When It Doesn't Make Sense To Not Be Alone

Disclaimer: if you know him, you'll know that even the title of this entry is inspired by Charles Bukowski.

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Relationships, marriages, friendships.. all those are mere institutions.
They don't define love. Love is a different story.
And when the exigency of my suffocated heart demanded love,
I sought it.
I found it at the most wrongful place during the worst time in a wrong person,
and I don't exactly regret it, but I can't exactly survive it anymore.
I remember each and every instance that makes me now think that it doesn't make sense
for me to not be alone..
Why did I look for you? Why did I allow you to penetrate my strong armor that I kept to shield my skin, to protect my pride?
I have absolutely no answer.
And having found you 
introduced me to parts of myself that I never encountered before:
Altruism - I would've eclipsed my life to give yours brightness
Aggression - I could've killed to ensure your safety
Acceptance - I could've been offered to lie on silk and still choose to roll in dust with you
Affection - only you would've mattered
But having found you also
wakes me up each and every night
hungry for consideration, thirsty for closure..
And I ask myself, don't you at least want to clear your conscience?
You probably don't, or else..
You wouldn't thoughtlessly throw words you never meant,
words you couldn't measure their momentum..
words that completely absorbed me
words to which I was attentive, not knowing that I shouldn't have considered.. 
You wouldn't withdraw from all kinds of communication 
after you made me feel secure.
And although I believed that you over-consumed me, I do realize I was the one who over-committed herself
to an undefined situation that you selfishly coated with momentary pleasure
that permanently scarred me.

Wild, Intimate Frenzy

I've diverged from writing stories since I'm currently writing a book that revolves around sociopolitical issues. The dense and research-based book consumed me in a way that I could not bring myself to write fictions at all. However, I'm giving myself some time for a needed break and here I am with a story - Hope you enjoy it!
DISCLAIMER: not suitable for kids lol!
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In a cold night on the coastal land overlooking the Pacific ocean, Alice found her zen after long exhausting months of chaos and damage. Totally focusing on balancing her mind, body, and soul, she had no plans to involve others in her life.. not after she achieved this relaxed and balanced state of being. On her birthday, however, she had second thoughts about her solitude. Alice could not risk a new relationship though ..

"Although I worked so hard to recompose myself, I am convinced that companionship is the highest virtue in this life. Adam and Eve, a lion and its lioness.. life is all about pairing up with someone to not only survive but to ensure the stability of it. But I cannot imagine myself with anyone anymore.. not after the years I devoted to Jake." Alice thought to herself.

And on that same night, Jake spoke to her. Alice knew how unapologetic Jake was, how unworthy of her time, how unfit.. But she always thought that no one else could know her better and it was going to be exhausting to start over with someone else. Jake was convenient, not the best.

For few days, she gave sorting it out with Jake a thought.. but her thought process got interrupted by an unforeseen incident.

As she was walking on the beach, she bumped into a guy who said something inaudible. Alice was ultimately curious.. she knew he said something about her, she just didn't know what it was. She looked the guy straight in his eyes and asked if he could repeat what he said .. he didn't. Alice, forgetting about what happened, resorted to slot machines, which were her own Xanax. She, however, started to oddly lose her focus. It was that incident on the beach showing up in the back of her mind again.. She thought it wasn't substantial but a voice inside her told her otherwise. It wasn't long until her friend showed up and told her that the same person Alice met on the beach was asking for her number. It was a lot for Alice to process - "what's this coincidence!" she thought. She gave him her number with no second thoughts. She believed that there was something special about what could be just a simple coincidence. As soon as she reached home, Alice rushed to charge her phone to see if he spoke to her. He did. And they conversed for hours.. finding out uncanny facts. They both knew the same people. They both had the same level of intellect, which was a big concern for Alice who had high standards when it came to that. Even though their conversations were through a screen for some time, Alice could feel Morgan's force field attracting her with its full magnetic power. She couldn't even hint at the fact that her interest in him was intensifying, as that would make her look illogical and somewhat insane. She wanted to see him again just so she could test herself around him and know if how she felt was actual or simply delusional. He surprisingly invited her to his place when she least expected it. Alice, a little bit conservative and reserved, thought it was a bad idea.. but she also didn't want to reject him. 

Alice's POV: 

"I still remember every little detail.. As he was giving me directions to his place, my heart was beating at the speed of light.. I admit I thought about going back home, but there was this urge in me that kept pushing me forward.. walking me to him. I remember getting lost and finding him waiting for me in an alley. I didn't know that man at all and yet I spontaneously trusted my mere desires.. We took the elevator and we weren't alone, which worsened my nervousness for no good reason. I was looking at him the whole time.. well looking at his back, since he was standing in front of me. As soon as we reached, he held me so closely.. and although I'm not a fan of hugs, I have no idea how I involuntarily hugged him. I also remember the date and time. It was on the 5th of August, at around 7 pm. It was a brief 'date' that filled me with dense and overpowering emotions. I still fail to know what happened to my perception that day. It felt like being drunk except I was fully aware of my feelings. I knew how I felt was no less than love. I just knew it. Our energies were colliding until I became fully submerged in his presence. He just knew what I wanted without me uttering the words.. he took me by the hand and walked me to his room. We remained in the dark, allowing our bodies to be guided by the way we feel. It was a night like no other. It ended with him asking me to be his girlfriend. It felt like a marriage proposal to me. Everything that happened that night felt 100 times more special that it really was. That was it. I was too happy... way too happy. I could fly if I wanted! There was this once glitch, though. My health issue that as much as I didn't want him to find out about, I ended up telling him all about.. He seemed 'all in' but he just didn't know how crazy it could be, especially if I choose to be medicated. For the first weeks with him, I was trying my best to handle all sorts of physical pains I felt. He was too good to be true.. too good to be hurt by the side effects of all the drugs I need to take. Day by day, I felt all-consumed by him. I wanted more. I wanted a family... and since my issues are with my reproductive system, I couldn't possibly have a family without being heavily medicated. I underwent different medical trials without telling him. I started small with regular pills that stop my hormonal disturbances to the mother of all devils: Clomid! When I was on the less aggressive pills that induce my ovulation, I met Morgan unknowingly during the window with the highest chance at pregnancy. We were both very careful, but there were those intervals when we weren't. 
I was convinced I was sterile and that the pills did not benefit me in any way, and I stopped taking them. But every time Morgan would talk to me about the kids he wants to have with me, I would take a mental note.. until I started to get extremely overwhelmed. I wanted to restore my reproductive health and be the best version of myself both physically and emotionally.. for him. I went to see a gynecologist that wasn't well reputed. I just wanted Clomid, the fertility drug that works like magic for all women suffering the same way I do. She easily prescribed it, reassuring me that I was 'infertile.'

