Who has this blog? Eye Hurting Blog? Well, you are at its page this very moment. Sometimes, I feel like the traffic of my thoughts is jammed and I find myself unable to write anything. I sit in front of my laptop and stare the screen. Then I clicked on a random post and read it sparingly. Then grabbing the meaning I hit like or don’t. This blog sometimes is just a pain in my eyes. Sometimes I am not a blogger. Just some lazy person who does not want to do anything.
What is it all about? Does the world need it? What if I don’t write and waste my time in front of TV browsing?
I really do not speak my mind all the time. My most “unpopular” posts are the one which I write after thinking a lot and weighing every word. On the other hand my popular posts are nothing just what my brain transfers to my fingers and they start jumping on the keyboard leaving the impressions on these pages.
What is it? I really do not know.
Unconditional love, warmth, glow in eyes, radiant faces and devotion; this can spread smile of satisfaction on your lips and a calmness in your heart but it is NONSENSE! Really. Love is a fantasy created by some French theatre artists. People loved to watch their plays about this hypothetical concept and they started liking it. Slowly, it became norm.
But Hello!!! It does not exist. If you have ever given someone that unconditional love you must be well aware of the heartache it causes.
It disturbs hearts, distresses brains, and stomach. I am sure people were not aware of the heartburn, acid refluxes and nausea before this French concept of… NO!!!! not French fries!!! I am talking about love here and your mind was wandering in the kitchen? Go and make those freaking potato chips. Eat, pray but DONT love.
1. I have been following this blog ( http://aopinionatedman.com/) for a very long time and I am a blogger for much longer time. I have seen a rapid growth in Harsh Reality’s “follow-ship” I have noticed the ongoing tremendous increase in the number of followers. It is the first reason of me hating OM. Why don’t I have such a number of followers?
2. The followers I talked about in the first point are not “mere followers” who clicked the “follow button” and sleeps for years or forgets that some freak write for them in his/her blog almost DAILY. Most of the Harsh Reality’s followers (I think nearly all of them ) are fans of OM. I am one those urgh! And I HATE it! I HATE to love to read HR’s posts.
3. The third and equally huge reason of my hatred is the number of haters OM has. Now, we don’t have any stats on the site stating the exact number of haters that site has, but OM frequently addresses the people who hate him. Being said that here, I mean, how come he has more haters then the total number of my followers! And I HATE it!!!!
4. I generally hate “me-posts” and I am genuinely not interested in anyone’s day or family or how an anniversary went etc. BUT I found myself reading the posts about his routine life and children etc. I love to read these posts on HR and guess what I HATE to love those.
5. Last but not the least, I am also a writer. English is my second language (so what? If I want to make my writing grammatically error free I re-check it) Why is he a better writer than me? Where he gets the easy flow in his writings from? I am kinda fan of this flawless free-flowing writing and I myself have written another whole post about the blog (https://baadseher.wordpress.com/2014/06/25/offended-by-harsh-reality/).
Note: Here I wanted to take it our of my heart and clean it. But I doubt this post declaring my hatred clearly. It more like a confession that I am a stronger fan.
Have you seen someone going mad with all the frustrations in life? We, humans sometimes act like a silkworm. We weave a shell around ourselves and if help does not arrive we die inside those cocoons. Not all have the courage to fight and break themselves free. The best thing about those small shelters is; they seem so secure because they are closed. But when they wrap the humans and the there is no way for air and light, the prisoner dies.
“What a nice Sunday morning!”, Myself woke up with shiny eyes.
“But it is Friday “, Me put on the spectacles.
“So what? Can you tell the day just by looking into the sky?”, Myself said in a lively tone.
“Uh! I dont like you! Go away! “, Me is always cranky. God knows why.
“You liberate yourself! Everyday is the same. You have imprisoned yourself by naming them”, Myself has some strange philosophies.
“Urgh! Lecture!” Me grinded teeth.
“Okay. Leave it. Let’s start tha day and get up. I wanna a cup of …tea..with lemon and honey”, Myself was already feeling the energy of a healthy start.
“Why? Are you sick?”, Me loves to be sarcastic.
Every morning this war is started. till now about more than 90% Me is winning. In this fight between Me and Myself, I am confused!
