Tell me how high can you
fly with broken wings
Tell me how long can you
survive a broken heart
Tell me how many tears
can drown away your sorrow
Tell me how can you breathe
with so much emptiness inside
Tell me how can your dawn rise
amidst the darkness around you
Tell me why the sunshine
makes you burn inside
Tell me is there an ocean deep
enough to bury your pain
Tell me how can you smile
when your spirit is barely alive
Tell me how can your broken soul
drift to the shore of hope
Tell me how can you love
when you lost faith in your heart
Tell me how can you trust
with shadows of doubt all around you
Tell me how can you be strong
on these shattered grounds
Tell me what good is tomorrow
when you can’t keep up with today
~ misteca
I wrote this back in school - a younger, less burdened, hopefully just as passionate me
On Painted Faces
We state as a matter of fact that we can never really know someone. It’s only when it dawns on you that you’re included in the context of that phrase – as the party that doesn’t really know – that you tend to become more attentive. Suddenly the phrase becomes an eye-opener.
Everyone wears a mask at one point in their lives. It’s inevitable. Some people wear masks year round. There’s the perfectionist, the know-it-all, the life of the party dude who craves attention, and the universally famous back-stabbing jerk. A classic mask is I’m-a-nice-guy, and the most clichéd one is I’m-a-soft-and-delicate girl.
Some masks are more subtle though. Kids become irresistibly charming when they set their minds on getting something they want, or they can be a real pain and cry non-stop. We often put a fake smile on our faces and act like nothing is wrong. We hide behind a concerned face, and make people believe we’re listening.
Why do we wear those masks?
Why is it difficult for us to say what we want?
Why can’t we just be?
Are the masks imposed on us?
The most common explanation for wearing masks is self protection. We sense the need for shelter. Masks help us build our own defenses. They can give us power, or at least the illusion of power, at times when we feel powerless. Even an angry voice can elicit a tough exterior. Sometimes we wear a mask to shield ourselves from getting hurt. We’ve been proverbially attacked countless times from acts of asfana. (asfana is Egyptian slang to mean betrayal/back-stabbing)
We’re born into the world naked and exposed, totally vulnerable and dependent on people around us. Masks change appearances and disguise our weaknesses. With our mask, we forge a display of confidence. We claim to master skills to handle things, we don’t need anyone and we don’t need any help. We appear self reliant and we feel safe.
We also wear masks to hide flaws that embarrass us, and imperfections we’re ashamed of. We paint ourselves a prettier face to the world, covering up the true us out of fear. We fear rejection and we fear someone will make fun of us for what we believe, what we think or how we feel. We try to flaunt what we do not possess. We desperately try to fit in. The need to belong exerts pressure on us. We’re struggling with insecurities.
A mask gives us an opportunity to become something more attractive. We pretend to be a make-believe version of our character, one with the right attitude and intellect. We relish the occasion to impress; especially on a crowd whose approval we yearn for. We like to think the mask is our truth; we rejoice in the evanescent glee a mask affords us.
Some people wear masks to hide from themselves. They can never show their true side to anyone. From experiencing a history of withheld warmth and love, a bankruptcy of thoughts and feelings is their prominent characteristic. They have grown up to harbor negative beliefs about themselves, such as ‘I’m not good enough’, ‘I’m stupid’, ‘I’m ugly’ or ‘I’m a failure’. They keep their engraved beliefs hidden because they don't want anyone to know. They build an emotional barrier. They make sure that nothing about them sparks interest in others to get to know them. They try to fade and become just another face in the crowd.
Then there are the affairs of the heart with our significant other. Many people feel compelled to wear masks with their partners. They cannot risk the loss and break up. They recall a few times when they dared to say the truth, and were left - much too often - with an inane remark or a moment of awkward silence, and an immediate regret that they had not kept their mouths shut.
Girls and guys alike often create an image of themselves that is far from the person they actually are. They put on a mask that shows their partner a different face, with an exceptional personality altogether. They feign interests. They play a part they dislike only to please and keep their partner. Their actions and words is all pretense. It may be out of love, but when it shapes the relationship it’s no longer sincere. Love is not faking your identity for someone. You’re trapped inside the mask. Some of us burn out from the effort of trying to maintain a façade. We end up missing out on real relationships. They either fall in love with the mask, or we don't let them get close enough to see the real person hidden beneath the mask.
It’s easy to get lost amid a closet-full of masks. Where is the real us? For some of us the reality is the mask. It’s our persona. For others, the reality lies underneath. They prefer to keep it buried.