As soon as I swallowed down that pill, I felt like it took my soul to hell. I blacked out every few hours.. fainted several times.. and I couldn't see clearly at all. I had the worst pelvic pain.. nausea.. and the list goes on. It did not occur to me that those could be pregnancy symptoms.
I could not fight back. The impact of the pill was stronger than I could ever be. My only regret is that I did not inform Morgan about it prior to my consumption. It was too late. I already fell victim to Clomid. As soon as Morgan talked to me, I began to utter the strangest sets of words.. telling him I love him.. and then telling him I could no longer be with him. He was too angry. In fact, he was never as angry as he was that day. I was too carried away to correct myself right away. The drug wore off the next morning. I rushed to talk to him.. to regretfully apologize and explain what happened from A-Z. I was shocked by his reaction. He couldn't let me in.. he still can't. His mind is stuck at the fact that I left him.. full stop. 

Days passed by since our unfortunate and involuntary breakup. Not a day went by without me thinking of him and longing for him so crazily. I still woke up every morning with the automatic urge to talk to him.. I wanted a reason to speak to him. But every time I try to talk, I overflow him with my "auto-writing" and my failed attempts at making amends and justifying myself, repeating that 'medical errors are not conscious mistakes,' but nothing makes sense to him.. I tried to keep my distance until it hit me that I could actually be pregnant. I did not menstruate for two months even though my menstruation itself was induced by OCs. My anxiety and worry skyrocketed, and I just had to speak to him. He assured me that there was no way I could be pregnant, but my intuition told me otherwise. 

I proved myself right.. and for the first time in my life, it didn't feel good to be right. I suddenly had stabbing pains in my pelvis to the point of being unable to walk. I screamed and crawled my way to the bathroom, until I realized I was having a miscarriage. I sat down, crying in disbelief.. convincing myself that it was just a fibroid or anything similar that the OCs discharged. Yet, I could not shake the feeling at all.. the feeling that I carried a child unknowingly and that child did not survive.

I talked to a gynecologist, explaining every little detail of both what Morgan and I did to the details of the miscarriage. Although what she said calmed me down (in light of my situation with Morgan), there was this part of me that was hoping to carry his baby for 9 whole months. My pregnancy was never going to be sustained since it was an ectopic one where the fertilized egg remained static and did not move all the way into the uterus. 

After that shocking and unexpected incident, I felt more connected to Morgan.. But I can't force a horse to drink, I can only lead it to water.

My love for him, however, exceeded my own nature. My background is in combative sports that desensitized me as a person and altered my personality and femininity. But for Morgan, I did it all. All the cliche, cheesy and romantic gestures.. from chocolates to flowers to letters. And yet, it still seemed as though when I show up or whatever has to do with me does, I only reignite the way Morgan felt when I left him, and he responds only to that.. not to my apology not to anything else..
and all our wild and intimate frenzy
was for nothing."


 The End.

How Much Longer?

How long am I meant to yearn until I cross the path of your dreams and you wake up to long for my presence in your shattered life?
How long am I supposed to endure the bitterest taste of a distance I never signed up for?
Because I find you not only in the people I meet but in the things I do, in the way I breathe, in every heartbeat, and in every time I blink.
I feel you not on my skin but deep under my flesh. Your presence caresses my bones and overstimulates my blood until it sneaks to my heart, and from there, it accesses my consciousness. You keep recurring not only in my dreams but in my most alert state of mind.
You make me wonder.. how long am I meant to wait until you, too, can find me?

PCOS

September is the PCOS, polycystic ovarian syndrome, (also cervical, endometrial etc. cancer) awareness month.. And after 5 years of not even battling but TRYING to harmonize with a destructive disorder.. After more than 7 million women have been diagnosed with it, I still get asked "what is PCOS?" And this question really goes straight under my skin because I'm tired of explaining what it is and what it does, and I'm even more tired of trying to act like I'm OK with sharing.. It's not just a disorder, it's also an insecurity to me. But it's also my duty to educate both women and men, maybe men more than women. Why? Because there's a chance that a man may have a friend, a girlfriend, a wife, a daughter, a sister who fights PCOS, and there's a big chance that this man may NOT tolerate all the symptoms that are more emotional and psychological than physical (yes, even if you all believe that "love" outweighs all hardships). There is a limit to people's tolerance when they don't understand what the other person goes through, especially if that person (with PCOS) seems perfectly fine on the outside. 

So, here are the bitter and HONEST truths about PCOS:

1.  It is incurable 
2. It affects 1/10 women worldwide
3. PCOD (polycystic ovarian disease) is NOT PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) — PCOD is ONE disease, while PCOS is a SET of diseases and complications. 
4. Women with PCOS do not simply PMS. They often experience PMDD, which is (if we could measure it) about 10x worse than regular PMS. 
5. Testosterone (male hormones) levels are skyhigh. Normal women's testosterone level should not exceed 3 or 4 (not quite sure), but those with PCOS have way more than that. Personally, mine goes up to 16. 
6. The system mistakes the female body for a male body, and begins to make it operate accordingly: anovulation (no production of eggs), missed periods, menorrhagia (uncontrolled excessive vaginal bleeding), fast hair regrowth etc. 
7. Sudden depression (yes without a reason).
8. Fertility issues. 
9. Weight gain (not resulting from sedentary lifestyles whatsoever). 
10. Discolored skin tones.  
11. Bodyaches and cramps. 
12. Emotional breakdowns and meltdowns.
13. A desire to withdraw from normal activities. 
14. Women with PCOS are at risk of cancers related to the female reproductive system (cervical etc.). 
15. Insulin resistance.
16. Pelvic pain and discomfort.

There can be more or less symptoms. Not all women with PCOS have the same experience. However, this advice goes to all: 

I tried all kinds of conventional medications. Metformin, Clomid, Contraceptive pills etc. They all treat ONE thing and destruct many other. Their side effects are beyond horrible. So, don't fall in this trap with OB/GYNs. I also tried traditional medicine (slower in effect but better). Black Cohosh and Vitex calm my pelvis down, but nothing's as good as cinnamon when it comes to PCOS. Add a teaspoon to either cold or warm water and drink daily. Both wet and dry cupping help a LOT. Meditation and yoga are also PCOS-friendly. Lastly, when it comes to the perfect PCOS diet: LOW CARBS.. I repeat, LOW CARBS (simple carbs, complex carbs are OK). Avoid soy and its derivatives, avoid COFFEE and processed cheese. More fruits, vegs, nuts and seafood made me ovulate MONTHLY after about a year of anovulation.

Those with PCOS, you're really not alone (cliché, but I mean it), and unlike what others may say to you, it is completely FINE to feel the way you feel at times even when you have absolutely no reason to be depressed, sad, mad, frustrated, confused etc. Whoever does not understand, needs to be educated and needs to be patient instead of rushing you to cheer up. 

Stay strong!

Love, 

Alia

Breathing

Not in blossom, but not dwelling in sorrow anymore..
Not flowering, not improving, not evolving,
but I'm not withering
not perishing..
I'm breathing again.
I became alive the moment I thought my heart
was stationed in its darkest place.
I became alive once not hope but conviction
chose to engulf my exhausted mind.

I'm now convinced,
I now know..
My worth is a thousand times
heavier than my thoughts
and a million times heavier than yours.

I can be scratched
I cannot be broken..
I may be weak at times,
but I'm not fragile.
This is why
I can breathe again,
and you may suffocate
any time soon.

Eclipse

The lingering fondness -
that incense of everlasting burning desires,
sensations, aspirations and unknown outcomes of
unknown ends and unforeseen beginnings, trap us until
we no longer crave routinized conversations
no longer expect a red rose on a cold
February night on a terrace..
We're gorged on the sorrows of what is
perceived as the only chance at happiness - Love
We are gorged on love, love's petals and love's spikes..
until we no longer find it pleasant to follow
the doctrine of love and its unbearable series of
wasted infatuation and a shared interest in a shared life..
and death becomes feared..
Series of obsession, commitment, loyalty..
While, simultaneously, confusion, and even madness..
until it seems as though love is made of two forked parts.
At both ends of the divisions, change becomes the ultimate need.
For some it may be wanting a new experience, or simply wanting to withdraw..
And for the other, it may be wanting to revive love, which only ends in failure..
This is how love tends to eclipse hearts.
At first, it supplies them with the most efficient power to feel connected
Then, it deprives them of even the most minimal will to live..
until death becomes so dear.

False Assurance

Ever loved someone so much to the point where you suddenly realize
that you barely gave yourself a chance to contemplate 
whether or not it is a right choice to be in love with them?
Whether or not it is a right choice to tolerate them?
Whether or not is is a fair choice to sacrifice a lot for them,
while they barely consider a thought of you?

I have.

And I like to keep love out of this equation,
at least for now..
For love has been my only incentive,
my only false assurance.
For I'm repeatedly told I'm loved,
but I only see antonymous meanings.

Little do I encounter
recognition, understanding, compromise...
Belonging, thoughtfulness and compassion.

Little do I feel considered
because every time I invest time and emotion
in this helpless kind of affair,
I receive nothing in return.

Then I realize how unfair
is this affair
on me.

Maybe we have different
sets of mind
Maybe we have different meanings for life
Maybe I have an enormous sense
of both love and occasion
and maybe you have another
meaning for affection.

But love is a false hope
a false assurance
for the both of us.

A Messy Journey

Preface

Che loved Olivia, both writers of different genres, to put it shortly. He could not leverage his love, for he could not guarantee Olivia. And how is the formula of love ever in your favor without the object of your affection being in the equation? That is something Che could not fathom. He is insanely irrational when it comes to her.. wanting to own her, wanting her to love him, wanting her to think the same way he thinks, and wanting her to live in Paris with him. Olivia, on the other hand, did not see any chance with Che. She liked him as a friend, yet him demanding for more made him unworthy of a friendship to her. Olivia did not like being chained nor did she like the idea of a relationship based on blind love that Che was asking for. Leaving her homeland, abandoning her beliefs, feigning a feeling she could not possibly feel..  for him? That was extremely unlikely. Yet, poor Che is still hooked to a dream. A dream that he transformed into a living nightmare for Olivia. Olivia, on the other hand, narrates her stories of her so-called love journey.

Olivia and Che

Put under pressure, we sometimes do things that do not resemble what we would normally do. We surprise ourselves and then hope to fix whatever we did or said. That's exactly what I tried to do right after I conformed to Che's wishes. He understands me as a friend, but he refuses to be this friend lately. He cannot possibly be more than that to me .. I don't want him to be. He is composed of so many things. Many things I like and many things I hate ..  and most importantly, many things I cannot accept. Che is intellectual, learned, lively, and funny to some extent. He holds my interest in that respect! Yet, he has to ruin any conversation we have with confessions that I already know of and, frankly, confessions I am indifferent about. He also leads an entirely different life than mine.. He believes in a different religion, different norms, different ways of life!

I got into multiple relationships, that I placed no value in, during my very long friendship with Che, yet none of them was a liaison. None of the men I met were my type either, but there was something about Che that was more deterring, which is why he remained a friend and only a friend.. until I took one relationship a bit more seriously than the rest, for reasons I cannot explain.. and we all know what happens when someone interested in you is waiting for someone to break your heart. I stupidly gave in but for a couple of days only.
I could not stomach the exaggerated expressions of love, the supposedly chivalrous gestures, and the unreasonable demands of patriarchy. Che began to insanely repel me, and all I could do is recant.
I told him exactly how I felt about him and how my decision was driven by impulse, mostly because of the pressure he put me under. I might have come across to him as bitter and rude, yet I never expected his reaction. He insulted me.. and that was one thing I could not tolerate. I defended myself and slowly retreated, but that wasn't all about it. He kept reappearing in my life, trying to hurt me, attempting to torture me.

I hated him and completely drifted myself away until I read one of his novellas, where he explained himself too beautifully, several years after we stopped contacting one another. I was stunned by his words, by his expressions.. by everything! I mean, we're both writers and I can detect why how and when words are sincere. His novella kept me thinking of how wrong I was, not because of what I did or said to him, but because I did not give myself a chance to understand or appreciate his feelings.

I apologized to him, many years later.. and many years later, he still felt the same way towards me, which began to scare me. He met no one else, and as for me, I met someone who I fell head over heels for.

It was a quick yet detailed talk that followed my apology. Che asked about my health, my life, my love life, and everything a man could possibly ask about a woman. I asked about nothing. He still talked about himself briefly, and weirdly asked me to watch Julie and Julia. And that was it!

