The Message

This’s not a paper slipped inside a bottle, where ocean’s waves control its destination. It’s not a leaf, a golden one, when the autumn’s hand touches it, it falls. I doubt if my message has the form of a paper, or contains words. I fail to describe this category of phrases, since it’s so pure, so white, and so sincere. I’m afraid that words, eyes, or even a gentle wind of early April may carry some dirt, or defect, or envy to what I really hold inside my heart. Believe me, it’s the heart where all the emotions take place. And it really does so, by manipulating the blood supply to the brain!

If I could, I wish that only you may read this rubbish. Nevertheless, it’s only you whom my words to. Ok, I want to sum it up from the beginning, so no need to continue reading. How to sum it up? It’s the feeling which makes me laugh and smile like an insane man. Euphoria, except there’s a reason, and it’s not alcohol.

Knock, knock! They had left. Can you please open the door? We’re inside an old British cottage, near some shire where you and I only know. I’m neither afraid nor ashamed. I’m proud of being here, between your two eyes, and confident that my decision is correct. Yet, it’s cold outside, let me make some tea. Sit down, my fine lady. I’m here until the night to serve you. You know, for years I used to write and complain. This time, how can I complain of happiness? I used to have troubled mind, but when I see you, the storm stands still, and turn into kind waves of peace. Did you enjoy the English breakfast tea? I like to see the impact of your lips over its surface. So, you want to see how your face, angelic face, would turn my deepest pain and selfish emo into exploding pleasure and old 70’s hippie. 

Your face, the surface of a creek, descending from the highest mountain an eye can witness. I can’t prescribe it further. Let’s just walk under the tender sun of November, where the shadow of that mounts tend to go a bit south. Let’s inspire the warmth, while the sun is chill, from each other’s hands. When I look into your face, I realize how far I’m from the human world, you’re my world. I wonder along your facial characters and figure out that the language we both speak has no words or phrases. Don’t talk, I’m placing my finger over your lips, don’t talk please. Remember, how flattering to see your lips touching the edge of that cup. Your colorful eyes spread me with emotions.

We walked hand in hand. My fingers pray not to be taken away from yours. You see how childish they play among each other. And when you press my hand, you just want to transfer an impulse of emotions which ask me to hug you. Do you remember that scene in “The Inception” where they approach their dreamy world? The ocean is hitting and collapsing the empty buildings. I don’t know why I mentioned it here. Let’s just hug, we’re just between the horizon and god vision. Let’s just hug!

Feminine, per se, is ideal. I know you’re not going to be a prophet while you can have the divine power. I’m sure the least power you practice is making me smiling. Your circle of influence expands to make everything within go into orbits around you. Do you think I exaggerate? Please don’t, as I feel ashamed to tell you how chaotic my life was before. Nevertheless, the balance I witness among my atmosphere is all contributed to your gravity and attraction.

Picture From Arden Ellen Nixon. Message in a bottle. Website

Home, Dream, Home

Smooth Sailing

I’m a day time dreamer. The world around me is very dull. It’s worth to mention that colors are brighter, shinier in my early years of life. It’s like I started my life with colorful movie, and I run out of colors as I grow older. Everything my vision may reach is different. Ants are flying, flowers are dancing, and moon is sparking. That gloomy sphere up in there, for you, is an orientation of sky means, for me. I intended to mention somebody I admire and love in this little passage, but I’m too selfish to talk about anyone but myself. So I just said: “admire and love”, why not the other way around?

Am I in love with myself? Ok this has many meanings, but please don’t go the other wrong way. I couldn’t survive the minutes away from you. I’m in love with you, and apparently I’m trying to hide it. How can I while you manifest, in glory, from everything my eyes may visualize and appreciate? Knowledge of mine could explain how ladies can dance ballet, every vessel, tendon, muscle, and nerve, all I can address. I can track the commands from the higher center down to the heel and toes. Yet, I’m completely ignorant in front of your architecture, design, and angles. I’m lost when I try to elaborate the beauty behind your eyes.