Which scenario is worse? Losing ourselves to the mask or not being able to cast it away? The bittersweet truth is that there may come a time when we cannot remove a mask without removing some of our own skin. (~ André Berthiaume, Contretemps)
Everyone wears a mask at one point in their lives. It’s inevitable. Some people wear masks year round. There’s the perfectionist, the know-it-all, the life of the party dude who craves attention, and the universally famous back-stabbing jerk. A classic mask is I’m-a-nice-guy, and the most clichéd one is I’m-a-soft-and-delicate girl.
Some masks are more subtle though. Kids become irresistibly charming when they set their minds on getting something they want, or they can be a real pain and cry non-stop. We often put a fake smile on our faces and act like nothing is wrong. We hide behind a concerned face, and make people believe we’re listening.
Why do we wear those masks?
Why is it difficult for us to say what we want?
Why can’t we just be?
Are the masks imposed on us?
The most common explanation for wearing masks is self protection. We sense the need for shelter. Masks help us build our own defenses. They can give us power, or at least the illusion of power, at times when we feel powerless. Even an angry voice can elicit a tough exterior. Sometimes we wear a mask to shield ourselves from getting hurt. We’ve been proverbially attacked countless times from acts of asfana. (asfana is Egyptian slang to mean betrayal/back-stabbing)
We’re born into the world naked and exposed, totally vulnerable and dependent on people around us. Masks change appearances and disguise our weaknesses. With our mask, we forge a display of confidence. We claim to master skills to handle things, we don’t need anyone and we don’t need any help. We appear self reliant and we feel safe.
We also wear masks to hide flaws that embarrass us, and imperfections we’re ashamed of. We paint ourselves a prettier face to the world, covering up the true us out of fear. We fear rejection and we fear someone will make fun of us for what we believe, what we think or how we feel. We try to flaunt what we do not possess. We desperately try to fit in. The need to belong exerts pressure on us. We’re struggling with insecurities.
A mask gives us an opportunity to become something more attractive. We pretend to be a make-believe version of our character, one with the right attitude and intellect. We relish the occasion to impress; especially on a crowd whose approval we yearn for. We like to think the mask is our truth; we rejoice in the evanescent glee a mask affords us.
Some people wear masks to hide from themselves. They can never show their true side to anyone. From experiencing a history of withheld warmth and love, a bankruptcy of thoughts and feelings is their prominent characteristic. They have grown up to harbor negative beliefs about themselves, such as ‘I’m not good enough’, ‘I’m stupid’, ‘I’m ugly’ or ‘I’m a failure’. They keep their engraved beliefs hidden because they don't want anyone to know. They build an emotional barrier. They make sure that nothing about them sparks interest in others to get to know them. They try to fade and become just another face in the crowd.
Then there are the affairs of the heart with our significant other. Many people feel compelled to wear masks with their partners. They cannot risk the loss and break up. They recall a few times when they dared to say the truth, and were left - much too often - with an inane remark or a moment of awkward silence, and an immediate regret that they had not kept their mouths shut.
Girls and guys alike often create an image of themselves that is far from the person they actually are. They put on a mask that shows their partner a different face, with an exceptional personality altogether. They feign interests. They play a part they dislike only to please and keep their partner. Their actions and words is all pretense. It may be out of love, but when it shapes the relationship it’s no longer sincere. Love is not faking your identity for someone. You’re trapped inside the mask. Some of us burn out from the effort of trying to maintain a façade. We end up missing out on real relationships. They either fall in love with the mask, or we don't let them get close enough to see the real person hidden beneath the mask.
It’s easy to get lost amid a closet-full of masks. Where is the real us? For some of us the reality is the mask. It’s our persona. For others, the reality lies underneath. They prefer to keep it buried.
Which scenario is worse? Losing ourselves to the mask or not being able to cast it away? The bittersweet truth is that there may come a time when we cannot remove a mask without removing some of our own skin. (~ André Berthiaume, Contretemps)
A Million Little Things II
inspired by previous post
One truth in the middle of everything else shaded; a world full of shades of grey amidst all that black and white. Friendship will never be overrated.
Friends. We make them. We literally do that. We choose who we want to be friends with. We even decide how close and intimate we want this friendship to be. Friends are our own choice. There’s something about freedom of choice here that just speaks volumes. Not in a cliché kind of way, but in a sense that is amazingly good, heartwarming and comforting. We choose our friends.
Remember your school days? The years of growing pains. We were just a little bunch of happy-go-merry kids, without a care in the world. We had our braids, hideous glasses, embarrassing braces, cute dimples, ridiculous crushes and a collection of bizarre toys and games, among other childish things. In our minds, we had everything we needed. I am not exaggerating - everything. Not because of our young innocent minds believing that’s all we need, but because we had our very own BFF. Best Friend Forever. That one person we spend every waking moment of the day in school with. We’d sit together in class, eat lunch together from almost identical lunchboxes, play every sport together, join the same extracurricular clubs, share stories and gossip, talk, smile, laugh, cry, jump and scream together. We’d hang out at each other’s places every chance we got. We know the inside of our BFF’s house just as we did our own. Most of our memories in school revolve around our BFF. We were inseparable. We did everything together. We made promises we believed we could keep, in spite of anything, in the face of everything. We promised to always be best friends forever.