Olivia, Joseph and Harvin

With many things going on in my life, I realized that I cannot deal with anything on my own.
Harvin is my therapist. A woman who knows me through retrospective stories that she asks me to talk about, and who appears to know a lot more about me than I know about myself! It's quite amazing how a stranger can help you see your problems, which you never even thought were problems. Harvin suggests that whenever I overreact to anything, it is because whatever happened has a connection to something I once experienced or felt, and it can also mean that I might have experienced the opposite feeling in the same situation, which my body expects to feel yet receives a different emotion. This nonsense, which is sensible yet I cannot explain it very well, is also associated with people. They are the drivers of each other's emotions. As Harvin says, "if you are in a situation with a person that is similar to a situation you once experienced with another person, you will be expecting to experience a similar feeling, maybe a better one, but not worse. You might even expect similar responses whatsoever." I couldn't digest this until I tried to exemplify it in my head. Many things I feel are awful only because I expect them not to be awful, because they once weren't awful with others. For example, Che used to support even my silliest interests, which he doesn't find interesting at all. He's a psychologist, he writes about scientific and also spiritual matters. I'm more into ethnomethodology, ethnography, poetry, aestheticism, narration, imagination, culture and, to some extent, politics! We both write, but we write differently, yet Che exhibits more interest in my writings than the enthusiasm he illustrates in his writings. This is something I lack with Marcus, the man I love. I write weekly, if not everyday.. I write after every time I get choked up and fail to express my feelings in brief words to Marcus.. But he never reads. I then delete my entries, for I feel discouraged and devaluated.

Harvin asked me to think as much as I can of situations where I felt completely let down with Marcus, and to try to link them to past experiences in order to figure out why I even feel that particular way. She said, "you won't just feel sad because he does or does not do a specific thing. Your mind makes connections and comparisons even subconsciously." And she is almost entirely right. I kept thinking of everything that infuriates me about Marcus. Part of it is because I once had it, whatever it is, in a more desired way, but I'd rather have it all with Marcus, which is why it upsets me more, or I would do what women my age would do, find someone else who can accommodate my desires, even if it means through betrayal. Yet, that's not the case with me. His lack of interest in anything I love doing, his lack of will to step out of his comfort zone every once in a while, and his constant opposition to my beliefs.. they all create a huge brick on my shoulders. Harvin first wondered if Marcus and I are even in love at all, which is a logical question to ask. However, my answer is yes. We are truly in love, which she now understands after I told her all about our story. She asked if I've known any other man who was as close as Marcus is to me. I told her about Che and about Joseph, the only person I loved besides Marcus. And she said, "technically, leaving Marcus out of the picture for now, it is more practical to be with a person like Che, but only if you love him back and are willing to make sacrifices. And it is more logical and can essentially be more lasting to be with someone like Joseph, which your brain knows, and that's why there are many things about them that you'd like to see more in Marcus."

It is not Che who I wish Marcus could derive qualities from. It is Joseph.
I met Joseph when I was interested in arts, before I became a writer. I was a young amateur artist and he was six years older than I was. I participated in an exhibition, where we met, and it was my first time to ever feel as though I floated above the ground that I stood on. He was a calligraphist who gave lessons at the exhibition. I couldn't help but sign up for a lesson with him, even though I could master calligraphy. For two weeks, I saw him everyday, from morning until midnight. He knew enough about me, but not everything about me. He learned that many occasions are valuable to me.. birthdays, Christmas, Halloween, and any other occasion that represents a culture, even if it is not my own. I also told him about all the sports and dances that I practice.. this kind of stuff about me!

Joseph was the first, and remains the only man, I ever celebrated my birthday with. He surprised me in a gallery that we both participated in .. he invited my family and his, and he planned every detail of the surprise. It was beautiful. Yet, aside from galleries and exhibitions, Joseph and I did not really often meet. We lived in different cities, but we had a relatively tight bond.. until one day, he moved to Germany and lost contact with me. I was distraught.
Joseph suffered from type II diabetes, which has sadly become as undermined as it is common. And in Germany, he died of HHS, hyperglycemic hyperosmolar syndrome.  

Olivia and Marcus

After Joseph's death, I decided to major in public health and nutrition, even though I am more interested in social science. I felt as though it was my duty to spread awareness about an ailment that is misunderstood, an ailment that because of how common it is, people have blocked their attentiveness to it and are taking it not necessarily lightly but not seriously enough. That was before I met Marcus. When I did meet him, my perspective changed. I began to see no use in doing something I do not love, even if it is for a good cause. Marcus taught me how to love the person that I am instead of blaming myself all the time. He taught me how to be hopeful and patient. Most importantly, he taught me how to love unconditionally. I automatically learned all those things since the day I met him. It was different than the love I felt for Joseph, different than the love Che had for me. Marcus, a hardcore realist, however, lacks certain things that are important in preventing a relationship from withering. Thanks to Harvin, though, I began to understand him now. She suggested that he might have philophobia, a fear of connection.. a fear of becoming emotionally vulnerable, and it might be a result of previously failed love experiences.
Marcus not only despises expressing his feelings but also sees no use in doing so. He tells me he loves me, which I know is a concrete truth, but he says no more.

My thirst for romance sometimes becomes a nagging feeling, I even wish to consummate my relationship with Marcus. I was once exactly like him, if not worse. I never thought a normal intimate relationship was ever possible for me. I can say that all my experiences with men were platonic, and I made sure I put an end to whatever relationship I had whenever they decided to cross my line of comfort. I pushed people away and never felt guilty. Joseph and Che, however, were both a different case. Joseph, a temporary love ended by fate.. and Che, a one-sided tragedy. Loving Marcus, on the other hand, has triggered the hidden Aphrodite in me. I am all-consumed by him, which makes me demand for things that may be beyond his capabilities, and I've become a girl that does not cherish her lover for who he is.

Olivia

I stopped seeing Harvin. I now face different obstacles in life that Harvin cannot help with. I've always known that my reproductive health was not at its best, yet I never knew that it was as bad as having polycystic ovarian syndrome. Che, a know-it-all, once warned me about it, but it was at a time when I believed such thing could only happen to people other than me. I never wanted to see a gynecologist until I realized the abnormal amount of weight I was gaining.. and I was shocked since then. I met with several local doctors, and contacted others from all around the world. They all repeated the same irritating thing, which has basically become my dreadful déjà vu: eat healthy and exercise, and symptoms will start to fade.. not to mention that they all suggested, if not prescribed, Metformin and a bunch of contraceptives, which only made my condition deteriorate. For some time, I was even ready to remove my uterus to stop the pain, and I almost did. And for another longer period of time, I almost lost all the people I care about because of the emotional state (side effects of prescribed pills) that I was in. I could neither handle myself nor the new symptoms triggered by the medications. I still can't handle myself. This reminds me of Joseph. When he used to talk about diabetes, I could not understand it. I thought it was just a common disease that everyone will eventually have and that it was manageable. I'm not sure if I believe in Karma, but that's exactly how everyone around me react to my breakdowns. They, especially Marcus, suggest that I should be patient and hopeful. Yet, I can't help but be beastly when it comes to it. PCOS has dehumanized me, taking away an important human function from me, which is crucial in life. Procreating.

