The Diary

I was watching “Silver Lining” when something struck me. Yup! My sister told me I have anger problems few years ago. Actually, it has been going on since I was a kid. At 3, I would wake up crying, intensely warmed up inside, kicking while in circling motion. Such morbid images of the past. In my dreams, I would run away exhaustingly from a population. I have no fuckin’ idea what they want but they all look like pigs to me. Since the invention of zombies, I’ve reflected on close physical resemblance.


I would go crazy when I couldn’t find something. I like to disturb their uncaring spirits so they can help me find my stuff. I would say the worst things you can hear. Maybe the truth in my perception. They would cry and I would feel guilty eventually. At 7, I punched a kid for stealing another kid’s bag. He was the bully kid everyone was scared of. In a boy-cut hair, condescending tone, I told him to give it back. But he didn’t. I came on to him and gave him a red eye. The next day, we were asked to bring our parents in school. Being the top in my class, I thought I was confident enough to tell his mom the truth. I didn’t get punished. Since then, I became untouchable.


Later on, the skills brought me to the corporate setting. I would tell my bosses to shut up when I’m not done talking. I paid the shipping manager’s cubicle a visit after ignoring my customer’s concern. The poor guy was waiting for hours in the warehouse for his samples. So I gave the responsible one a waking punch. Another incident was throwing a solid ball on my co-worker’s face for saying horrible things about my ex-boyfriend. Then another for slamming a hard-covered book at an associate’s head for harassing me. He did challenged me to a duel. Of course I would have accepted if he wasn’t pulled away.


I was exchanging sarcastic emails with vice presidents and managers hooked on the conversation. I walked away that day. My face was red and head physiologically reaching a temperature peak literally ready for some frying. Heart beats 10 pumps more which maybe explains why the face turns unusually flushing. Now the absurd consequences of my actions were priceless—they let me get away with it. They just let me be for some obscure personal intentions of the people involved. For a moment, I was again untouchable.


Because I was heedless of my safety and openly deprecating of what I thought was injustice, my explores took me to some misfits. By virtue of self enlightenment, I was impulsively taking account of observations. Consequently, it came down to bending the limits of experience—I was strangled by the neck, subjected to psychological humiliation, slapped, kicked, slammed on the floor, paddled, bound…There are really too many different instances to list down. The spectators and abusers find it odd that I never asked for help. It’s a precious dose to ponder for a lifetime. Don’t get me wrong. I fought to escape the opportunistic moment of mankind to become savage. I escaped to save myself from realizing my tendencies and to live so they can be forgiven.


Although my brilliant scheming could have been a panoramic masterpiece, the beast is killed everytime it comes back to life. After a period of isolation, I’ve forgiven myself too for its own doings. In solace unknown place in my head, the beast is killed along its feelings. The feelings are the fire that feed its motivation.


So, just as any of my momentous social experiments, I have last few wisdom to leave this world like those souls who had passed and cast away in the wind. These broken souls I have seen and heard will find themselves and their freedom. When they thought I’ve heard and seen them, I didn’t. I felt them. When they thought I know them from within, I was actually seeing myself.


Near death, you’d be thinking about where your life started. You’d be thinking about you’re very first laugh being a kid. When someone dies, you’d be thinking about that too. So when people tell me I don’t know about love, to me it is That. It is that feeling despite the worst pain ahead your lifetime. And my dream is, to give every kid I’ll know that experience.

Previous Post
Leave a comment

Hey! Thanks for dropping by. :)

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

  • Archives

  • I Love These Blogs!

  • BlogRankings

    Fashion & Style Blogs - Blog Rankings
  • Categories

  • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

  • Advertisements

...with stories, poetry, spirituality, motivation, breaking news, actuality, thoughts....


A great site

Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

Espen Stenersrød- From Pen To Heart

Jack Kerouac with a scent of Henry Vaughn

The Neighborhood

The Story within the Story

Gotta Find a Home

Conversations with Street People

Girly Dreams

"The hero of my tale, whom I love with all the power of my soul, whom I have tried to portray in all his beauty, who has been, is, and will be beautiful, is Truth." Leo Tolstoy

%d bloggers like this: