Ramblings: Cyclones and Non-happenings.

Now Playing: Far Away From Here - Fabrizio Paterlini (Click on Player)

Words and I have run out of commonalities. I seem to have forgotten who I am, and what words mean to me. I seem to have lost directions and landed in the right way. How is it, though? How can I have lost my way to end up right where I belong? Words and I only gather at sadness and confusion. Never do we gather in happiness or fulfillment. They seem to control me, rather than me controlling them.

It is but the broken road that lead to here. Here is where every moment is spent in laughter. Here is where every second is spent in joy. Not every second of it, but every memorable one. Tonight, however, I go back to memory lane for one last visit. I go to memory lane to let it go. I stand upon my despairing memories and for once I control them. I overcome them. I do not fear them. I do not tear on them. I simply stand upon them and perhaps smile a bit.

The last weeks of my life have been but a complete temperamental cyclone. Though I have reached the road of happenings, I am still traveling. A traveler of hopes and dreams that one day I may accomplish. Never have I imagined that I would reach a night; as tonight, and not fear the power of my words. Never have I witnessed a time where words and I did not clash. Words flew oh so gently out of me, so painfully, so utterly, that I could not help but write some more.

Wounds seem to generate the words I write. While I stand here tonight, letting go of memories, I turn the pages of wounds and ever longing scars. I let go of not just memories – but words; Word that once were everything to me. Who am I; if not my words?

I could be mistaken. I might be too doubtful. But tonight, as hard as I tried, words failed. At moments, even words fail. But then, what shall I do, who will I be, and where will I go?

Preoccupied by fate, taken for granted by memories, stripped of truth, I am nothing but a hopeless rambler tonight, seeking words, not pain. My actions speak for themselves; Unloading the unloaded, fighting the unworthy, tampering with patience and pushing away the past. There goes the past; here comes the future, Oh – but the future. I fear of future, more than the past, for I have overcome the past – and unaware of the windy future.

Kinds of Change: Rare and Invisible.

Listen to: Exit - Ludovico Einaudi.

In a world where change is constant, I dare to defy change by remaining the only constant. I still draw smiley faces at the sides of my notebooks. I still soul-write whenever I feel the urge to write. I still laugh at silly things. I still overreact towards many things. I still enjoy the corny things of life. I still dance to no beat. I still believe in good people. I still believe that good things happen to good people. I still am the seven year old who loved to swim. I still am the 5 year old who cried whenever her dad left without giving her a kiss. 

However, I now know what not to expect. I have no bar for expectations at all. I now know the kind of disappointments that will come along. I have set a bar for disappointments. I know the kind of pain I will be feeling, although I do not possess the knowledge of healing it, I know how to live with it. 

The problem with people and change is if they change, they blame it on you. The disturbing fact is everyone changes. However, I seem to be the change magnet. It is as though I hold the secret of change. Unfortunately, I do not know what that secret is or why people change around me. 

Change is a chain or misleading thoughts and propagandas of pointless reasoning. My God, people starve for change. People beg for change. People chant for change. People die for change. But what people refuse to know is that there two kinds of change. 

The first kind of change is the good kind; The Rare Change. It is the change that Obama meant in his slogan. It is the change the people of Tunisia revolted for. It is the change that Egyptians marched for. It is the change the Arab world needs. It is the change every single one of us wants to see in themselves. 

In my definition, the Rare Change is: transformation of a matter from bad to good. However and sadly, people seem to mistake the Rare Change with the Invisible Change. The Invisible change is the change of reason, heart, and mind towards others. It is the kind of change that hurts others. It is the kind of change that turns friends into foes, and families into strangers. It is the kind of change we all somehow turn into, without noticing, or believing. It is the kind of change that is unnoticed, slow, and toxic. It is a virus that slowly seeps into our systems, changing us with no cure. 

In my definition, the Invisible Change is: When a person’s state alters in ways one would never imagine. It happens when a person’s soul wraps itself in denial, refusing to see the horrors it’s doing to others. The reasons for it are yet to be determined by scientists. 

Change, change, change, and godforsaken change - The reoccurrence of this word is starting to disturb me. Change is suffocating me. None of us understand the dimensions of it. And if we do understand them, we close our eyes in fears of the scary fate and block our senses. We are never happy with how we are, and thus want to change. But what if the change is worse? What if we wake up one day and dread change? 

The sequence of change is disturbingly annoying. When one changes, others tend to change as well. Their change is dependent on another person’s change, and others are dependent on theirs. It is impossible to live in an unchanging world. That is the nature of things. 

Change is uncertain, yet bound to happen. The beautiful irony about change is when the Rare Change happens everyone takes credit. Everyone steps up and says “It was me, I did it”. But when the Invisible change is finally noticed, everyone points their finger at someone else to blame. No one steps up; especially the one who changed – denial in its ugliest form. 

The invisible change is ugly to go through, and mostly impossible to accept. Perhaps change hasn’t occurred. Maybe a certain mask of lies wears off and thus a person changes. Perhaps it was them all along, but they had the skill to hide it for so long. 

Here I am today asking myself which to accept: The Invisible Change or the Ugly Truth. 

I refuse to be a part of the series of change. I refuse to take part in something only the weak go through. I refuse to let others change overcome me, and influence my decisions. I refuse to be taken for granted. I refuse to be considered as naïve because of my congeniality. I refuse to contaminate my heart with disturbing questioning as to why change occurred, or how to stop it.

Change is unchangeable.