But my annoyance is not only this. It has become common, maybe more common than diabetes (except among women only) to the extent that people belittle its effects, barely counting it as a serious matter, and no one is coming up with a cure, not even coming up with sufficient campaigns! PCOS has altered my appearance, my enthusiasm, my hope, my energy and overall well-being. Even worse, it doesn't come on its own. In a not very long period of time, I have gotten arthritis, endometriosis, hypertension, ovarian expansion, premenstrual dysphoric disorder, and, not to my surprise, bipolar disorder. And still, people expect me to take it lightly, when I'm constantly overwhelmed by it in every aspect of my life.

The cherry on top, however, is Julie and Julia, which I recently remembered to watch, as per Che's request. I'm not sure about the point he was trying to make. He might've wanted to show me how much he knows me, since the movie is basically about Julia Child, a very critical figure in the culinary world .. and culinary arts, something I adore. He might've also wanted me, or expected me, to be nostalgic, remembering our days in Paris, or how much (he might think) I long to live with him in there. What I do know though, knowing Che, he clearly wanted me to feel as awful as I actually felt, for Julia Child has died childless because of PCOS.

On the other hand, Che has only achieved the very last assumption I just made. I did feel awful, but only because I do not wish to make my anticipated destiny a destiny of Marcus as well. It would not be fair. I do not want him to be Paul, however loving he is, and I do not want to be Julia, however much I admire her. I wish for a family that Marcus and I can bring into existence, effortlessly. Without Metformin, without Clomiphene.

But even Marcus seems to be deterred by the new person that PCOS has created. And if it gets worse, I do not have the capacity to hope or ever know if we can continue our messy journey.

A Single Story

(1)

Chimamand Adichi, Nigerian writer and novelist, has written about the dangers of a single story. What is a single story, though? It is a story told from one perspective, one point of view, and is measured with one yardstick, and that's it! Until other people decide to tell the story from their own diverse perspectives, it becomes a universal truth when repeated again and again from the same point of view, even when not necessarily true. This creates a story, a single story .. a stereotypical story. Arabs are terrorists, Jews are miserly, Blacks are lazy, Muslims are oppressed.. and the list goes on! Sadly, even when other perspectives are vocalized, the single story, which has gained its credibility in a way or another, has its effect in life; some people will always be doubtful.. Which story to believe?

And I've only gone through the rather social examples, that have become political, yet these single stories can also be stories we face daily, frustrating single stories.

Think of all the times your teachers tried to plant their own opinions in your mind, until their opinions became part of a truth you might still believe in.. Think of the way your parents try to socialize you, teaching you what they believe is right and wrong.. And most importantly, think of the way you automatically believe doctors once they prescribe a medication they believe is most suitable for you. I'm not sure if it's a game of authority (believing the superior's single story) or if it's just what humanizes us, or makes us fools: obedience.

(2)

I've obeyed all my superiors for a long period of time.. parents, teachers, doctors.. and whoever thought I needed their perspective on life, to an extent where I did not give myself a chance to even question whatever they say. How to live, what to eat, what to know, what to do, what not to do.. Until I realized that I need to fall out of the character that I'm expected to possess. And this is what I came to realize:

Truths are not static!

Not all the "facts" are true. Most of them are series of thoughts, series of tests, and series of whatever makes the person gains credibility, even if they were series of plain lies, and all it takes is a minute to think of how we are governed by universal single stories to be able to object and challenge existing stories (and maybe reach our own truth which suits us better than other people's 'truths'). Think of Copernicus and how he changed the world's view! He questioned and challenged the existing (at his time) biblical story: that the earth is the center of the universe, and he introduced heliocentrism, which exposed people with a strong belief system (relying on religion) to a new story about the solar system. Yet, they eventually believed in his explanation.. until today, which is why we see people deviating from religious norms, for science has offered them a better truth.

(3)

This is how we should try to see things: Objectively! And we must try to not but be subjective in the process.
Listen to opinions, no matter how much they differ from yours, and verbalize your emotions in a way that rationalizes them in order to give them a sense of truth.
Ask for opinions more than asking people not to give you their opinion.
I believe not doing so makes one seem like person who is content with his or her single story, which might be completely ridiculous and insensible, and is not prepared to be challenged in any way.
You will be challenged in ways that are beyond your capacity to act wisely, but try to keep your belief system as weak as possible. That's the only thing that is better when weakened!

Grammar Police

This is an apology, I guess.
I am usually very attentive to grammar and spelling etc. 
Yet, it is not something I choose to pay attention to when I blog. 

Sorry if you find the tenses or structures disturbing (I tend to be discursive -- switching from past to present tense etc.)

Love,
Alia

Appetency

Every time you depart

You extract a little bit of hope from me

A little bit of faith

A little bit of happiness

A little bit of comfort

Except for love

Love is irremovable

It multiplies.

And If I come across as undignified

As if I lack self-love and respect

Every time I walk the extra mile

To pull you back in our own sphere

That we created together,

I shall not mind

Seeming undignified

If losing dignity

Is gaining love.

Venomous Guilt

Fragments, from a male point of view (I think this is a first), also, some of the words/phrases are ones I've heard and loved; I'm attentive to words and I mark them carefully -- no plagiarism, though. Enjoy!

Right now, I'm starting to think.. 
to untangle all those knots I allowed to trap my thoughts.
I have been trapped myself..
trapped in apathy;
blinded by my egoistic self..
Only to realize that there is no truth
there is no validity
to rationality when emotions are entirely disregarded.

Right now, I know that we all have these divisions inside us
and once we ignore one, we stop being whole.
As for you, you were always balanced, which baffled me.
You would be vocal and verbalize your rational thoughts,
you would be subjective, too, and speak your emotions out..
As for me, I perceived that as a dramatic sequence of angry arguments..
I always missed the point you were trying to make..
that once the quarrel is over, or once I, shamelessly, decide to give in,
peace is assured.
But peace I have taken from you..
Leaving you constantly torn while I silently retreat..
I have not been able to see what you were really doing..
What you were doing is caring merely for me.
Worrying about us.
Instilling hope into me,
but that hope I have thrown away.