In the darkness spread because of the clouds I am unable to see whether it is day or night. I am just catching the words flying everywhere around me. Catching and putting them in the prison of this blog. My thoughts are going wild and losing the sense of reality. Where the reality is? What the truth was? Where Am I going? The darkness is all around and my soul is restless, flying here and there. Searching for a clue. Searching for a whole in the clouds in the hope of some light. But what if it is night already? What if the twinkling tiny bodies were not the thousands of stars but some fireflies?
Believe me when I say this. It is difficult to know the fact behind the lie that you believed was truth.
Sometimes we must take risks just to check how much we can fall. Surely, our anticipation through this check can go very wrong and it may turn out to be the most foolish act. Or just like calling a catastrophe before its time. But we should check. Ignorance is surely bliss but it is ignorance and ignorance it is.
Why not jump off the cliff just to check the depths we can fall into? wow! It is crazy. But how about going crazy sometimes or at least once in a lifetime.
How about loving the bad just to feel secure about the permanence of it. Why not hate good just because it can be temporary and it sure happens to be temporary. To feel the emptiness that treachery brings with it or just to feel the absence of love. You fall, you make mistakes, everyone does. Every heart bleeds.
Everyone searches for a shelter; a permanent shelter. God’s? Yes, only this shelter is permanent. But why do we need other humans? Because we can never be less human. Only a few chosen ones can be carefree when it comes to this love that we all are aware of. We, others, we can only enter into the shelter when life meets death; at the end.
Dancing with the music that everyone hears but not everyone listens. This connection is a blessing. Want to run away detaching every single contact with everything else. Take me away with you O my true self! Someone is calling me out loud in silence. A hand is spread wide in the whole sky. That’s how I fell … did you see? Yes, I fell on my knees but my heart bleed. wow! And then I saw in the reflection of the mud the blue sky and the extended hand. People will know. Everyone who have to know will know. God is calling me. I have to go risky. I have to fall. I have to open myself up for everything I am truly scared of. Scared becomes sacred when shuffled. Wow! Is he communicating with me? Or I have gone mad. I wanted to be mad. WowW just wow!
When there was nothing he was here and there and everywhere. Why he cannot fill the gap in myself. He can.
I don’t think I am ever going to make it. It comes and goes, comes and goes, comes and goes… what the hell is it? Is it some kind of talent or just musings of an ill mind. When the world kicks me I fell on paper and pen and scribble a damn piece of writing. I hate this part of me that comes in action when everything else seems to collapsed.
I want to be separated from me. Yes, I want to look at myself like someone else does. I want to understand myself. I want to be free. Free of every boundary. But these damn rules. I hate rules. I want a life with no order to follow from anyone. I want to feel my own right on myself. I want to look like I am. I do not want to use conditioners after shampoo. I want to live with my frizzy hair. I do not want a freckle free skin. I want this flawed skin. It is so me. I do not want to obey others. I want to go somewhere with no rules. I don’t want any strings attached. I want to go crazy and live like that. I want to be a writer, a musician, a teacher, an astronaut and then when I will find myself getting bored in the space I want to come back to earth and sit beside a lake. I want to read books. I want to tear the pages of the same books and make stencils. I want to color the things in my favorite shades. I want to take away all the colors. Make things black and white. I want to separate all the black from white, I want to eliminate the grey area. And then I want to splash colors on everything. I want to be wrong and be proud rather than be right and imprisoned. I am angry. I am angry with all the rules and civilizational development. I hate being civilized. I want to go nuts in the jungle and browse internet from a tree top. I am a character who desperately want to write its own story. I do not want to be written.
Days goes by and you become newer and newer day by day while the older you kept sliding away with the passing time. One of the strangest feeling is to somehow meet the ‘older you’. It sometimes happen unwillingly, but the same can be done by detaching yourself from this very moment for a while.
Take a deep breathe and sit back. Think. Go back some years ago. Who were you? What were you? What have you become now? How the circumstances have changed you? How stronger are you?
Meeting the old you is not easy. Believe me. In some aspects, you cannot make eye contact with your own self. While some of your choices and situations have made you proud of yourself.
The older you bring back a sense of familiarity. The feeling that many of us crave because no one likes uncertainty and this moment when you are reading this is full of only one thing: uncertainty.