Midnight thoughts, and beyond
Have you ever had that strange feeling when you lay your head on the bed at night, fully willing to go to sleep, close your eyes and fall asleep. except, you don’t! some call it insomnia, others say it’s overthinking, I say it doesn’t matter, it’s been getting to me more often lately and it is getting on my nerves!
No I don’t need medicines, nor do I need a doctor although one or both of them can be very helpful. I do take it as a benefit as I do with most bad things that happen to me, following the saying “If life is handing you lemon, make lemonades then” as surely I am making lemonades. I quite often find myself in my bed, middle of the night with an ashtray full of cigarettes edges, making a small mountain, music blaring from my headphones and thoughts coming in and out of my mind as if it’s a Formula 1 race of thoughts in my brain cells. This time I decide to type it down, no planning no thinking just my fingers smoothly touching the keyboard making my thoughts into a readable text, or paragraph. You need no body-language, no psychology and surely no mind-reading to access my thoughts, at least for the night, and no I won’t delete this by the morning.
Tonight what I find myself overwhelmed with is the word fate, aka destiny. More particularly, the past. I know what most people would say about it, it’s a setback and what happened has happened, but what really sticks to my mind is, what if what happened didn’t happen ? I mean most of wish that on some specific things we had but if it didn’t happen would you be who you are today ? would I be writing this text or would I even be here today ? I think it all comes to one conclusion, some things must happen to cause others to happen, I mean if you didn’t breath your first breath that made you cry out of pain upon birth you wouldn’t be alive today much less to talk about it. Pain, bad experiences, disappointment and sickness are necessary for one’s growth.
The biggest enemy of myself is myself and no matter how much I hate it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. Only stand in my way and I had to punched very hard by life to realize that and I would say I learned quite well from it, as now I know who am I (if you think it’s about names you should re-read this), what I am, what I come from and where I want to go, and if you are curious then I tell you my unchanged answer to that question, I am just a man, strong one, determined one and too stubborn to take no for a final answer. I say just a man not just out of being humble but out of consciousness that no matter how strong I get I still mortal, dependable and vulnerable. There’s no shame in being any of that but there is a great shame in living your life not knowing your real potentials simply because you were to scared to face the worse of you, to face those hideous experiences that freaks you so much that you don’t dare think of what you would do if they happen to you. Bob Marley once said “ You never how strong you are, until being strong is your only option”, now he most likely was high when he said that but that doesn’t make any less true, in fact it’s so deep that you need to give it a fair amount of thinking to get its’ true meaning (and no you can’t use my last sentence as an excuse to smoke week).
If I get to face the worse thing that can happen to me, I’d rather it happens today while I’m young to take it, to face it, to go through it. I find no greater joy than fighting my way through something that others think is impossible for me, because every time people say that I reply with my eternal reply “Watch me do it!” and I usually get it done, I say usually because as I said earlier I’m just a man so I win or I learn, period. I feel a bit sad about the family of Cohort 5, both students and staff because they didn’t get to know the Wassim that other knew before joining RBK, I mean I was funny, always laughing rarely take anything serious including insults and rarely in no mood for laugh. I was a easiest person to make laugh, literally. Unfortunately things changed short before joining and even though I had a lot of help emotionally within the process but I haven’t fully recovered back to how I was, yet I was also irresponsible and wild so at least I gained something but losing that.
I used to write poetry, in English of course. Not all “Poetic” since some of them were Rap lyrics, dissing others and clowning them but I had always that desire to hold a pen and decorate a paper with some of my words, as I felt it’s my signature to be left behind me. I still have some notebooks full of my lyrics, somewhere around the mess around me that I call “Perfectly organized and understandable room”. I have no structure for this story, no point and no objective but to simply empty my mind and being open and honest with I people reading this regardless if I know them or not but if you reading this please do remember “After the fire comes the rain, after pleasure comes pain”