It’s boring to publish a love letter. Obviously, more I write, more gut I have to prolong what I write about. As paragraphs grow longer, the ideas console between my fingers. This time, I dare to say I’m not talking about goddess, they only exists away from my mortal reach. You’re mortal, just like me, and the days are, as well. I’m not sure do we kill time, or time slays our flesh and breaths? Still, time has no command over my dreams. I can shift day light to dusky horizon. I can reverse time, and when I do, you grow more beautiful. In my dreams, I’m immortal, and when I close my eyes, I live forever. 

The heaviness in my chest burdens my words. You can understand that, every time after the shower I set silent, staring in your eyes, and my breaths almost vanish in your breast curves. The air gets inside a puzzle, how it can survive such magnificent incubator. Then, it condenses into little dew of my own. They move erotically along your breast. It’s stupid I don’t know other words for breast, because yours is a different than how the word expresses the insight. I have children of little water evaporations. They formed under the fog of that eve, when god decided to concede his/her/its humanely characters. 

I’m sailing in a sea of my daughter and sons. Those little drops which crash under my ship are my made. I’m surfing over a thin thread. If it’s broken, whole my life would collapse. It’s like the moment which separates dawn from last darkness rays. Like when you say: “good bye” and I stand next to the door. I can’t step behind, then I lost you sight. I can’t follow you, so shame will be our third fellow. Please, you can understand the pain I pass through, to see you, during our meeting, and we our fingers get detach. It’s like a journey in a wild sea. Oh, if I took care of my little drops, they would be behaved. It’s all about shoreless sea and homeless man. So, I knocked the door of my dreams, and ask them: “can I stay inside?”

In the end of the day, don’t ask me: “how do you dream?” I can't live outside dreams.

Thank for AutumnGoddess to give this great picture.. 

P.S: This article is translate into Arabic over here. 

Full Moon

The Astrologer

When I act weird, just check the sky for a full moon. One of the greatest human mistakes is trying to keep their selves in a constant status. Anyway, a full moon is the span which extends between 2 insanity episodes. I wonder a crazy relationship will or not be tolerated in a full moon? I’m not used to discuss my emotional life here, but it sounds like you, my readers, are my first & last resort for my heart story.

Moon and other spheres have an influence over our body hemostasis. Given the moon controls the whole tidal movement of seas and oceans. Then, it controls the huge amount of water inside our bodies, from 50-80% of our builds. MRI, magnetic resonance imagination, applies its power mainly on the two H atoms in water molecule.  However, I don’t think people will act weirdly after being exposed to such a magnetic field. So, it's a different type of gravity. That implies earthly physics can’t be applied for big spheres. The statistics can’t accurately prove the lunar effect has something to do with increase in deviant behavior or events. Traditionally, surgeons refused to operate in full moon eves, because high risk of death during that phase.

So, how does a relationship last long? I’m not the best one to give advices, because I always screw it up. It just depends on the correct formula of attention. And I give less attention to those who deserve more. In same time, more attention to wrong people drives them away from me. The problem is the care is not controlled by me, but other factors determine it. As we mention other factors, it would be good idea to provide more details. We learn from our mistakes in our previous relationship. That doesn't mean we are not gonna repeat the same mistake again. Nevertheless, is the cost we pay to learn equal to the sacrifice we provide?

Too many injuries to one soul cause scars. Scares end up with fibrosis, shrinking, dysfunction and disfiguring. My souls, 7 souls, had been injured too much, that it had vanished in thin air or it has been stronger? I don’t tend to involve the soul or heart in such issues. All what happens is that psychological aspects of our brain adopt a better mechanism to avoid pain. One perfect way to do so is desensitization. So, our hearts, hearts again popped up here, don’t get broken as they had done in first relationship. We are not dead, per se, but emotionless. What is the different betwreen dead and heartless creature, like stones? Still, why do we feel pain? Regardless the self-image and oneself appreciation, we disclose our bodies to our beloveds. There could be a sacred code for our bodies. Nothing can get inside or outside, unless we approve this.

What is the stable relationship and how to achieve it? Maybe good communication is the underlying secret of every successful relationship. At one point, I can notice couples live in different worlds apart from each other. What value does self-image hold? I could be a wolverine and highly influenced by full moons. So what, am I inferior because of that? Should I blame myself for each failure? What is the different between virgin male and female? These questions just popped up in my head while I read this entry again. Also, don’t rely on any answer I provide, it just shots in the dark. Take home message for me in particular: I should talk less to get a better communication.

