle the mood swings of the people supposedly my elders. I played nursemaid and resentful grateful. I played parts and roles and forgot my face when I slept at night.

This time last year, I was a doctor with no country to belong to, and no civil rights to speak of. I have to wonder, which the more nothing was. The one where I didn’t belong, and was? Or the one where I belong, but am not.

One nothing is not like the other.

One nothing was emptier.

I woke up yesterday afternoon. I was walking to the supermarket, and I stopped on the sidewalk, holding eggs and a liter of milk, and I woke up. I could feel cobwebs fluttering in my mind, regurgitating uninspired remnants of something I wish I’d written down, even if it was only some angry words of choice. Words, as it turns out, are important. I stopped speaking and that didn’t matter, but  I stopped writing, and I forgot how to breathe out. It was choking me. I woke up yesterday, and I exhaled. I sat down last night, and wrote the two lines at the top of this page. Then I was called away. Like I was called away in this moment, to call someone up, when the phone was next to him. The difference between today and every other day before this, at least in the last six months, was that I came back.

Because not writing had been hurting me so long that I’d stopped realising the source of this particular pain. Because I am my words, and maybe that’s the only existence I have, the only trace I’ll leave behind in a world where I am told that I AM NOTHING at least twice a day, where I’m so inconsequential, that I’ve taken to feeding crows for some company. I was staring at the calendar while writing checks for my father this morning, and it dawned upon me that ten days of NaPoWriMo had passed already. This is the first year that I missed it, since I started blogging. But not in its entirety. Not just yet.

This nothing’s still got something left. I warn you that it’s old. It’s everything I’ve said multiple times before, but I will say it again, even if only to say it.

I will not stop saying it. Even if takes a calendar and a dim reminder for cement bills to be paid on the fifteenth of April to do it. Every time that I forget, I will remember.

And I will write. Even if I’m writing old nothings, I’ll write.

A Little Nothing     

I am a Nothing,
or so I’m told
A waste of space that’s
twenty eight years old

I’m a big Zero
They like to repeat
I’m worth less than
the food I eat

They call me buffalo
They don’t use my name
I don’t mind anymore, I
answer just the same

My mealtimes are totalled
in calories
I’m given a thousand more
than necessary.

But like a good girl
I clean my whole plate
Wash everyone’s dishes
but not my own face

I wear wrinkled clothes and
don’t comb my hair
So that men don’t notice
a woman’s even there

I keep my voice down
I act like I’m dead
I’m quiet and bitter
I’m words in my head

I’m a little nothing
short and stout
Here are my fingers
Here is my mouth

Hands longing to be held
Lips that no longer kiss
Rusty rhyme and stagnation
A throatful of risks

I’m a little nothing
As I’m often told
An ugly little cow
forgotten fourfold

They like to pretend
that they can’t see
Except that I know
They’re afraid of me

That I’ll walk out
That I’ll realise
My chains lie in pieces
I’m in sight of my prize

I keep my head down
I work, and I watch
One day they’ll fall careless
And I’ll be gone

And I won’t even care
If they never see
I was and always will be
Something
Something free

Yusra
11.04.2018

Day Eleven of NaPoWriMo. I won’t stop writing.

I love  you all. ❤

-Yusra

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All Of Us Pagans Cry

I am seeking, again

The restlessness shimmers

under my skin

I walk in the sun, reflective

Look at my hands- they darken

As the heat of realization

effectively

Beats every frivolity out of me

Burnt tongues and

singed fingertips

And the bare, bleached bones

Floating in the meandering Styx

-This is my day

Thus I answer my own question,

Why I seek refuge in the

Nothingnesses, the recesses of night

By dawn, I am unsettled again

The thought wanders stray,

into a vein

These tattooed bands of

radiance in the sunlight

sift

Reality drifts –

The heat hazes

My lips twitch

I shy from coherence

Consummation fades

A lone raindrop falls from the sky

Oh, all of us pagans cry

All of Us Pagans Cry

©️ Yusra

02.03.2018

And Then, I Flew

I’m behind on my words. I fell off the world for a few weeks.

I didn’t fall back on love.

