Archive

      Let me reverse back to when I first started college ( You know, the time before I got my fair share of reality check that procrastination wasn't going to work in this institution). 

At the moment, it is 11:28 pm in which case I have slept approximately only 1 hour the previous night. Despite being in a state where my brainwaves closely mimic that of a sleeping individual, I am typing a blog. 
This is just because occasionally I like to share my opinion and life with strangers on the internet I don't know. It allows me to reflect back on life. 
I recently browsed through my document files because the past me intrigues me to try and decipher my thoughts at the moment of writing certain things. It also makes me feel like I have changed very much. So, here is the past thoughts I've written in worlds all in one blog (of the files I still have), with dates of course. 

July 6th, 2013

Intelligence on a decline...

Dreams they say, what are they for? To recollect information? To envelope us in a world of our own.

Then, what are nightmares? Recurring nightmares. What do they say?

I’m always running in a forest. Its dark, dense, and seems to reach beyond infinity through the abyss. My lungs feel like they collapse under the dense air. My feet is bare, and I am running. Running with every fiber of my being. I am being chased by something. I don’t know what. I’m always on the run in fear. The trees turn into walls from the speed.

And then the ground beneath me vanishes, like I ran past a cliff. Gravity is like a monster here, and so I fall into the red ocean beneath me. The loud crash of water as the pressure hits me in the back. I try to catch some air, but then I remember I don’t know how to swim. There’s a creature in these waters. It trails past my legs, and then grabs me. deep deep deep under the sea. The moon is no longer visible. The black skies disappear. And I just get pulled deeper. I struggle, I cry, the pain almost feels real.

The camera always changes, and I see the image of a small girl falling off a cliff, drowning in bloody water, and then disappearing deeper into the sea. She screams for help: Is...that me?

I’m standing on air. The skies are now orange with a black moon. The sea is silent. No flies, no waves, just silent. “Hello?” I say... What comes back are the dead echoes that bounce off of what seem to be mirrors surrounding the skies.

I want to cry. I hate to be lonely. I hate to be alone. There is nothing else in the world I fear more than being left all alone. The feeling overpowers even the worst fears. I would rather drown in dark water than be left. Its like a empty room, no doors, no windows. Just a room. A room with no end, and I am the only one in it. I can only listen to myself, talk to myself, repeat myself, but I can’t see myself. And soon the emptiness eat me whole. Insanity fills the empty void. Insanity creates imaginary friends, but to me they are not imaginary. I am them, and they are me: Kien, Vyole, Wrath, Kobe. They are apart of me. Like a different conscious. They are there, and I talk to them when I’m alone. they give me opinions, and listen to my thoughts without me saying them. Friends they say. Im this lonely room, through this insanity, I’ve made friends.

7/9/2013

(My attempt at social commentary though poem)

Broken wings,

shattered teardrops.

She holds her cigar to her lips,

and inhales.

Inhaling all the dead peoples air,

all the hatred, the guilt, the pity, the fear.

They tell us that we are women,

a glass wall stands between us and the stars.

Tell me that I can’t reach for them,

Tell me that I will run into a wall.

When I’m standing on one side, just staring

At the men who pluck stars off the skies...

and make...green paper.

1/5/2012

I AM FROM DARFUR – (In the voice of Daoud Hari)

(A "I am From" poem based on the memoirs of Daoud Hari)

I am from where every step could be my last breath,

From where laughing men bathe themselves in not water, but blood of small children,

From where weeping women retrieve firewood for the cost of strangers inside them,

From where crying children souls lie dead beneath the hills

From where the water you trusted would be the death of you.

I am from my childhood,

When conflict did not shed blood on foes,

Where families shared dinner with others now buried beneath the sand,

When Zaghawa and Arabs were as close as cousins,

Where home…Still felt like home and not a graveyard for the past.

I am from many stories,

Stories of women forcing themselves to believe their newborns soul had not yet flown away,

Stories of men watching their families fall before their eyes with death blood,

Stories of mothers watching her children’s skin shrivel onto their non-living bones,

Stories of “why I must kill you” and “why you are here to kill me”

I am from Escape

Where hope comes at the bottom of pockets,

Where God still allows me to limp from broken legs,

Where I still venture on knowingly of danger,

Where my brother teaches me to make…Friends.

I am Zaghawa,

I am from Darfur.

July 13th 2013

When the topic of  “Global Warming” is pushed to the table, the majority of  faces frown. People can talk about how bad our ozone is depleting, or how global warming will cause harmful radiations that affect the world. When asked: “What causes global warming?” many people know the answer: Carbon Dioxide. That is true, but who contributes the most carbon dioxide for our slowly dying atmosphere? The answer is, intelligent animals. These are the only primates, that we know so far,  that can walk upright on two legs, the only animal capable of so many languages in the same species, and the only animal with a brain unlike any other animal that allow it to build tools. What are these magnificent creatures? Us. Human beings.

8/28/2013

College. Its amazing to see the level of maturity.

Perhaps I am insane...Or would I like to believe that I am insane and not just a projection of stupidity.

Another dream: Most of my dreams are dark, or, at least most of the ones I remember are very ominous. The scariest dreams are the ones that you don’t know how to wake up from. It’s one thing to not be able to awaken, and another story when you forget the steps to joining back to reality. And so it begins…

“Isn’t it odd? That we are training to get further away from what we are trained to fight?”

The sound of christmas bells jingles in my right ear. I don’t hear anything in my left. Perhaps I’m sleeping on it. The back moon is hung high in the sky. Orange fills my vision as I open my eyes. The sky is orange with red clouds. The mirrors are there, bedecking the sky like judgment day. Today...There is a path in the woods. It’s a manmade path because its covered in pavement and intricate limestones. It slithered and bends deeper into the woods...and closer to the black moon. I hear the Christmas bells again, but the air feels like fall, not winter. the sound grows stronger and stronger as a figure appears in the distance and past me. I horseman drove a carriage. His face nonexistant...but I know he smirked. Is that weird? Then him, along with the carriage, disappeared down the path and into the darkness. Should I have gotten on? What this my token back to home? The place I belong? Then again, where do I belong...I’m done telling this story….