I am not funny, I can’t be funny. I think I am over serious. I’m sarcastic at my life, so it’s hard to find it funny while it’s very agony. If you ask me, I can be clown, but always I hide hatred underneath my smiley face.

My Wet Boxer (Full)

It’s sexy, isn’t it? Freud, in his pleasure drive principle, suggests; human pursue pleasure, and avoid pain. Nevertheless, I suggest that female’s pleasure is pain oriented. Therefore, females prefer jerk and mean boys. (Jerk appealing principle), according to Ahmed, suggests; lovely kind boys are too gay, so girls don’t like practicing pleasure with them. On the other hand, girls would attract simply to jerks. The reality that Freud, concentrated in his principles on male perspective, means he was a jerk, thinks inferiorly of females. So, girls were attracted to him. Besides, he was just prescribing cocaine for his patients. I bit that’s together as sexy as my wet boxer is for a lot of females.

Is sex a luxury on necessary? First of all, I need to discuss: do relationships in whole world is similar, or differ based on other aspects? The base line is the desire of having sex is universal. The variation comes from the suppressing and permitting factors. I tend to believe that religion, or fear of later life punishment, has no business to do with a naked guy and girl in a dark room. Despite Gandhi’s attempts, in bahmacharya, to achieve celibacy, still he did share bed with 16 and 19 years old NAKED girls. I can understand they, the girls, didn’t practice sex with him as he was considering himself as their mothers. Anyway, the fear governs and controls us the most. It could be the fear of having a child, being married, social rejection, or religious police. To make it easier, the fear level enables or disables our sexual actions. Nevertheless, horror sensation is very sweet. In the end, if having sex is a need, then everybody would do it. Since, only few people may enjoy it, it’s a luxury.

I didn’t bring anything new. Yet, the harder the super ego suppresses the Id, the Id would respond more aggressive when the super ego absents. Therefore, more enabling factors for sexual desire mean less expression for that desire. Since, there is no stress has been practiced over the Id, and then there is no vengeance process takes place between the 2 competing apparatus. Also, more disabling factors result in multi responds for one single situation. Let’s put it in an easier way, a Saudi religious man would deny and disapprove any homosexual or heterosexual behavior in public or between unmarried couple. Later one, he would not mind doing sex with underage boy, as long as they are in the farm without monitoring.

In most occasions, girl would accept the sexual act if it’s based on love. So, love comes first, then sex. This could be true where the body holds more value than the emotion does. It’s some sort of emotional insecurity.  In general girls are taught to protect and cover their bodies, while boys don’t mind exposing everything. I remember seeing a naked guy rides a bicycle in Cambridge twice or thrice. Anyway, love, itself, is the mania stage of a bipolar disorder. So, everything is high; happiness, wellbeing, energy, thoughts, and only sleep is low. Also, there is over spending, impaired judgment, substance or self abuse, and easily distracted. So, you need to have a lot of money to fall in love. As a result you have to have a lot of money to have sex. And I didn’t mean to put 3 haves in one sentence. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not prostitution. But it’s more or less of offering and demand.

After the mania stages, the depression starts. Life, which was full of colors transformed in one night to a grey lifeless sky. And what we all are eager to do is suicide. I think the high rate of depression and suicide attempts along young Saudis is due to failure of love. Do we not know how to love?! Never mind, the depression phase will be full of remembering the misjudgments we did we were maniac. Regret, sorrow, and feeling of being stupid would hunt us as we did all of stupid stuff. The sleeping pattern would change also; you used to spend all the night awake talking and maybe pleasuring each other. That reminds me of insomnia patterns, early morning insomnia with depression, induction insomnia with anxiety, and maintenance insomnia with mania.

At the depression stage your love has 3 options:

1.practicing sex to compensate the depression.

2. Practicing sex but you can’t get rid of the depression.

3. No energy for sex.

In first option you may survive. But the rest 2 are judged to be failed. Thank you very much for you time.