Right now, your patience is evident,
and my mistakes are evident, too.
I have poisoned your existence, stopping you from thinking
about what you need to be thinking of instead..
I ridiculously disregarded your feelings and saved mine.
I ungratefully forgot the times you could give up on me
but you stood there..
not because you are undignified
not because you are stupid
not because you are naïve
but because you are loyal..
because you carry the world's love
and you are gifting it to me, even when I least deserve it..
because you see no time or energy that can be wasted
in trying to save me in my desperate times,
and I still mindlessly neglected the bigger picture
while constantly making you battle against yourself;
losing sleep, appetite and interest..
This is how I rewarded you.
And it still did not satisfy my compressed ego
when you decided to retaliate,
I could not tolerate the taste of my own medicine..
And in spite of your ongoing efforts to recant and restore normality..
I still brought you down,
without the minimal sense of how a man should treat a woman.
I have belittled you with what I have shown you
the day you reached boiling point..
I have boasted to ignite your jealousy
without realizing how damaging it may be,
how unnecessary and degrading it was.

Right now, I know that how I feel about anything
and how I feel about you are two separate things,
that I kept on mixing.
I have brought you down just because I felt
suffocated, stressed, and undecided..
I felt the need to drag you down with me
without a second thought.

Right now, I want to stop you from shrinking your own self-esteem,
which I may have imposed..
I want you to start thinking of yourself
of your life..
I want you to find your own strength,
which you have derived from me when I was undeserving..
I hate to see my past blooming in you and yet is making you wither..
Feeling helpless, uninterested, incapable.. I know.
There is a fiery nagging urge that keeps you torn
between wanting to compromise
and wanting to heal..
I felt this way, but you were there..
and I do not seem to do the same.

You are full of love,
and I am full of shame..
I hope to see you whole again.

Carmel

They say conflict is the most important part in any relationship; once both speak their negativity out, they settle.. they prosper. Yet, what happens when one of the two chooses not to resolve conflicts?
In spite of what she was known to be, she was the weakest when it came to him. At times, she seemed like an obsessive devotee who got fixated on him and needed to be stopped.
Carmel was the only girl I looked at and saw loyalty beating from her like an aura. My only wish was that Eden could see that. Every night, she would talk to me about her distress, not even in a complaining tone. She would describe how she felt and end it with "I don't give up on people I love." Having said that, Carmel always did give up on the people she loved that proved unworthy of her love and energy, and I was relieved by that knowledge, for Eden, frankly, was only weighing her down. But it took longer than it would normally take Carmel to give up and choose her dignity over a fairy tale, which only meant she buried her pain beneath resistance. This is why I asked her to write letters every night, to Eden, that she would never send, to relieve herself of the burden of bottling up. As her friend, I read him one of her letters because he deserved to grieve way more than we all do..

"Dear Eden,
I always think of the time you told me that you think I think everything's about me. How much more can a person be blinded and ungrateful? Let me tell you what it really is about though.
All I ever do is try to make things right for you and your life ever since day one. I asked a lot about your past for that reason. I wasn't curious, I just wanted to change your view, to make you believe it's not always going to be a failed relationship. But then I found you having who failed you still in your life, and you resist getting rid of her in spite of my ongoing requests. It just seems like I'm too consumed by you that I stopped looking at myself and the person I've become. I get hurt, upset, and mad, and my thoughts keep me up at night but I stopped showing it to you, for I know what will happen: You will either give me the cold shoulder or act defensively until it all seems like my mere fault. And when I finally ignore whatever negativity you project onto me and put it all behind me, I only do that because I think more of you than I think of me. What will Eden do when I leave him? How will his life be? Is he going to drink again? Smoke again? Is he going to be careless about his career again? Who is going to be his voice of reason? I honestly don't know why I'm choosing to be stupidly selfless. I keep telling myself it's all worth it because I'm living for an anticipated future with you. But how will the future be if right now is already weighing me down? One cannot miraculously move mountains suddenly. And if you ask why I feel this way, it is because I, too, have been wronged countless times, that I, too, need someone to remind me I am not only loved but appreciated and respected, that I, too, need someone to try to make me happy and relieve me of my distress, that I, too, need someone to crave my closeness, and that I, too, need to be given as much as I give. It just seems that doing the same to me is your last course of action. Maybe it was not like that some time ago, but for all I know and feel, now, I am just an asset to you, no matter how much you think you love me and care for me. In spite of all this, Eden, I still feel lonely when you choose to abandon me for absolute no reason except your selfish and personal issues that victimize me, and that is when I desperately do all it takes to awaken you from your whims, and this is the most disgusting and shameful part of it all - I've ruined myself to please your only weakness. 
And now it feels like everything I need to feel alive only makes me dead inside.
I do want to hate you, Eden, but what will be the use? After you've used up all what I wouldn't want to be reused. 

Carmel"

There are important cords about any relationship other than mutual affection, that remained untouched in Carmel and Eden's case, the ones that could create harmony, if only Eden tried.. Carmel left with nothing to lose, not even Eden. 
He lost her, that's for sure.

Salty Tang

I have initiated a new blog, which I would like you to check:
http://saltytang.blogspot.ae/

The blog is mainly about food and culture :-)

Alia

Collateral Damage

Often, when he is guilty,
he capsizes his deed in a Sorry,
a word coating the unsettled matter,
a transient cure.

It allows forgiving..
it also allows forgetting,
but the next time he is guilty..
a Sorry cannot do,
for the rage has never been explained..
for the silence has never been explained..
for the guilt itself has never been explained..
and only a word has been verbalized.. a Sorry.

And me...
in spite of my rage
my guilt
my senselessness,
I'm blameless,
for the effort to reach closure
always comes from me..
for the attempt to forgive
always comes from me..
for the hope that keeps us together
always comes from me..
for the fire of his wrongdoing
always burns me..
for the cost of his wrath
only damages me.