Nothing to do with the paper-heart explosion every shop has turned into these days, but- I love y’all so. ❤️

Hugs and cookies, always

~ Y

I Saw You Today

I saw you today, in a shop window

In that blue button up I recognized

that always turned your eyes

into the green of a forest floor

I didn’t get close enough to

see them, this time

I was just passing by

I only got close enough to realize

that you’re still painfully handsome

That I loved you then,

back in that short-lived when,

and I still do

But

I’ll probably never get close enough

to love you

I Saw You Today

©yusra

23.11.2017

.

I Saw You Today. It was the oddest thing. The last drunken night I’d sought you out, just for a look at your happy, put together life, came rushing back to me, coloring my cheeks with the blush of a girl who knows shame and regret, and wistfulness in the same mouthful. You stood out then. You stand out now. I saw your reflection in the shop window as I walked past. I was too scared to stop. Too scared to turn around and look again. Too far away when I remembered that you had no business being in my part of town.

Too cynical to even think for a moment, that you could’ve come for me. That ship sailed, hit an iceberg and split into two, and sank to the bottom of an ocean of unnameable horrors, where the skeletons of our lives are buried restlessly, only to ripple in fierce storms.

Storms. You used to flinch at thunder.

It was the most amusing thing, the first time you did it. A full grown man, one as magnificent as you laying next to my humble limbs, flinching at the sounds crackling sky. I don’t even remember how you wrapped your long limbs around me that night. In retrospect, we were a pair of the oddest jigsaw puzzle pieces that ever fit. I don’t remember how I even slept that night, half suffocated under your weight.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding. I remember. Every time I reach the bottom of a glass I remember. That. How your hair was straw colored in the sunshine, and brown when you walked out of the shower. How your eyes switched so crazily quick between green and brown that I could always tell what you’re thinking. I want to see them change color for me, flicker to that dark green one more time at me, I want to see your eyes and to be able reach up to you on my tip toes again.

But I can’t. Because I saw you today, and I know that you’re a stranger. And all I am, is lost in reflection.

——————————————————–

Das All, für J. Refraction is Real too.

——————————————————-

Good Monday Morning, my lovelies! ❤️

Membranes

Reality, as a membrane

is so very thin

It stretches over my probing fingers

I breach the taut whisper

And in the moment it

replaces my skin

pushing into nonexistence, across

The barrier I blindly feel

between time and place, flaws

ripple, faults splinter, I

cannot hear the walls implode

My middle ear collapses and

I pause on the lip, pigeon toed

Perched on the rift

Jumping adrift

hanging out of a wound in the sky

I can almost touch you- almost

Maybe just one step more?

-Where does this road go?

Membranes

16.11.2017

.

Where does this road go? Hang me from the torn clouds, string me up from the stars, rip a hole in the fabric of reality, I pushed myself face first into the unknown for you and I don’t even know where you are. Somewhere at a desk, where the window on the right has a potted plant with a drooping yellow flower, you’re leaning back in your chair, letting the noise of the room wash over you like the cold processed air spewing from the vent across the fat girl’s glittery table- it fills your ears, it’s filling your lungs, it’s filling your eyes, you choose not to care. Once upon a time, you tore the fabric of reality for me. You laughed and you shredded the meanings of what I held true into pieces into words and fantasies and utter absurdity. And then you shut the door. Your ink blue fingers flowed back together and poured themselves into crevices I hadn’t dared to expose.

Can you blame me, for tearing my mind apart, breaking windows into every wall I meet? Can you blame me for setting fire to every road behind me, looking for you, and trying to understand why I even do?

Wait. Here’s a fork. Where does this road go? .

.

.

.

.

Membranes | yusra

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And the cookies. Love. ❤️

Secant Lines Are Squared

Stand, on the other side of the world

Raise your fingers, touch my face

– No, that makes no sense

But it once did

It once did

You made more sense to me than

Biology and Physics

When you love me again

When you love me at all

These tangents will fall

Just raise your eyes to me,

and we will be

The opposite of a circle.

‘Secant Lines Are Squared’

Yusra,

12.11.2017.

Das All, für J.

Alles für ewig und weiter.

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