Overshadowed by shadow.

'There is an unspeakable evil in the world, you know it, and it's no use dwelling on the details of it. You must work a little harder. Just a little harder. Don't let it win.' - Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. 

There are things people would have been, there are things people would have said, would have done

had they existed as me in my existence. But no, not me. Nothing plays it's part here, no influence, nothing. I am dead, as dead as death which hangs as a shadow over others but which nothing can affect. 

My mind is heavy with a mindless burden and I keep no pretences of salvation anymore. You wanted me finished, you have it. But you won nothing, nobody wins with me. I call the shots, it's me. Always just me. 

The mirrored confusion.

At the risk of sounding like a complete narcissist I've become far too interested in my own appearance. Straightened hair everyday, eye makeup, and such. I was thinking yesterday about how that is all it ever really took to get people's glances at me. First I sort of liked it but then something struck me and dread filled up inside. Screw my mind and any talent, forget what I say, forget what ideas I have about the world, forget any accidental uniqueness but yeah 'hot' will suffice in their stead. I'm afraid I've begun living for the world, adopting their miserable ways of life, inside I burn because I was never meant for 'normal' 'customary' and 'this is how it's supposed to be.' I'm afraid I'm speeding down a road leading to conformity and looking in the mirror in the morning ain't feeling too bad. Gone are the times when I thought my brilliance was enough to excuse my hay-like hair, my fading complexion, my clear, clean eyes with nothing on them. Just more proof I've camouflaged into a world not built for people like me. I might look like a pretty orange peel on the outside but inside it's all rotty. I've been robbed of whatever the hell was used in place of a heart. Like the tiny, glowing sparks after a fire, remorse resides in the emptiness. It is calculated and understood and I've become far too good at hiding it, even from myself. The remains of my makeshift heart view the misery as something the old Bakhtawar knew jack about, the new one puts on a new pair of peep-toe heels and that pretty much takes care of it. I find myself wishing 2011 had never happened, but it did. And it ended too. Dark times lie ahead and sun-reflective cheek highlighter might just come in handy. Everything has an end, and there ain't no harm looking awesome when that happens.

The concept of time in soul years.

Sometimes we want something so badly we can't see it's not meant for us. That's one of the unconscious themes of my entire blog. That life is in constant motion, that there's no telling what great miracle or tragedy is just around the corner sneaky like a Clark Gable smile. That what you feel this one moment is inevitably lost when something more suiting walks by. All you have to do is turn and the entire dynamics have already changed, already been compromised, already been lost. Everything has a ready expiry date, which might not be death if you were thinking of getting comfortable. How true is the kansas song 'dust in the wind', we spend our whole lives clinging to all the wrong things, when you don't have to hold on, when you don't have to give life itself so much power over you. Maybe I say these things to make myself feel better, to remind myself of what I should feel rather than what I do. Maybe the other theme is the idea of eternity and that I will never change and that change is a relative concept. Why love others when you can live like an indifferent, loathing shrew? But hate stems from self-loathing and you can't spend something as transitory as existing with hate and indifference in your heart. My mother always says the only thing worse than intentional cruelty is indifference. And I can't become a shrew to protect myself, I'll just have to take my chances. We all need to be vulnerable every once in a while or else we'll miss out on people that we weren't looking for, except that we needed them more than we realized.