Curiosity

In so many different ways, it seems that curious people constantly suffocate us. Curiosity is not something we like to deal with simply because it feels as though our comfort and privacy are violated. However, if we look at it differently, curiosity is not bad. It is the birthplace of human civilization and development. If we do not ask, we will never know, and if we never know, nothing will really change - and that's the problem! Sometimes, all we need is just asking ourselves some questions, reaching closure with ourselves, trying to figure out what we are doing, and organizing our thoughts in order to be fair with our own selves. How? We simply need to look into ourselves, deeper than our skin, and wonder about every single thing we have done in this specific day, and then repeat everyday..
This way, we are evaluating ourselves by asking questions. "Was I fair?" "Was I offensive?" "Did I need to say/do that?" "Did I do a great job?" "Did I really deserve that?" "Is there anything I need to do? "Is there anything I need to change?" "Is there anyone I need to apologize to?" etc.
And when we evaluate ourselves by doing this everyday, we figure out the answers, and when we figure out the right answers, we avoid complications - we avoid unanswered questions being wondered by others that we might have wronged.

Moving on from the 'curious monologue,' we also need a dialogue initiated with curiosity. We can have people who we know love us dearly, but those people can also be on the very far opposite end. How? By not being curious, they prevent us from not only knowing but feeling the love that they have for us. Them being curious about how we have spent our day, what we did/did not do, how we feel etc.. can clearly exhibit their stable interest in our lives that we are living with closed eyes and only realizing what we have done and felt when they come and nicely ask about us. This simple curiosity can mean happiness.

Fragments

The innermost emotions, the powerful horses we are not ready to release
We keep them behind the bars of our unstable stable of feelings 
Afraid to let them overpower us, making us seem astonishingly weak.
Until we realize 
We are the captives
We are the starving creatures exhausted by our norms.
Our emotions, like a carousel, are horses rotating around our nature
We are stuck there, on the platform..
Dizzied by the ride
Wanting to exit
But the merry-go-round is still whirling..
We don't know that just by holding the pole that emerges from the horse's head, 
We are embracing the most important part of us,
Our emotions.
And no matter how much these series of emotions keep recurring, 
We are holding tight
Accepting the ups and downs of the horse we are on
In fact,
We begin to enjoy the ride
Instead of just standing on the platform
Seemingly lost,
Dizzy
Anxious
Helpless
And confused.

Pent Up Fears & Silent Tears

I always fade away and pop out again, and that is because of my extremely messy life and disorganized schedule (trying to get myself together and make some time for my writings though!)
Enough with my justifications,

Here's a quite different story that carry my deepest emotions blended to illustrate a kind of struggle not enough to describe in one-word. 
...

Background
Alice is an offspring of two different races that allowed love to determine their future in a time that was strongly driven by racism and narrow-mindedness. Her mother fought to be with her father, and her father fought to be with her mother. When Alice was born, her parents had already lost their parents; she never met any of her grandparents and she never even wondered why they were not there. That was simply because she never had them around to mourn their loss, nor did she have to lose them in the first place. She was just the next generation that never met the previous one.
...
When Alice's childhood gradually grew faint, her cognizance emerged. She started asking, "where are my grandparents?" Not because she was upset for seeing her friends have ones but because she was curious. Her dad told her wonderful stories about his mother, not mentioning his father. She then knew that he grew up without one. Day by day, Alice knew everything about her grandmother, Mary, and she fell in love with her character. She also saw pictures of Mary. Mary's hair was long and deep reddish-brown, her skin was bronze, and her eyes were gray. Alice's dad is dark-skinned with gray eyes and slightly brown hair. She could see where all that came from, except his skin color. Her dad then told her that his father was darker than his mom, and that was when he started speaking about his own father. He was a diver and a pearl-collecter. He spent months, sometimes years, away from his son. And Mary, Alice's grandmother, ended her marriage with the diver. She was very young but almost infertile; Mary's dad was a miracle. However, Mary was known for being the mother of all the children that lived in their area. She disciplined them, fed them, and adored them. 
And that was the story of one grandmother only..
...
Alice's mother is an introverted woman, she almost has nothing to talk about. Unlike her dad, her mother is silent, passive, and unemotional. Alice always believed that her mother is just apathetic. She never tried to understand her mother's nature and find out whether she is just putting up a facade to hide something or not. Marianne, Alice's mother, also seemed distant. She never tried to approach Alice either. This shows that they have an almost skin-deep relationship.
...

Alice's perspective
My mother's nature with me makes me repel, and how I repel makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I don't feel I'm being a good daughter, but this is only because I do not feel the connection. Marianne's very bitter with me, but she also contradicts herself, which keeps me puzzled. I can see pain in her eyes when I fall ill, and I can see the happiness in her slight smile when I succeed in whatever it is that I do. She just does not express it, whatever she feels. It may upset me but it also makes me worry. Sometimes, I just want to feel appreciated and recognized by my mother. It is not enough to have the world clap for me when my own mom does not. It has begun to irritate me more when I started realizing that she is stiff only towards me. It keeps me wondering and constantly thinking. I am the only daughter that is multilingual, athletic, and learned; I always make exhausting efforts to achieve not satisfaction but pride, my mother's pride, which I do not get. I fight vigorously to make her proud, but I am only loved, instinctively, and I started leaving it as it is.
...

I woke up one day to the sound of the ambulance's siren. It felt as though my heart was running with urgent haste across my entire body. I was stunned, waiting for anyone to come and tell me that everything was alright, but no one came. I walked my worrying self to the living room to find it empty. kept wondering, "who is it? who left us?" I was driven by pessimism, hoping that it was not my mother who was taken away. I did not know why I especially thought of her. 
I then knew from my sister that it was my mother. She fainted for no apparent reason and had to be immediately taken to the hospital.
Marianne had two skull neoplasms for 10 years, as a result of abnormal growth of cells, that she never told anyone about. It was a source of wonder and worry for me. I wanted her to recover as fast as possible.
To prevent them from spreading, Marianne had the tumors removed without anesthesia, which kept me thinking of how strong this woman is. This mere incident created this urge to try and understand why Marianne does not talk about her pains. To hide such physical discomfort for a decade is something to worry about. I needed to know what my mother hides.
After her recovery, I overheard my father telling my mother this, "I was terrified, I remembered your mom." I rushed to where they stood, wanting to know what he remembered exactly. And as he started talking, my tears ran down the crescents of my eyes and rested on my cheekbones, then slowly began staining the collar of my shirt. 
Marianne's mother was diagnosed with cancer, I could never ask for details to know what kind of cancer. All I knew that she began throwing up parts of her own organs until she had no hope to even live. As my dad was talking about it, I kept looking at my mom. She was expressionless and quiet. She was not responsive at all, as if it was not her mother's death that we were talking about. I knew, though, that it is a sensitive topic to her. But why is it?
I understood exactly why. Marianne's mother, my grandma, loved her daughter endlessly. She did menial work to afford all that Marianne dreamed of. Although my grandfather was rich back then, he never asked what my mother wanted, he never asked how she felt. He had another wife and other children that he was busy with. Marianne was the youngest among her step-siblings, and her father did love her, he was simply too carried away. Her mother, however, did the impossible to keep her happy and satisfied. But as a young girl who was neglected by her dad, Marianne was rebellious. She never listened to her mother. She dropped out of school and relied on her mom, until my father married her. My dad, loved my grandmother a lot. She lived with my parents until the day she died.
It is guilt that determined my mother's new character after my grandmother's death. She loved her but failed to show her that. She never told anyone about the tumors that were bothering her because she was afraid to be blamed. She was afraid to be reminded of the way she lost her mother. She felt responsible for my grandmother's death. But she was not. 
I started understanding Marianne, which strengthened my love for her. I do not want her to live with unspoken emotions that may eventually destroy her. In spite of our constant arguments, I do want to have this tight bond with her, but she does not allow me to get close. But as much as I understand, I cannot measure her pain.
...

