You Could Be Here

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Founders Keepers

Losing is among the many reasons that can make a person unhappy. If what's lost carries a lot of memories, or was given by someone dear, especially. When it's lost, the physical association of the memory is lost too. That's why some pillows, teddy bears, blankets or books grow old with their owner.

Normally parting with physical memories makes people sad. Some people hold on to memories forever because sometimes only memories remain while other things get lost over time.

Then you ask, "Can you be sad losing something that didn't belong to you?"

Nope. I mean, how can you lose something; 

if you didn't own it from the start?


#kelabjiwaluka #losing

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Nightmares.

I take responsibility for not succeeding in making yesterday good for myself and people around me. So later I tried to reduce some bit from my pile of works to redirect my focus. Then I went to bed and woke up from the usual kind of nightmares I haven't had for some time. I see appalling sights. Bad ones. My nightmares are a perfect summary of devastation. I wanted to cry and let my feelings out in my prayer, but I haven't been able to cry despite wanting to so badly. I know I've been sad and disappointed. I know only my Creator knows best. And so I never bothered explaining my thoughts to people. In every passing moment, the less I mind, the harder justifying myself became for me. 


I think about people whom I spent many happy days with. I think about how I've tried making my days during the break fulfilling for my mother, too. I miss many people all the time. I wonder if they miss me the same. But I learned that the ones who

miss me back are obviously the ones who kept in touch. At this point I'm also thankful if someone remembers me in their prayers like I try to. Missing people and being too afraid to be hurt with made-up "Ohhh I miss you too!!" *emoticons-stickers-what not* consumed me a little bit too much. I kept the longing to myself. I notice how this had made me appear careless-even boastful, people say. As if I never cared. From my side, I fail in every attempt to get my thoughts across. Rather, I drown myself in them. I can't always be right, I tell myself.


A few days ago, I made this to comfort myself. 



"Why do you worry about loneliness, it's not like when you die they're gonna bury with you a company. Learn instead to be contended. For all that you have, alhamdulillah." 


And for all that you don't, too, alhamdulillah. I should've written this as well. Because you and me are made and understood best by the One who created us, none other.


How much have we tried understanding people before in our minds quietly committing them with crimes they mightn't have done?