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The dark

I always tend to delve into the corners of my mind once the light of the world has gone. My world turns into a scary place where thoughts become personified, chasing me down alleys of memories haunting me. Memories that once had made me euphoric but now make me ponder on what if's and maybe's. I almost feel trapped, not being able to go back and live those times, And it scares me. K // 3.1.17 // 00.03AM

Not much of a ramble tonight, but a mesmerising poem by keaton henson that always plays through my head, and becomes more and more relatable as I grow old. Growing up for me has always been hard and scary. The nervousness of losing something or someone and the change has always plagued my mind. Through the streaks of my bed side lamp the thoughts take over, and once again I'm a delicate soul. K // 31.12.16 // 3:43AM

1. i rush when it comes to conversations. it started when i was 12 when i thought i had no importance whatsoever. my thoughts justified this actions as no one would want to know how a boring person’s day went or talk to mute kid aka. a blank wall. thankfully, since then i have found confidence locked in a dusty box in my body. but i fear that my vulnerability has found shelter in habits and i just cant help it anymore if my body resets back to that setting.

2. in fact, i rush with too many things. i rush my creativity, expecting the spark to magically expand into this song/poem as soon as i start working on it. but it just does not work that way. there is no time for that idea to marinate in the stage of wonder and potential.

3. this leads to my mind blocking out every success ive had to focus on my failures instead. forget the times ive been proud of myself. no, that was a thing of the past and is not me currently so can’t ever be me again. this is not healthy. this spirals into a feeling of emptyness which deepens my issue of creativity.

4. i know nights are not good for me. yet i continue to stay up when im not supposed to. i feel this shadow slowly inch towards me throughout the day, waiting for the lights to go off so its shadow can finally be invisible. and i just sit and watch. watch this dreaded feeling start to rip my mind apart. and there is nothing i can do except to wait for the sun to come back up and keep me safe for another flicker of time.

5. i often forget the year we’re in and i like to take that as my unconscious protest against the constraints of time. i dont believe that time just comes and goes. if it were like that then why did i see remorse in your eyes when i first met you?

6. im a paradox. my words are oxymorons, my actions are juxtapositions, my body is a beautiful mess. im never quite sure what my natural state is as it wholly depends on the time of day (refer back to point 4). for i could be this angel singing her worries away when her world crumbles or i could be this mass of dreaded death unconsciously inflicting pain with no reason at all. i know im a paradox but i havent allowed myself to quite know it yet.

r // 30.12.16 // 9:23pm

#rasha

Elevator song

I tend to write better with a piano in the back ground. Each key being slightly pressed down but emitting a storm of emotions that ramble through my head. When I see you it is as if you are the pianist, pressing each key ever so slightly but causing such a strong sense of feeling, I just wish I could be your audience.

K // 30.12.16 // 03:55AM

#khalfan

purgatory, this is where you hide

this state of mind. it’s poison. it holds my heart above shattered glass. broken window panes, replaced by mirrors instead. i can’t look out anymore. instead it’s my own reflection left to criticise, to harm, to waste.

this hell of a mind. rotten flames trembling under carcasses of dreams. what awful deed have i done to forsake my soul to this? i once thought this feeling was passing, merely stopping for a visit.

it has evolved into home.

- i don’t know what has gotten into me. i don’t know what state is my natural state of being. i don’t quite know what i should be doing. i have lost my way trying to find myself. and now i’m stranded among familiar faces that just do not spark the same emotions in me anymore.

r // 30.12.16 // 12:10am

#rasha

Nostalgia on the leaves

I remember running upon the water coated grass, watching my grandfather and mother watering the crisp English garden. Each piece of grass slipping through my toes, the smell of watered dirt running through the air, and the endless imagination of an adolescent sparking each step and feel.

As I’ve grown up I have come to the realization that certain movements, smells, doings, trigger waves of emotions that settle myself down to the ground. I have also learnt that the care of plants is much more of an art, a passion than a chore.

K // 30.12.16 // 2:00 AM

#khalfan

Sometimes as human beings we’re scared of what lies behind the unknown.

I remember one night, about 3AM, the mist of the skies fell upon the ground, the air was crisp felt every bit of it brushing against my face, as if something, someone was slowly caressing my skin. I put a head lamp on got onto my bike and rode right into the thickness of the night.

The feeling of the world being empty and you’re soul slowly being dragged through the air was breath taking, I felt free for once. I stopped at a set of traffic lights, sat in the middle of one and watched the flickering through the white. Each colour changing and no movement to be followed. For once everything seemed to be slowing down in the world, I finally felt time.

Hello, my name is Khalfan, and my mind will start flickering again, I hope yours and Rasha’ can join.

K // 29.12.16 // 4:01AM

#khalfan

too critical of my own creativity

i’m currently experiencing the rapid depreciation of my creativity in rapid speed. what a load of jargon i just said. basically, this is my dilemma:

i was once a poet, once a musician, once a painter. i say once as it feels like centuries since i had last chosen one of those methods to express myself. what once felt like an overflowing well of ideas has run dry in drought. it is no heat nor climate causing this absence of life; in fact, it is my own vulnerability attacking itself.

yes, it is true that when they say “people are their worst critics.” i haven’t been able to truly find comfort in the void of creative expression. instead, i have run away to other mediums that inhibit my creativity (we won’t go into that). i’ve been stuck in this depressing cycle leading to my own emotional degradation. it hasn’t been fun. i don’t recommend it.

i think it’s about time i step out of this haze and try to go back to what once was there. this is where you (invisible audience) come in. this blog has been created in an attempt to reclaim what was once a prized possession: creativity. whether i delve into my own thoughts or khalfan ponders at metaphysical questions, it will all be here, available for your own pleasure.

so, hi. nice to meet you. i’m rasha and i’m going to start being creative again.

r // 29.12.16 // 1:13am

#rasha

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