And some of us did. Some of us remain friends. I do know of people, who have friends they’ve known since kindergarten, or school, friends they grew up together with as neighbours, or as close family friends. I myself am still friends with a few from school. That friendship is priceless to say the least - friends from the good old days. The ones who know you better in some ways than you know yourself. Friends who would tell you what you won’t tell yourself. Friends who give you the proverbial shoulder to cry on, and are the ones you want to share and celebrate every insignificant piece of news you have with first. You can count on them to be there for you at all times, be it happy, delightful, miserable or sad. They are exceptionally precious friends. You can go days and weeks not speaking, but one casual phone call or SMS or Facebook poke, it more than makes your day. It has meanings only the two of you understand. An old song on the radio or on TV can flood you with warm memories that you’ve forgotten, and you immediately appreciate the small reminder with a smile on your face. On instinct you text message your friend about it, or bring it up the next time you talk. You cherish those friends unconscious of how they are your connection to life – ‘a tie to your past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world’.
Except that we didn’t all keep our promise. Some BFFs ended when school was over or during the first years in college. Occasionally when you remember a certain BFF, it still takes you by surprise that you’ve lost touch and haven’t spoken or seen each other in years. No one is to blame. Why that happens has been under enormous speculation worldwide. Will it suffice to say it’s a side effect in our grand journey through life?
Life takes you places. You grow. You move. You live and learn, and almost always you inevitably end up leaving something behind. We don’t intentionally leave our friends. Not unless it’s reached a point beyond reconciliation. That happens in rare occasions. Not just a conflict of interest, it’s a combination of miscommunication, failure to understand, saying the wrong things, or worse not saying anything, growing apart, getting caught up in one thing or another. It’s simple in spite of all those complexities. We change. Somewhere along the line, we get consumed and drawn deeper in this massive spider web we call life. All the paths we take; the crossroads we face, the obstacles and the stepping stones. All the distractions, reactions and interactions; life has plenty.
Going through college and later into the real world, we start to work, build our careers and make something of ourselves. We go through new experiences, from our exposure in the professional world, the personal lives we lead, and the interests we pursue. We like to think we mature; we grow wiser, and know so much about so much. But the minute we stop learning is the minute we grow old. I heard somewhere that we have to make mistakes to actually figure out what is right. Some of those mistakes tend to be painful though, which is unpleasant and downright nasty. Except that there is a good side in there, in terms of friendship I mean. These mistakes eventually let you know and discover things about yourself, who you are, who’s a real friend, and who’s a fake.
Fake ones you can totally forget about and eliminate from your life, or limit your relation with depending on whether you can actually avoid encounters with them. It’s not always ok to lose touch; some friends are worth second chances. They deserve that you overcome your stubbornness, and find common grounds to speak again. What you’ve shared matters. Other times you realize you’ve alienated a few for no good reason. It’s not always possible to mend those. You’re responsible and guilty under every possible nonexistent law of friendship. Another thing you learn is that in a phenomenal way, we make new friends all the time. We have new friends to be ourselves with, to share the ups and downs in our current lives with, and make new memories together. We trust them, and we confide in them. In doing so, we’re well aware that a few of our new friends can in actual fact blackmail us for everything we’re worth!
There’s a feeling writers occasionally experience, how difficult an article or a story or a blog becomes when they have nothing to say, yet everything to say. No matter how much you want to say and do eventually articulate into words of depth and insight, there’s a nagging feeling that you still haven’t actually said anything at all. You haven’t expressed your thoughts and the point you’re trying to make. Reading this quote made me realize why I’m feeling this way for this article in particular; ‘Friendship is not a big thing. It’s a million little things’.
A million little things.
A friend understands - even better - shares and delights in your passions, especially when that passion is something as simple but nevertheless deliciously exquisite as coffee. That’s not a big thing. It’s special maybe, but in reality, it’s a million little things.
One truth in the middle of everything else shaded; a world full of shades of grey amidst all that black and white. Friendship will never be overrated.
Friends. We make them. We literally do that. We choose who we want to be friends with. We even decide how close and intimate we want this friendship to be. Friends are our own choice. There’s something about freedom of choice here that just speaks volumes. Not in a cliché kind of way, but in a sense that is amazingly good, heartwarming and comforting. We choose our friends.
