Big Deal

This year, I felt no Christmas spirit. I feel nothing special about New Year. And after all that, I don't think Birthdays are big deals anymore either. Time just flows. In specific about Birthdays, I think, we all love getting older till we are 18, then we pull a face about the ones that follow. New year is just a passing into the same cycle again. But we could celebrate it in June or September! And there really isn't any Christmas spirit. It doesn't matter. I bet Jesus was born some other time and people just celebrate it in Winter to make the season pass more easily. (In European and North American countries it gets bitterly cold. Christmas serves to lighten things up).

We just make a Big Deal about things.

Dread

It’s strange that 8 days before I turn 20, the same dread of growing up haunts me as it did 7 days before I turned 14. If I could, I would fight Time. But, I know this feeling will pass.

I want to know why I dread growing up. Why, despite in general, knowing and accepting life as it is, there are still moments like these before my birthday. The most obvious reason to me is probably that people now see and treat me as a woman, an adult, rather than as a child and person. They excuse me less, expect more, and totally disapprove when I don’t conform.

I’ll miss the wonder I used to cause when I said something profound (I would say these things as most children do; not because I was a genius but because I was a free child). I’ll miss being smarter than most people, now that everyone is expected to know more anyway. I’ll miss the freedom of laughing out loud without being judged negatively. When I reach the end of my fresh fruit juice, I’ll have to restrain myself from noisily sucking in the last few drops.

I look in the mirror. The innocent child is gone. I see a grown young woman. My problem is that I have a form. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter.

It’s not that I want my childhood back. I am prepared to face life, but I don’t want to do things that are expected of me merely because I’m of such and such an age. Men will be only friends. Learning will continue to be the main purpose and activity of my life.

Oh, so your issue is men? Well perhaps that is what started this dread because I’m not afraid of responsibility or growing ‘old and frail’. It must be what people expect me to feel. I can’t. I once thought I could but I don’t. Because it doesn’t exist. It’ is just the selfish gene which makes us that way. I wont give in.

Existence

I think that wasting time is criminal. Somehow, there has to be a purpose to everything. And when there is none, I feel like I don’t deserve to exist. They are the true criminals-those who waste time. So I take a book everywhere. Or I study people around me. Why certain faces are more pleasant than others. How so many people make the same gestures for the same things and what that reflects about them. My mind has to be running, wondering and analyzing.

I need to exist. I need to do or think to exist. That is my definition of me- my brain, my body. So is that who I am? Was Rene Descartes right about the criterion for existence? The mind dies with inactivity. That way, the body, the brain and everything dies.

What doesn’t, is the true self. Or rather, what doesn’t, isn’t the self. The self is an imaginary identity just like most others (just as people now acknowledge that nationality and religion are not real) in the world. Identity itself is only a means by which you reassure your existence. You identify your body in the mirror and learn mentally that that’s you. You grow a mind that sees itself as separate form other living and non-living things. Then society teaches you to see more differences. The mind is thus tuned to look for one’s uniqueness. You divide yourself form your mother first then the whole world.

With this division comes conflict. A fight to push ones own sense of reality into another’s. So conflict is the contradiction of different people’s sense of reality.

Our fear of death also arises from this fear of losing our self-made identity. Isn’t it disturbing to consider that in reality, nothing is. Not you. Not the room around you. Not the words you are reading. Not the world outside. Not thought. Nothing.

No wonder we fight. No wonder we are threatened by boredom. We want to prove our existence.

It

(written in 10th...)

It suffered times when It almost drowned

in the unruly sea, in wild tempests.

The sharp, icy jagged teeth of Cruelty

bit deeply into It.

The tearing claws of Anger slashed

powerfully at It.

It was being dragged through shrubs of

thorns that dug, stung

and scratched bitterly.

The ground was hard and cold

burnt by an evil green, raging fire.

Torture…but It held on…searching

in desperate hope for a glimpse of

Light

from the other end of what it hoped

was a tunnel, but was

a cave.

It finally extinguished

There was infinite darkness,

Loneliness,

Sorrow,

Overwhelming anguish and

Pain.

No more hope.

No more warmth.

Just an agonizing silence…

Would it be this way

Forever?

It didn’t want it so…anymore.

Who can enjoy pain?

Thinking that it is love?