Start of An End
It was discovered that the tumors that took away Alice's grandmother did not stop at her death. The neurogenic neoplasms begin as benign tumors and may develop if not removed. Something that threatens their genes and terrifies Alice. 
Alice now has two apparent tumors. And every time she feels committed to undergo the surgeries, something holds her back. She is afraid to let them rest in her body and allow them to intoxicate her fate, yet she is unable to help herself. It is an easy procedure; going to the hospital, removing the tumors. But to Alice, it is much deeper than that. She thinks of her mother and the guilt she carries since her grandmother's death. Alice does not want her mother to wither from guilt. She knows exactly that her mom will blame herself. Thus, Alice is praying for strength and determination. 
...

Undecided Decisions
I now know that I can never be as strong as my mother, but I know that I can handle the pain until I decide to let it go. I hate being thought to be careless, there is not anyone that does not care about their health. I get phantoms; I imagine my grandmother and how her death recreated my mother. I do not know how my mother used to be, but to see how she is now, I can honestly form a mental picture of her internal struggle. This fear started when I met the surgeon that was supposed to remove my first tumor. When he knew who I was, he started tearing down. I was baffled, thinking he was being unreasonably sympathetic. Yet, that was not the case. He was the same surgeon that tried to save my grandmother's life. The surgeon my mother never wanted to see. Not because she blamed him, but because he was the last person to see her mother, the person who knew a lot about her. Most importantly, he was the person who understood her pain and tried his best to save her. 
He could not deal with me, fearing failure. 
And that was the last time I visited the hospital for that matter.
...

To end this story, 
I hope that God grant us serenity, strength and sense to keep our health at its best, in order to obtain the ultimate happiness of this life. May God allow us to have endless chances to have all our needs met!

Love,
Alia

Beauty And Correlation

Hello, readers! It's been really so long since I last posted anything, and that is because I've been busy with my studies (probably because I lacked motivation, too). But here I am with a new story that I hope you all enjoy! pay attention to the tenses and try to correlate! :D
...........................................

As humans, we look at our pains differently, but we all know they're beautiful. Some may find their pain a way to become stronger, wiser or just older. Stronger, because pain, for whatever reason, destructs one part but strengthens another. Wiser, for whatever caused that certain pain would be our new warning not to fall apart ever again, and our new lesson that we will teach others who may or may not go through the same phase that we went through. And others, on the other hand, will just grow older, and as they grow older, pain will be just a memory. All these perspectives illustrate the beauty of life. It is a ladder with few broken rungs, but as long as the base is strong and the upper part remains in its normal structure, you can manage; you just need to push yourself a bit more - every time!
This description also illustrates how we see love. Some see it as weakness, some as strength, some find it cheesy, some find it completely disgusting, but they all may have to struggle to understand it. When they understand it, it begins to be beautiful. They begin to figure out its value. They can weigh it. They can differentiate between infatuation, fascination, lust and love. They then begin to distinguish this strong emotion that can weaken the strongest of them.

For me, that ladder with the broken steps deluded me into thinking that all the other rungs are also damaged until I discovered that I may have to stumble, suffer, but I may also have to fly until I can see that beginning of the perfect steps that lead me to the most beautiful thing that I never thought I could find. I just had to believe in the possibility of this finding, even if it seems a little too impossible.

We often hear that people die from bombs, natural disasters, diseases, strokes, and / or whatever disaster it may be. But those people just die. They rest. Suffer for some time and it's all over. On the other hand, we often see the most damaged people are the ones physically unharmed. Their emotional death starts with filing a divorce, aborting a child, making the wrong choices, breaking up, being betrayed... and the list goes on. 

Again, for me, it was betrayal that brought nothing upon me but insecurity and self-esteem issues. No matter how much we hear, see and know that betrayal is wrong and the one wronged is entirely blameless, that betrayed person is the only person living the consequences of the betrayal. Maybe, just maybe, the betrayer encounters remorse, but that would not reorganize the emotional state of the one facing the consequences. This picture that I'm trying to draw is my way of describing my status and any other betrayed person's. It is bitter - we all know it is without having to explain what happened and why it even happened. Full stop.

And that (betrayal) was the reason I thought all the upcoming rungs were broken. In fact, I never even thought I'd grow stronger or wiser, just older.

Then emerged that bit of sense of hope in me. I did not know but I believed. I believed that there will be that day when I reach the extremity of happiness that I'd also be too sorry for the days wasted - the days before I found this happiness. But was I right? I was damn right. 

I lived two decades searching for the right thing to love aside from the instinctive love for my parents. I wanted to be loved in spite of myself, my flaws, my irrationality, and my occasional insanity. I never wanted to be belittled nor did I ever want to enforce myself on someone just to be safe in his custody. I wanted to be adored for the imperfect person that I am. We all want that don't we? Despite the facade that we all put up, we are all little children wanting to be embraced, accepted, and tolerated. Unfortunately, I was belittled and undermined. Fortunately, I am embraced, tolerated, and adored.

It was a reason I least expected, a person I never knew and a feeling I never even experienced. Again with correlation, would I ever value this feeling, this person, and this reason if I never knew what pain is? If life could just gift me this wonderful gift that can make me happy, would I really be happy? I would not, for I wouldn't have anything to compare it against. We compare a good thing to a bad thing, happiness to sadness, we always have to know how an awful thing is in order to know that this other thing is actually beautiful. 

A blessing to me is this reason, this person and this feeling. And another blessing to me is that pain and that betrayal that made me stronger, wiser, and older. My happiness correlates highly with these blessings!

The End

...........................................

Love,
Alia