Remember your school days? The years of growing pains. We were just a little bunch of happy-go-merry kids, without a care in the world. We had our braids, hideous glasses, embarrassing braces, cute dimples, ridiculous crushes and a collection of bizarre toys and games, among other childish things. In our minds, we had everything we needed. I am not exaggerating - everything. Not because of our young innocent minds believing that’s all we need, but because we had our very own BFF. Best Friend Forever. That one person we spend every waking moment of the day in school with. We’d sit together in class, eat lunch together from almost identical lunchboxes, play every sport together, join the same extracurricular clubs, share stories and gossip, talk, smile, laugh, cry, jump and scream together. We’d hang out at each other’s places every chance we got. We know the inside of our BFF’s house just as we did our own. Most of our memories in school revolve around our BFF. We were inseparable. We did everything together. We made promises we believed we could keep, in spite of anything, in the face of everything. We promised to always be best friends forever.
And some of us did. Some of us remain friends. I do know of people, who have friends they’ve known since kindergarten, or school, friends they grew up together with as neighbours, or as close family friends. I myself am still friends with a few from school. That friendship is priceless to say the least - friends from the good old days. The ones who know you better in some ways than you know yourself. Friends who would tell you what you won’t tell yourself. Friends who give you the proverbial shoulder to cry on, and are the ones you want to share and celebrate every insignificant piece of news you have with first. You can count on them to be there for you at all times, be it happy, delightful, miserable or sad. They are exceptionally precious friends. You can go days and weeks not speaking, but one casual phone call or SMS or Facebook poke, it more than makes your day. It has meanings only the two of you understand. An old song on the radio or on TV can flood you with warm memories that you’ve forgotten, and you immediately appreciate the small reminder with a smile on your face. On instinct you text message your friend about it, or bring it up the next time you talk. You cherish those friends unconscious of how they are your connection to life – ‘a tie to your past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world’.
Except that we didn’t all keep our promise. Some BFFs ended when school was over or during the first years in college. Occasionally when you remember a certain BFF, it still takes you by surprise that you’ve lost touch and haven’t spoken or seen each other in years. No one is to blame. Why that happens has been under enormous speculation worldwide. Will it suffice to say it’s a side effect in our grand journey through life?
Life takes you places. You grow. You move. You live and learn, and almost always you inevitably end up leaving something behind. We don’t intentionally leave our friends. Not unless it’s reached a point beyond reconciliation. That happens in rare occasions. Not just a conflict of interest, it’s a combination of miscommunication, failure to understand, saying the wrong things, or worse not saying anything, growing apart, getting caught up in one thing or another. It’s simple in spite of all those complexities. We change. Somewhere along the line, we get consumed and drawn deeper in this massive spider web we call life. All the paths we take; the crossroads we face, the obstacles and the stepping stones. All the distractions, reactions and interactions; life has plenty.
Going through college and later into the real world, we start to work, build our careers and make something of ourselves. We go through new experiences, from our exposure in the professional world, the personal lives we lead, and the interests we pursue. We like to think we mature; we grow wiser, and know so much about so much. But the minute we stop learning is the minute we grow old. I heard somewhere that we have to make mistakes to actually figure out what is right. Some of those mistakes tend to be painful though, which is unpleasant and downright nasty. Except that there is a good side in there, in terms of friendship I mean. These mistakes eventually let you know and discover things about yourself, who you are, who’s a real friend, and who’s a fake.
Fake ones you can totally forget about and eliminate from your life, or limit your relation with depending on whether you can actually avoid encounters with them. It’s not always ok to lose touch; some friends are worth second chances. They deserve that you overcome your stubbornness, and find common grounds to speak again. What you’ve shared matters. Other times you realize you’ve alienated a few for no good reason. It’s not always possible to mend those. You’re responsible and guilty under every possible nonexistent law of friendship. Another thing you learn is that in a phenomenal way, we make new friends all the time. We have new friends to be ourselves with, to share the ups and downs in our current lives with, and make new memories together. We trust them, and we confide in them. In doing so, we’re well aware that a few of our new friends can in actual fact blackmail us for everything we’re worth!
There’s a feeling writers occasionally experience, how difficult an article or a story or a blog becomes when they have nothing to say, yet everything to say. No matter how much you want to say and do eventually articulate into words of depth and insight, there’s a nagging feeling that you still haven’t actually said anything at all. You haven’t expressed your thoughts and the point you’re trying to make. Reading this quote made me realize why I’m feeling this way for this article in particular; ‘Friendship is not a big thing. It’s a million little things’.
A million little things.
A friend understands - even better - shares and delights in your passions, especially when that passion is something as simple but nevertheless deliciously exquisite as coffee. That’s not a big thing. It’s special maybe, but in reality, it’s a million little things.