It closed its eyes, believed it was

no more there, but in heaven.

On opening them, It saw a glow.

No, it was not a flame that could be

washed away.

No, It was no longer where it was before

This was not that cave but the

entrance to a garden.

Bright, full of light and beautiful

It dared to look back, felt no more pain.

This was real…the garden.

The place of truth and love,

not the cave of unending illusion.

I Hate Growing Up

27/12/01

My birthday is seven days away.

I’ll be thirteen only for seven more days.

After my birthday, I’ll be fourteen years old and

Never again will I be thirteen!

Every second, every minute increases

The time of my existence on earth

It increases my age.

Every second, every minute decreases

The time left on earth

It decreases my youth.

The devil called time is taking my

Childhood away.

Somebody stop it! Please!

I don’t want to grow up!

I don’t want to be old!

I don’t want to become frail and helpless

Like a dry leaf from a broken branch!

I don’t want to be loaded with responsibilities

Any more than already is.

I hate growing up.

I want to live my life again;

Change everything that I did.

Enjoy my innocent days!

Sorry Childhood,

I didn’t realize your value till now!

The truth dawns into my realization…

I regret wanting to grow up,

Just to watch movies.

I’m sorry I was mean to you!

I wonder why birthdays are celebrated

I think they should be mourned,

Every moment should be mourned,

Every second should be mourned.

For every sunset brings you

Closer and closer to death and

Further and further from youth!

Everyday that you live

Will never come back again.

I’ll never be seven days less than fourteen again!

After tonight, there’ll be one less day

To live!

Why?? Why?? Why do we have anything like time?

Why does every thing have to live and die?

Why?

Why does time have to pass by?

Why do things have to change so fast?

Does everyone know?

Can someone do something about it?

Please?!!?

(my my i have a lot to say to myself of the past...why so pessimistic? why talk as if from 13 i go straight to 80? theres so much to learn and age is just a natural process...so is death. my own death doesn't scare me anymore. others' seems too unreal and i don't understand it. there is only a conceptual understanding which relates death to sleep and perhaps life is a dream. and if i had a choice, i wouldn't change anything in my life... i am what i am today because of it all and its been an enriching experience. i like myself the way ive turned out and i know i keep growing and learning. but i agree...wanting to watch 15 + movies was a really bad reason to want to grow up...many of my other writtens talk about my present attitude to adulthood

but im sure many ppl feel this way at least a couple of times in life...but life is best lived when one takes the framework and limitations and works best accepting the inevitable and valuing and really living every second instead of mourning it)

Damage to the Heart

15/3/2

I don’t know what I’m doing

I don’t know what I’ve done.

I don’t know what is true and not,

I don’t know what is what.

There’s nothing I can do ‘cause

There’s nothing in my hands,

But there’s something wrong,

Life goes on with no-matter-what

My heart goes through it too.

It gets slashed, smashed, cracked, thrashed,

Kicked, scratched, beaten and bashed

But it doesn’t break.

Obsession and love

Attachment and affection,

The monsters and causes

Of all heart infections,

Horrible, terrible

Unimaginable!

Life is bad, life is cruel!

Life is ruthless, love is rue!

I go through it, its real to me.

It may seem trivial but

It’s as bad as can be!

Not far away as love seems to be,

The glass I’m looking through

Is playing tricks on me.

Yearning as I am for it,

Despising it now I,

Rather than to live like this

Any day I’d die. But

There’s more to live for,

That’s what people say.

What? What? What is there?

Nothing for me, no way!

It’s bad, it’s sad,

It’s driving me mad!

Rubbish, nonsensical

Loves painful and illogical.

The Path

8/3/02

From where we come, we go back

But where do we go in the middle?

We follow a path,

A path that is not there.

It is then that we realize that we are lost.

Our images shattered.

Where is that path?

The one that is not there?

Where is life?

That which is not real,

What is this?

Is it all a dream?

Then where are we?

Are we there?

Where is there?

Is there a there?

What is life?

Life is a path with ups and downs

Life is a land that has no path

We choose where we go.

But where do we go at all?

To chase the end is to

Chase your shadows head.

There is no end,

Nor a beginning.

Just a path,

That is not there.

Cloud no. 4

Once a piece is published, it is the readers' to interpret it how they see fit. Afterall, their interpretation is only a reflection of themselves.